He’s smiling proudly at me as he adds, “And always pay a fair wage for extra work, right.”
“Yes, sir. That was the mantra he lived by and one I tend to follow. He built this company from a single van and a bakery contract. I’m sure not going to try to reinvent the wheel myself.”
“Good girl. He’d be so proud to see you coming into your own.” Before I can respond, he adds, “I’d best get moving. That meat ain’t gonna deliver itself, boss.”
We both laugh because he’s not wrong about that.
I drop down into the office chair at Vulture’s old desk. It’s mine now, I know this. I just can’t help but wonder when the ache is gonna stop, when I’ll be able to sit at his desk without grieving the loss of him. No time soon, I imagine.
I do all my work for the trucking company and then sign into the site for the other business he owned, Vulture’s Custom Choppers, which is located across town. It’s payroll week for them, so I pull the information from their timecards and begin processing their pay. If I get it done today, it’ll be waiting for them bright and early on Friday morning.
Just as I’m finishing that up, my phone rings. It’s Uncle Cray, my grandfather’s brother.
I answer quickly. “Hey, Cray. What’s up?”
“Nova, we gotta talk.” His voice is always flat and direct. I don’t think he even knows what small talk is. “You need to come to my house as soon as possible. We need to talk about the estate.”
Something in my chest loosens slightly. I’ve been waiting for this conversation for three months. “Has the probate cleared?”
“Yeah, but there were unexpected details in an addendum to his will. His lawyer said he made that when the clubhouse burned down. We can’t talk about it over the phone. This needs to happen in person.”
“I’m working, Cray.”
“This is more important. They can do without for a few hours, Nova. You know I don’t fuckin’ like repeating myself, so don’t make me ask twice.”
“Alright, I’m coming now.”
The line goes dead without my uncle saying goodbye, which is par for the course for him. I grab my purse and head out, because he’s right about us needing to talk in person. Estate matters are important.
***
Cray’s home is in the next county. He knows that I don’t like going to his club, so we never meet there. His house sits at the end of a long gravel drive off the county road, far enough back from the highway that passersby can’t see it.
It’s almost one in the afternoon by the time I get there. Cray is sitting on the porch when I roll in. He’s tall, built, and his face is lined with wrinkles. He’s wearing his cut, faded jeans, and scuffed black boots. He’s got a beer in his hand.
When I come up the porch steps, he nods at the chair across from him.
I sit down and hug my purse against my chest. “What’s this about?”
He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The look on his face tells me he has bad news.
“Vulture’s estate’s cleared probate today,” he says.
“Okay.” I keep my voice level. “So, it transfers to me, right?” It should be because that was always the plan.
“Yeah, but there’s a condition.” He says it without hesitation. “Like I said, he added an addendum. I didn’t know about it, or I would have mentioned it sooner.”
“What does it say? I can take it. Just tell it to me straight. If he wanted you to have everything, I can handle that. I know you were close…”
“Fuck no. It’s nothing like that. Everything my brother owned was left to you. The problem is you don’t get it until you turn thirty or after you get married.” Taking a sip of his beer, he adds, “Whichever comes first.”
I just stare at him, trying to work out why my grandfather would do something like this. I decide that it doesn’t matter.
“So, who controls the estate?” When he doesn’t answer, I guess, “You control it as executor, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the general gist of it.”
“Including the trucking service.”
