Page 20 of The Americana Playbook

I often think of my bedroom in Captain’s Cottage. After all these years, I’m still able to see it so clearly—the pale blue duvet, the striped sham pillows, the collection of trophies I earned from horseback riding. But what I really wonder about ishowI left those things.

The duvet was tangled at the foot of the bed.

The pillowcase had been torn by my teeth as I fought against it pressed to my mouth.

The trophy I grabbed to use as a weapon fell to the hardwood floor.

There’s no doubt that when morning came, the duvet was straightened, the pillowcase changed, and the trophy put back in its place as if it had never moved. As if nothing had ever happened. As if I had never been there.

“Madeline, would you give Parker her present? Did you think I forgot your birthday? Never. Forty-six hours of labor, and you were born feet first. Twisted yourself the wrong way trying to find your way out.” Mom smiles tersely.

Madeline lifts a leather folder from the coffee table.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” I warn them.

Mom sighs. “It’s alreadyyours. It’s just been under our care,” she clarifies before opening the folder. “There’s five million dollars in a trust that’s available to you on your thirtieth birthday.”

I freeze and stare at the folder.

“Subject to,” Mom continues, but I’m quick to interrupt her.

“Don’t tell me. You’re going to say it’s subject to me being of sound mind and body, and then you’re going to tell a court I’m crazy and deny me my lawfully willed inheritance.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “You’ve been watching too much TV. No, Parker. The trust is yours as of today followinga significant life event.”

“A significant life event?”

Madeline lifts the white ceramic teapot and pouring a cup. “Marriage. Or a baby.”

I can smell the chamomile. A better herb of choice would’ve been a hunk of sage I can burn in their faces.

“Since it’s an election year,” Mom continues, “we thought we might politely suggest you entertain the idea of courting one of Washington’s most promising. Camden Holdings.”

My eyes widen. “Cam Holdings? That douchebag from high school?”

“Camden Holdings is a congressman and will run for senate in a few years. Just like your father.”

“Also a douchebag,” I snap. “What makes you think I want anything to do with a guy like Dad? And what makes you think Cam would want anything to do with me?”

Mom presses her lips together. “Because you’re a Montgomery.”

That’s clearly the answer to both of my questions.

I point at the folder. “Is there anything in here that mentions you having to choose the person involved in saidsignificant life event?”

“No. There aren’t any tricks here, Parker. You can show that to any attorney, and they’ll tell you the exact same thing I am. Within thirty days of filing your marriage license with the court, the trust will be transferred to you.”

“Then why do I have to listen to you about Camden?” I reach forward and take the folder. “I can’t imagine you’re worried about the family’s political legacy ending.” I point at Madeline. “She’ll probably be attorney general one day after she’s done working for Dad. You didn’t exactly send her to Yale Law to be his secretary?—”

“I’m the White House Chief of Staff,” Madeline barks.

I plant a smug smile on my face. “Like I said. Asecretary.”

“You know what, Parker?—”

“Oh, enough!”

“For once, Mom, you and I agree. Thanks for this.” I hold the folder up. “I’m sure I can find an attorney who can take care of everything for me.”

---