Page 28 of These Summer Storms

The entire room went still; no one quite able to believe that he’d refused to answer Elisabeth Storm’s question. She turned to steel. “I stood by his side while he made every one of those goddamn billions, and you’re not at liberty to say where it goes if I can’t summon one nice thing about him every day?”

The words were sharp. Accusatory. As though Jack had something to do with the rules. And maybe he did. But he didn’t rise to Elisabeth’s challenge.

Apparently, to Jack, doing Franklin’s bidding, no matter how bizarre,wasperfectly ordinary. Not that he seemed that interested in Storm family chaos, which was really delivering—frustration and anger and no small amount of entitlement setting them all off. “And if you fail to tell the truth, yes.”

“And I’m to assume you know the truth, Jack?” The Storm children watched, eyes wide, familiar with the dangerous edge in their mother’s tone.

“I would assume it, if I were you,” he replied.

Holy shit.He was so composed, it was almost magnificent to watch. Except Alice refused to find anything about this man magnificent ever again.

“This is bananas.” Emily broke the silence.

“Exactly!” Sam said, a son on the verge. “We don’tdivestwealth. Dad was a goddamn billionaire and we’re just supposed to give up everything because he fucking wills it? That’s not how billionaires work!”

“Rules of generational wealth aside, Sam,” Alice replied, “I don’t think that’s what Emily meant.”

She didn’t like the surprise in Emily’s eyes at the words, as thoughthe youngest Storm hadn’t expected Alice to understand her, even though Alice had always been the one closest to understanding her. “Um…right,” Emily said. “I meant, how are we supposed to play one of Dad’s stupid games this week? While wegrieve?”

Sweet Emily. Ever optimistic. The idea that Greta, Sam, or Elisabeth had entertained a single emotional thought about the family or their father’s death since Jack had set foot in the house would be laughable if it weren’t so clearly impossible.

And then they proved it.

“We’re going to call the lawyers,” Sila vowed again, in an attempt to comfort a blustering Sam—and herself, no doubt. “This absolutely is not legal. Jack’s not evenfamily.”

It was legal. Franklin Storm would have bribed Congress to make sure it was legal. And Alice wasn’t the only one in the room who knew it. They’d seen him bribe Congress before.

Elisabeth was headed for the drink cart in the corner.

“Mom, it’s nine in the morning,” Alice said.

“Your father would approve,” Elisabeth tossed over her shoulder, following with, “That’s the truth. Isn’t it, Jack?”

Jack let the rhetorical question lie. Apparently he didn’t have a death wish.

Too bad.

“I don’t understand,” Emily said. “Why would Dad do this?”

“Why did Dad do anything?” Alice asked. “Manipulation. Control. His favorite weapons.”

Emily shook her head. “What’s the point, though?”

Elisabeth lifted a bottle of gin. “You’ve always had your head in the clouds, Emily. He’s dead now. It’s time to see him for what he was.”

Jesus.

The whole family was ready to take swings wherever they could land them. Whatever it took to win.

Except Alice. Because Alice hadn’t received a letter.

She tried to feel relief as her mother peeled a twist off a lemon and dropped it in her cocktail, and Emily wrung her hands, and Gretapeppered Jack with questions, and Sila whined, and Sam went on about his attorney, who was alsoFranklin’sattorney, so good luck to him.

It was relief she should feel, after all the years of battling her father for her own future. For her own identity. Relief, because he hadn’t pulled her into this last, sordid game.

She didn’t feel relief, though. She felt—left out.

Which was the point.

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