Page 8 of Twin Babies For The Grump

“Bale speaking.” I step out of the shower and grab my towel, lamenting the mess of shampoo suds still in my hair. Damn, I need a haircut.

“Owen?” A familiar voice comes through the line. “Owen, this is Robert Jenk. Do you remember me?”

“Robert? Sure I do,” I tell him. “You’re Dad’s poker buddy.”

He’s also the family lawyer, but that comes second to his weekly poker matches with my father.

Robert makes a strange sound followed by a heavy exhale. “That’s right. Owen, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. Your father has passed.”

“What?” I freeze, my stomach dropping. “I— I just spoke with him last week, he was fine!”

Dad sounded tired, sure, but that was it. He’s a strong guy. He’s a talented guy. Dad always gets back up when he’s knocked down. The idea of having lost him, no, it’s incomprehensible to me.

“They think it was a heart attack,” says Robert. “I found him this morning when I came over for coffee and cards. I just…” His voice trails off as he takes in a long breath then slowly lets it out. “We’re still figuring it out, and I tried to call your sister, but—I’m sorry, Owen.”

Robert keeps talking, offering his condolences and words of comfort but I can hardly make out what he’s saying.

I lean against the wall, my world coming to a stop.

My mother, Delia, passed away when I was very young, and Dad raised us on his own.

Her absence was a subtle but constant pain in my life despite how hard Dad tried to keep her memory, and in a way her presence, part of our day-to-day, telling us stories about her and running the family vineyard and the winery estate, named after her, since then.

And now I lost him.

That familiar emptiness is starting to crawl inside me once again when Robert almost yells my name to get my attention. “I know that I’m hitting you with a lot, but I think that it’s worth stating while I have you—” Robert takes a breath.

“Sorry, I’m trying to keep it separate. Thomas was a good man; he was a good friend. But it’s my job as your family’s lawyer to make sure that you know it’s your name on all the papers.”

I take a few steps and sit down heavy on the closed lid of the toilet, reaching up and raking a hand through still sudsy hair. There are tears burning in my eyes. “My name?”

“On the papers for the vineyard and the estate. They’re yours now,” says Robert and explains that he will discuss my sister’s inheritance once he gets hold of her too. “But I’m going to need you to head into the office today, and take care of some papers that I’m faxing to you. Some for the business. Your Dad wouldn’t want this to wait, the winery needs somebody to run it. And some…” A pause. “The morgue. That sort of thing. I’m sorry, Owen.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, my voice rough with unshed tears. I’m working really damn hard at not crying on the phone, but it’s a hard sell. Dad and I had always been close. To know that he’s just…

“I know,” says Robert. “And I’m not going to keep you. I need to get off anyway and deal with a few things. But I wanted you to know first thing.”

He sounds just as upset as I feel. We get off the phone, no pleasantries exchanged, and then for a long moment, I just sit there in the bathroom, staring down at my own hands. I don’t know how long it takes before I’m able to convince myself to get up and move through the motions of rinsing out my hair.

I dry off. I get dressed. I try to call my sister. But just like Robert said, I can’t get through.

It’s over an hour later when she calls back.

“Owen?” She asks. “I just saw your calls. What’s up?”

“Tiff.” My voice hitches. “Tiff, it’s Dad.”

“Dad? What about Dad? I just spoke to him on the phone yesterday.”

“He’s had a heart attack,” I say.

Tiffany protests, “What? No way! Dad is healthy as a horse! Is— Is he at the hospital?” she asks as she slowly realizes what I told her. “Is he alright?”

“Robert found him this morning, when he went over for cards,” I croak out. “There was no hospital. I’m— I’m getting the papers today. And I’ll call Robert again tonight. Tiff— I— I’m sorry.”

“Oh, my God.”

I can practically hear her sinking to the floor at the end of the line.

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