Page 42 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

He keeps reading. “My family’s fortune took many decades to acquire; our reputation and prestige were built over time, yet most of those bearing the Monroe name have not risen to its glory, nor have they made themselves worthy of gaining anything pertaining to this estate.”

“Bitter to the very end,” I mumble.

I notice a muscle twitching in Callie’s sharp jaw. She’s sitting inches away from us; her sweet floral perfume fills my nostrils as she listens to each word left behind by her grandmother.Hergrandmother, not mine, not really.

“My Catholic upbringing and values would never allow me to do things in any other manner other than the one in which I am about to,” Mr. Rawlings continues. “Therefore, Catharina ‘Callie’ Monroe, my darling firstborn granddaughter, is entitled to the Astoria Mansion and its surrounding grounds. The deeds have been prepared, and the legal paperwork is already drawn up. The Astoria Mansion has been the Monroe family home since our ancestors first came to this great country, and it will stay in our family forevermore.

“By special injunction, it cannot be sold or given away, and should Callie refuse it, it will be passed down to her firstborn when the time comes. Should there not be a descendant of hers left, the Astoria Mansion and its present contents will be transferred to the next of kin under the same stipulation. But I do hope Callie understands the immeasurable value of this gesture.”

I look over to see Callie fighting back tears; her lower lip is trembling, and her brow is slightly furrowed. “Of course, she left it to me; it was my childhood home. I’m the only one who deserves it,” she sniffs.

“On the matter of my financial estate, I hereby bequeath the amount of 80.2 million US dollars to Dakota Angelica Monroe, my second-born granddaughter,” Mr. Rawlings reads, and I damn near choke on my own saliva.

“What?” Callie snaps, suddenly white as a sheet of paper.

Chelsea exhales so loudly that I’m pretty sure there’s not a breath left in her body.

“What?” I say, not sure I heard the man right.

“The amount includes every bearer bond and bank account currently held under my name,” Mr. Rawlings continues. “The details and the currencies in which this money is registered are listed in a separate addendum document for legal purposes and future reference. The Internal Revenue Service has been fully apprised, and the taxes have already been deducted for this particular purpose.”

“Okay, this is crazy,” I blurt out and sit up straight. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Mr. Rawlings pauses and smiles. “I understand it’s a shock, but if you could just bear with me and allow me to read through everything, it might make more sense.”

Glancing to my right, Chelsea is shocked into speechlessness; her blue eyes are as round as saucers.

However, to my left, Callie is seething.

Mr. Rawlings continues to read. “The financial estate is the result of years of investments that my husband and I made. Some of the deeds and bonds were inherited, but the rest can be traced back to our first decade in the stock market. That being said, there are conditions that must be met in order for Dakota to come into possession of the aforementioned funds.”

Callie is close to exploding; her glossy red lips are twisted with rage and disgust. Her silence is creeping me out, and quite frankly, I wish she would explode or at least saysomething.

Calmly, Mr. Rawlings produces a separate document and proceeds to read aloud from it. “My darlings Callie and Dakota, I may have lived a long and fruitful life, but I have made my share of mistakes. I may have been too faithful to my religion, too devoted to my church and priest, perhaps so much so thatI ended up turning away my only son after he divorced his first wife, Helena. At the time, I was enraged by Michael’s decision.

“I gave him an option, never yielding before him. He had to choose his family or the open road. To my dismay, he chose the open road. Michael chose to leave us all behind. His wife. His daughter. His mother. His inheritance and his future as a Monroe. I didn’t understand it, but my son insisted on doing things his way.

“I resented him for a long time. I couldn’t fathom how a man could end his marriage and simply walk away. I didn’t think it was possible and it was most certainly unacceptable, in the Lord’s eyes, anyway. But I stood my ground and wiped him from the family altogether. Callie became my only focus. Together with Helena and our staff, we were able to raise her to become the wonderful young woman that she is today.”

He pauses and takes a sip from a bottle of water.

“But as the years went by,” Mr. Rawlings continues, “my resentment grew stronger. Your father was as stubborn as me. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It’s a Monroe trait, after all. When news of his wedding reached my ears, I was furious. Michael had found a life outside the Monroe circle. To me, it was unfathomable.

“I poured all of my attention and energy into Callie. One might say I spoiled her rotten while I also worked hard to imbue her with our family values, hoping that she may one day be a better Monroe than her own father was. Chaste, loyal, strong and educated. A wife fit for a king or a future president of the United States. There are four senators on my side of the family alone. I expected better from my offspring.”

“My God,” Chelsea whispers.

“I fear I may have transferred some of my bitterness onto Callie,” Mr. Rawlings reads.

I can almost hear Katherine speaking through him, her voice softening with doubt ever so slightly. She no longer sounded like the stern and resentful woman I met at Sally’s funeral.

“But time passed, and Callie grew into a true Monroe. The news of your father’s passing hit me hard, and I didn’t see it coming. I wasn’t prepared for it. I was ready to go into my grave, knowing I’d be leaving my son behind, still living his life. It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. It changed the way I saw everything, but I had yet to realize it. Furious and aggrieved, I kept my distance. I reached out to Sally to tell her that Michael had a place in our family cemetery, but she rejected my request. She said Michael needed to be with his real family. I took it to heart.”

He pauses, giving me a second to process this new information.

I can see Callie’s anger subsiding if only just a little. She lost a father that day, too, even though she didn’t really remember him.

“Please, continue,” I tell Mr. Rawlings. My voice cracks. It’s getting harder to sit here.

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