Dad scoffs. “I do not pretend to know why my father made the decisions that he did.”
More like he wanted me to find a nice man, settle down, and become a copy-and-paste version of my mother.
That will never be me.
“And if I’m not married by then?”
My mother rolls her eyes. “It’s really not that hard to understand, Alice. If you’re not married, you won’t receive the payout.”
A lead weight settles in my gut. Ever since I learned about the trust when I turned twenty-one, it’s all I’ve been wishing for. I can’t stomach the idea that I won’t get it because of a marriage clause.
My dream has always been to own my own flower shop. Ever since I went with my mom to one when I was little while she was planning a gala for my father’s office.
The colorful blooms. The paper-wrapped bouquets. The smells. I loved everything about it.
But owning a flower shop was not in the plans for my father. Jeffrey Burke’s daughter would never do something so menial. His words, not mine.
The only acceptable job for me was to follow in his footsteps and take over the investment firm.
It’s why my relationship with my parents has always been strained. I never lived up to their version of the perfect daughter.
Asking these two for money to open my own store? I’d be sent away with a stern look and told to never come back.
I’ve scrimped and saved over the years, but it was always to supplement what I would get with my trust.
It’s so close, I can taste it.
My thirtieth birthday.
“Okay then.” I gulp down the rest of my wine. It earns me a sidelong look from my mother.
But I don’t care.
Because now that there’s this added complication of having to be married, my head is spinning.
Married? If they had told me this a week ago, I would have curled up in the fetal position on the floor.
Now? Well, now, I might be able to overcome this little problem.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Mom asks.
“What else is there to say? Grandfather has some archaic idea that in order for me to inherit the money I’m promised, I have to be married.”
“Alice, we’ve entertained your chosen…professionlong enough,” Dad snaps. “If you come work for me, you won’t have to worry about getting married to inherit your trust. Money won’t be an issue. What you make now is a drop in the bucket compared to what you would make working for me. Or even your trust.”
“That’s not what I want,” I tell them, issuing a startling calm into my voice. Setting my empty wine glass on the end table, I stand. Just being in this house turns me into a moody teenager. I want to shout and rage and yell at them.
Why can’t they accept me for me?
“You’re not dating anyone, Alice. You can’t conjure up ahusband out of thin air. Why not work for your father and not have to worry about the trust at all?”
Of course my mother is on his side. She would never go against him. And what my father really wants? To control me by making sure I work for him because I don’t have a husband to fulfill this silly clause.
Joke’s on them since I have a husband.
“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m married and this whole ‘marriage stipulation’ won’t be a problem.”
I ignore their shouts as I storm out of the house. I hate how they make me feel so small. Like my dreams aren’t good enough for them. ThatI’mnot good enough to be a Burke. So sue me, but I don’t want to go into finance and make millions of dollars.
