Page 26 of These Summer Storms

“Fuck you, Jack,” Sam repeated. “You’ve had a hand in my future for way too long. I know you’ve been whispering in his ear for months about me.Years.I’m calling a goddamn lawyer.” Whatever was in Sam’s letter—hereallydidn’t like it.

“What do you have to do, Sam?”

“Descale boats. Clean the fog bell. Stain the dock.” He crushed the letter in his hand. “Manual labor.” He cleared his throat. “Reshingling?”

Greta’s lips curved in dry amusement. “That’s really going to mess up your manicure, Samuel.”

“What Sam is trying to say,” Sila said, as though Sam hadn’t been extremely clear about what he was trying to say, “is that these really aren’t the kind of things thefuture CEO of Stormshould be doing.”

His sisters’ brows rose in unison, as Alice said, “Pardon?”

Sila continued, speaking for Sam. “Well, who else? He’s the Storm.”

“We’re all Storms,” Greta scoffed.

“Of course. But not likeSamis a Storm.” Sila set a hand to her husband’s thigh. “Samis the future of Storm Inc. And with the kids”—she paused for effect, a smug smile settling on her face as she looked pointedly at Elisabeth—“we’re the future of the Stormfamily,as well.”

“Oh,please,” Greta snapped. A bear, poked.

“The point is,” Sam said, “he can’t make us play a game to inherit.”

It was almost impossible to believe that her father would turn the whole thing over to the empirically least serious of the children, but Alice was absolutely the wrong one to point that out, considering her past with her father, and the company.

Jack had clearly had enough of the children’s sniping. “You’re welcome to consult a lawyer, but I assure you it is a legal silent trust. And it was your father’s wish that you not know his plan for the estate.”

“Even now,” Alice said, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I don’t…” For the first time, Jack seemed confused.

“Oh, come on. There’s more to this game than a few final words.” She waved at her siblings, all clinging to their white envelopes. “This isDad. There’s always a second shoe to drop.” She returned her attention to Jack. “Hestilldoesn’t want us to know his plan.”

He didn’t reply; he didn’t have to.

Her father must have loved him.

“We shouldn’t be surprised,” Elisabeth said, something unpleasant in her voice. “There was nothing Franklin liked more than control. And here we are.” She lifted her letter and looked to Jack. “There, I’ve said something nice. Now what?”

“I’m not sure that was what he meant, Elisabeth.”

“I’m not sure I care,Jack.”

Alice looked to her mother. “What’s that mean? ‘Said something nice’?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Elisabeth might not answer. Finally, she said, “All right. I’ll go first. Your father requests that Itell the truth. Though I can’t for the life of me think of what that might mean. I’m perfectly truthful.”

Alice bit her tongue. No one in the world elided truth like Elisabeth Storm.

“And on top of that, I’m to—” Elisabeth lifted the letter and read aloud. “ ‘Say one nice thing about Franklin every day. Aloud. To another person.’ ” She looked to Jack. “For the rest of mylife?”

Alice might have laughed at the horror in her mother’s voice if she weren’t so impressed by her father’s incisive request. Saying something nice about Franklin would be nearly impossible for Elisabeth, and she’d once had to make conversation with Silvio Berlusconi for the duration of a state dinner.

“No,” Jack said. “For one week.”

Of course. A ticking clock. Even from the grave, her father loved a mess.

“What does that mean?” Greta snapped, revealing an edge that she almost always kept dulled. Whatever her task, it wasn’t an easy one.

Jack explained. “If the requests are not honored within one week of Franklin’s death, you are no longer eligible for the inheritance.”

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