Page 44 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“Everything. If you inherit Katherine’s fortune, you will be responsible for carrying the Monroe name forward. Callie will keep the mansion, and she will continue her work on the Monroe Foundation’s board, but you will be holding several stocks across the market along with those millions, Mr. Rawlings says.

“It’s all listed in the addendum to the will. I read the main part, but I am leaving each of you a copy of the entire document, complete with every term and condition. Katherine worked hard to cover every angle. But at the end of the day, this is her wish: for you to find a husband, Dakota, and build a family for yourself and your daughter. Only then will you be worthy of her inheritance.”

All I can say is, “This is insane.”

Callie narrows her eyes as she looks at the attorney. “Can I contest the will?”

“The will cannot be contested. It is ironclad and beyond scrutiny. Either you accept your grandmother’s last wishes, or you don’t. Either way, you’re receiving quite the gift from Katherine, if you ask me. She trusted you to take care of the ancestral home.”

“And yet she’s giving eighty million dollars to this pretender,” Callie scoffs.

“I don’t care who you think you are,” I say, “but you will address me with respect. I didn’t ask for any of this! Besides, you might end up still getting your precious millions because Christmas isonly a month away.”

Mr. Rawlings gives me a wry smile. “Dakota, it’s a challenge, I know. But if it’s meant to be, it will be. Don’t you think?” He gives me a copy of the will in a separate envelope along with a small wooden box. “One last thing for you, left by Katherine. Open it when you get back home to San Francisco.”

“Oh, great, more surprises.”

“This isn’t over,” Callie hisses at me.

But I am way too tired and far too confused to let her get to me this time around. She will never break me. I only wish she didn’t feel so compelled to try. Why can’t we just be sisters? I’m sure we have things in common. There’s so much to learn about each other, so much catching up, dammit.

Instead, we’re bickering over who gets what from a woman who helped drive one hell of a wedge between us.

“This is insane,”I say as Chelsea and I head back to the airport.

A bitter taste lingers in my mouth as I sink into the passenger seat; the wooden box and envelope are sitting in my lap while Chelsea keeps her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the long road ahead. This part of New York seems so quiet and still, so different from the madness of Manhattan that you see on TV. Deep woods covered in a thick blanket of snow line either side of the highway with the city skyline rising in the distance.

I can’t wait to be home again, to take Maisie in my arms and snuggle her close. I’m mentally exhausted; the will reading tooka lot out of me, mostly because of Callie. All that frustration and resentment was directed at me, and I didn’t deserve any of it.

“It is pretty insane, but what are you going to do?” Chelsea asks. Her calmness is getting on my nerves.

“What do you mean what am I going to do?”

“Do you want the money?”

“Are you serious? Of course, I want the money. I need the money. The bank’s about to take my house. My daughter has to get into Prescott Academy simply because she’s brilliant and deserves it. And I deserve to own and run a cocktail lounge of my own,” I reply. “I’ve been in the poorhouse for too long, Chelsea. I could use a break.”

“Then all you have to do is get married by Christmas.”

I can’t help but laugh. It’s not a hearty laugh, either. It’s a bitter one. It’s dripping with revulsion at how twisted my grandmother could be. No wonder Callie is so… Callie.

“Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy, right?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose in order to relieve some of the pressure that has built up there. I can feel a migraine approaching. “What do you think I should do, Chelsea? Put an ad in the paper that says, ‘Hi, guys, single mom here desperately looking for a husband in order to get my hands on an eighty-million-dollar inheritance.’”

Chelsea chuckles dryly. “Dakota, you’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“You’re not really single, are you?” She briefly glances my way. “You’re the triple opposite of single if I remember correctly.”

I gasp. Not with outrage but with a lightning-fast realization. “Well, damn. You just went there, eh?”

“Just trying to be practical here.”

“I don’t think… Chelsea, the triplets and me… our thing is just physical, it’s fun, it’s strange and beautiful. I can’t call it a relationship. It’s three of them and one of me.”

“You only need one of them for marriage, legally speaking.”

I stare at my best friend for a long time while she keeps her eyes on the road. Overhead, the planes landing and taking off seem to be getting bigger and louder. We’re getting closer to the airport. It’ll be several hours before we land in San Francisco, but I can almost feel myself sinking into my sofa at home.Home. That has become a bit of an abstract term since the foreclosure notice arrived. For how long will it be home?

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