Page 8 of Your Every Wish
“Wait, what?” I’m sure I misheard, or Townsend meant to say million. Four million. Everyone knows that the legendry Willy Keil was worth a mint.
“That’s two thousand each.” Townsend clears his throat again, which I’m learning is his tell. He clears his throat when he’s uncomfortable.
“Two thousand? As in two thousand dollars? That can’t be right. He was a multimillionaire.”
“Your father had some setbacks later in life,” Townsend says. “This is all there is. My secretary will give you the address for Cedar Pines Estates. I’m sure you’d like to see it. In the meantime, I’ll get to work in transferring everything out of the trust into both your names. Are there any questions?”
“I don’t think so,” Emma says.
Before I know it, we’re being whisked out of his office back into the lobby. I’m still reeling, still trying to grasp my situation when the receptionist hands both Emma and me heavy manila envelopes.
“The address for Cedar Pines is in there, along with a few forms that you both need to fill out and return in order for us to make the property and cash transfers,” she says.
I’m still too stunned to answer but Emma says, “Okay.”
I follow her out to the bank of elevators in the hallway.
Emma presses the down button. “You wanna go tomorrow?”
“Go where?”
“To check out Cedar Pines.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I wasn’t planning to stay the night but suppose I can get my ticket changed to fly out tomorrow. Between my flight, a hotel room, and a car rental I’ll probably just break even with the two thousand dollars I inherited.
The development, though, will be the windfall, I cheer myself. While it’s not liquid cash, how long can it take to sell prime California real estate? Perhaps I can even borrow against it to hold me over in the meantime.
“Do you have a car?” Emma asks.
“No, I’ll have to rent one.”
“I can get a Zipcar and we can go together.”
I have no idea what a Zipcar is and am not sure I want to share it with a woman who all my life has loomed large as my archnemesis, which isn’t really fair because she can’t help who she was born to. And it appears that we’re partners now, so to speak. No sense alienating her.
“Do you have a place to stay?” she asks before I can decide whether to take her up on her ride offer.
“Yes,” I lie, hoping that my affiliation with Caesars will help score me a room in a decent hotel here on short notice. “I have to make sure I can make arrangements at work to take another day. Can I call you later?”
“Of course. Give me your phone and I’ll plug in my number.”
I hand her my cell without thinking. Usually, I’m not so trusting. My phone after all is filled with the numbers of clients who expect me to guard their privacy at all costs. She returns it to me, and we ride the elevator down together in silence.
Besides my mother and some distant cousins I’ve never met, Emma is my only living relative. My half sister. And yet, I don’t know a damned thing about her. Though I’m filled with curiosity, I’ve learned long ago that it doesn’t pay to ask too many questions. Keeping a healthy distance has always been my motto. Otherwise, you just get burned.
We take the turnstile out onto the sidewalk and stand there for a bit. It’s loud from the traffic and smells a little like car exhaust and Mexican food. It’s warmer than Vegas was when I left this morning. The first thing I’m going to do after I find a hotel is buy a T-shirt.
“You want to grab a cup of coffee or something?” she says.
I do. I want to know what she thinks of what just happened in Townsend’s office. I want to know where all the cash went.
But instead, I say, “I should really check into my hotel and call work.”
“Okay. Just let me know about tomorrow.”
“Will do.” I turn and walk away, having no clue where I’m going or what I’m doing.
All I know is that I won’t be making Mr. Sterling’s deadline. Again.
