Page 63 of Your Every Wish
Frankly, another twenty-four hours of hearing about the key and the missing golf bag and I’m liable to toss my cookies. “Can we make a pact not to dwell on what Misty said about the golf bag for the rest of the ride? Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like anything? Willy’s house, La Jolla, the weather. I don’t care.”
“It wasn’t what I expected. The house, that is. I thought it would be louder, over the top. Gold toilets, crystal chandeliers, flocked wallpaper. But for the most part it was bland and soulless. And I didn’t learn anything about our dear old dad that I didn’t already know, except for the fact that his taste is like that of Middle America.”
“So let me make sure I understand. You’re disappointed that he didn’t have gold toilets or flocked wallpaper?”
“Not disappointed, just surprised. You think you know someone and then he throws you a curveball.”
I laugh. Kennedy can be funny when she wants to be. “I actually learned a lot about him.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“To start, he’s a sentimentalist. Did you see all the stuff he saved? Never mind the newspaper clippings. But the photographs, which I assume are of his family.”
“Did you ever think that we’re also his family and there isn’t one photo of either one of us? Not one. It’s like we never existed to him. Okay, I was a mistake he probably didn’t want to think about. But he lived with you the first three years of your life. Shouldn’t he at least have kept some of your baby pictures?”
She has a point. But I don’t want to see it that way. In the end, he had to have loved us. He did love us.
“He put us in his will,” I say. “He could’ve left everything to his brother, Frank. But we’re the ones he wanted to have everything.”
“Everything? Don’t you see, Emma? It was a joke, his final fuck-you to his children. A trailer park. A fucking trailer park.”
“I wish you could see it for the gift it really is.”
“I wish I could, too. But I can’t. Willy had millions. Millions, Emma.”
“And look how he died,” I say with a sadness in my voice.
“Yeah, well, I don’t believe it. Where are all the cars, the jewelry, the stocks, and the bonds? No way did the feds take it all.”
* * *
Kennedy may have an exaggerated view of Willy’s financial worth, but even I was surprised by his lack of possessions. So much so that the day after we got home, I called
Mr. Townsend and asked for a full accounting of what the feds had seized.
Dex said it was a waste of time, that Willy had probably owed an arm and a leg to the IRS. But what does it hurt to have an inventory list?
Liam finds me in the kitchen. “Your heater looks fine. Not the most modern but you should get another five years out of her.”
“That’s a relief. The smell?”
“It’ll go away after you run it for a few days. It’s just dust.”
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”
“A lifesaver? It took me all of twenty minutes to clean the filter and take a look around in there. But if you want to reward me with coffee and whatever you’re making, I’ll bite.” He winks and my chest flutters something funny.
I pull down a mug from the cupboard and fill him a cup. “Bacon and eggs will be up in a few minutes.”
I set him a place at the table. Kennedy’s on a run and will probably stick to her standard breakfast, Pop-Tarts, when she gets back.
“How do you know so much stuff about home repairs? Are you a handyman or construction worker?” I’ve never gotten the skinny on what Liam does for a living. If he is in the building industry he must not be doing too well because he always seems to be around. Then I remember that he said he works from home, so scratch construction.
“Nope.” He takes a swig of his coffee and doesn’t elaborate.
