Page 46 of The Inquirer

“Wait a minute,” I said to Les before turning back to Betsy. I gave her my best stern expression. “I don’t know what your parents do when you’re like this, but I’m in charge right now. If you don’t finish your lunch, you don’t get ice cream, but you won’t be in trouble. But if you throw a fit, you’re gonna spend some time sitting on the couch doing nothing.”

I didn’t say anything as Betsy glared at me. I could see the gears working in her mind, trying to figure out if I would actually do what I said. I could feel Les watching me too, apparently fascinated with the fact that I wasn’t going to let Betsy do whatever she wanted.

After a minute, she picked up an apple slice and ate it. I waited until she ate the second one to get up and go to the fridge. “Les, why don’t you come help me get your bowl ready, and then when Betsy’s done, she can help me get hers.”

A couple minutes later, Betsy and I took our bowls over to the table to join Les. I didn’t know if Betsy would behave for the rest of the afternoon, but I’d take this as a little win. I used the time to chat with them a bit more, asking about school and friends, basically trying to get to know them better.

It didn’t take long for Betsy to get bored once she finished her ice cream, but because she’d been good once I’d given her the ultimatum, I wasn’t going to make her stick around just to talk to me. She went straight back to her playroom, leaving Les and me at the table, finishing our dessert.

“Do you like history stuff?” Les asked suddenly.

“I do.”

“Mom got a whole bunch of boxes from Papaw and Mamaw’s house, and she said they have bunches of letters and papers and stuff in them. I can show you if you want.”

Well, damn. I hadn’t even been thinking about my film right now, but it looked like something might’ve just fallen into my lap. I just hoped whatever was here would be relevant.

“That’d be great.” I ruffled his hair. “Do you like history?”

He nodded. “Dad says I can go to college to become a history professor or a detective, but Mom says I have to become a lawyer like Dad or be in politics like Papaw.”

I was honestly surprised that Ashley had even given Les that much of a choice. Then again, having a law degree often led to a political career. I couldn’t see Les having the temperament for it, though. He’d inherited his father’s quiet personality, but having a career as a white-collar lawyer wouldn’t be enough for my ambitious family, not for the number one grandson. Warren gave Ashley a comfortable lifestyle that she controlled. She’d want to control Les too, but she’d see our father paving the way for whatever they wanted for Les as being as good as her personally controlling him.

Betsy, on the other hand, had the potential to be as cutthroat as her grandfather. If someone didn’t curb those entitled tendencies of hers, she’d end up as President…or a reality TV star.

I didn’t share any of this with Les, though. When the time came that he needed someone to support him for something outside what the rest of the family wanted, I’d be there. I wouldn’t prompt the conversation, though. If he wasn’t ready, it wouldn’t matter if I pushed him to follow his dreams. Besides, not many kids really knew what they wanted to do when they were only twelve.

“The stuff’s in the library,” Les said as he put his things in the .dishwasher.

I followed him out of the kitchen and down a hall. Ashley’s house wasn’t as big as the one we’d grown up in, but it wasn’t small either. I was fairly certain the first floor alone was bigger than my cabin, but I wouldn’t have traded my freedom for any of this.

“Here they are.”

Three boxes that looked like the kind that held files sat on a table in the center of the room. The two high-backed chairs on either side of the table made it look more like it belonged in a public or college library than a private home.

I wondered how much time Warren spent in here, working on cases instead of being at the office. I imagined Ashley kept him on a pretty tight leash, wanting to make sure he wasn’t ‘staying late at the office’ while he was staying late at the office. I could see her telling him that he had a perfectly good library at home, so he could be there for her and the kids while he got work done.

Not that Warren would ever cheat on Ashley. I didn’t know if he actually loved her too much to do it, but he sure as hell was too scared of her to stray. And even if he hadn’t been scared of her, then he’d have been terrified of our father. She was Daddy’s Princess, and heaven help the man who hurt her. Despite the age difference between them, Warren had never even got close to taking advantage of her.

I pushed thoughts of my sister’s marriage aside and took the top off one of the boxes. It was full of file folders, and a quick look at the first couple ones showed them to be various speeches and flyers from political events over the years. I didn’t bother reading any of them too closely, but I did the whole due diligence thing and pulled out the entire stack to go through.

Les opened one of the other boxes and took out a single item to study. Him being meticulous didn’t surprise me. He was the most careful kid I’d ever met.

I left him to it, going with my instinct that he didn’t mind silence, and worked on my box. I’d skimmed the contents of half a dozen folders when Les tapped on my arm.

“Take a look at this, Uncle Bradyn.”

I put aside my folders and turned to see what had caught his attention. It was an old picture, old enough to have that yellow tinge that some black and white photos got. I recognized the estate immediately, even though there had been remodeling done in the century and a half since the picture had been taken. Despite not having seen this picture before, I recognized a couple people in it from family ‘lessons’ I’d had as a child.

“That says 1843.” Les gestured to the year written on the corner of the picture. “That’s before the War.”

“By almost twenty years.” I didn’t have to ask which War he meant. Down South, there was only one War that sounded like it was always capitalized. I pointed at the bride and groom, who were front and center. “That would be Obadiah Calvert and Charlotte Davis. They’re your five-times great-grandparents, I think.”

“That’s a lot of greats.” Les leaned closer, squinting in a way that made me wonder if he needed glasses. “Are you sure that’s them?”

“You mean your mom hasn’t made you memorize all of your ancestors?” I grinned at him.

“Come on.” He rolled his eyes.

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