Page 1 of Inherited Light
Prologue
I crossed my arms over my chest, but didn’t bow my head, already bored without staring at my shoes. I spent the next ten minutes wishing I could be anywhere but here. Outside the doors of this funeral home in Little Ivywood, California, the sun shone brightly and I could be doing anything other than pretending to grieve for a woman who barely knew my name. My grandmother, Mabel Dalton, kicked the bucket a few nights back while doing the horizontal mambo with a guy four years her senior. Since Mabel was eighty-five at the time of her demise, you understand why dwelling on her final moments on this earth for too long might be sickening. I don’t remember a time in my life when Mabel didn’t look like she had just sucked on a lemon, and was generally grouchier than the green monster in the garbage can. She claimed to be an assassin for the U.S. government back in her heyday. Technically, I suppose she was a sniper, but I always wondered how many of those stories were true and how many were embellished.
Mabel was about as loved as a bat in your bedroom at three a.m. The truth is, the guy she was riding like a bucking bronco at the rodeo did the world a favor. Even my dad, her only child, was tired of her crankiness. He wanted her to go to an assisted living facility, but Mabel insisted she wasn’t leaving her home until they hauled her out to the body farm. I can’t blame her for wanting to stay independent, and I’m relatively certain the assisted nursing facilities were grateful she wouldn’t be spreading her negativity, which was as thick as peanut butter, across their residents. While cranky, Mabel defined spry, proud she didn’t have a twinge of pain at eighty-five. Needless to say, it seemed odd to me she suddenly died of a heart attack out of the blue, but it’s true what they say. When it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go. I loved Mabel in the same kind of strange way she loved us, from a distance and without expectations.
Mabel had a mean streak a mile wide. Case in point, when my dad fell in love with, and proposed to, a beautiful Hispanic woman, Mabel threw a hissy fit to end all hissy fits. She didn’t want her son marrying a girl from Mexico, even though the girl from Mexico had lived in the United States for a decade, legally. Mabel refused to go to the wedding, so my dad refused to mention her on the invitations or as part of the groom’s family. He didn’t want her or her judgmental attitude to ruin the day for him or his bride. I’ve seen the pictures and videos of their wedding day and I think Mabel had it all wrong. She missed out on not only a beautiful ceremony and party, but on seeing how two people in love can come together regardless of the culture they grew up in, and become one. Mabel refused to have anything to do with my dad and his new bride, even when her first grandchild, my sister Tabitha, was born. A few years later, my sister Cinnamon was born and they gave her the middle name Mabel, hoping to appease the woman and bring her back into the fold.
Cinn is the middle child in our family, and while Mabel carried negativity like a prized possession, Cinn carries positivity like a superpower. It’s hard to describe Cinn, but if asked, I would say she’s the biggest bottle of awesomesauce you can find. She’s a musical genius, and I don’t mean on one instrument. Cinn can play just about every instrument and has done so since she was a little girl. Any she can’t play, give her about an hour with it and that will change. Her musical abilities allowed her to play with professional jazz bands for a year until she fell ill and had to come home. Now she teaches band to musical geniuses like herself. She and I are close. Even though she’s six years older than I am, she and I spent a lot of time together running to ball practice.
Of the three of us, Cinn formed the closest bond to Mabel, well as close as you could get to a porcupine anyway. When our parents bestowed her with Mabel’s name, it was like a magic fairy wand instantly sprinkled her with guilt dust. Now, with age and maturity, I see Cinn wasn’t driven by guilt, but by a connection to Mabel the rest of us didn’t have. Being I’m six years younger than she is, and referred to in the family as the ‘surprise’, I started attending Cinn’s family dinners with Mabel by the time I was six.
Tabitha, the drama queen of the family, is all glitter and glam, insisting everyone bow down at her feet. Okay, maybe she’s not that bad, wait, yes, she is. Some days you want to lock her in a room so you can have five minutes of peace and quiet. Tabby, which is what we call her, is thirty, which makes her nine years older than I am. Too bad she still doesn’t have a clue what she wants to be when she grows up. I was at lunch the other day and one of my buddies told me he had a great time with Tabby the night before, while she was working the pole at our local strip joint. I’ve never been prouder in my life. That was sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.
I’m the third and final installment to the Dalton siblings, Lorenzo Bennie Dalton. I’m twenty-two, but everyone still treats me like a baby. Everyone but Cinn, that is. She understands who I am and what I want out of life. She often runs interference with my dad, Bennie, who thinks I’m not taking my new career seriously enough. I graduated trade school and am finishing my carpentry apprenticeship now. I find nothing more satisfying than creating something with my hands which is beautiful and stands the test of time. My dad, on the other hand, has aspirations of me working for a company building skyscrapers and raking in the dough.
I checked my watch and huffed quietly. It was ridiculous we even had to be here, considering Mabel donated her body to science. The body farm took her from the house with plans to let her body steep in the hot California sun after they riddled it with bullets. I’m sure there’s some point to it, but the whole idea gives me the heebie jeebies, so I didn’t ask a lot of questions. I took a peek around the chapel and the only one who appeared truly sad and upset was Cinn. She was sitting on her hands, her head bowed. For a moment, I wondered if her stomach had started bothering her again. Cinn gets sick a lot, and stress always made her illness worse. The fact is, everyone else sitting here would be happy to skip the service and go right to the reading of the will, but Cinn’s personality left her with too much love and regret for Mabel to be disrespectful. I suspect no one understood Mabel as well as Cinn. I’m not sure if it's saying a whole lot, since even her son didn’t know who she was at the depths of her soul. Something told me Cinn had Mabel pegged, and would miss her more than any of us combined.
If I had to describe Mabel in one word, it would be ‘rich’. It didn’t matter to us, since she would likely leave all her assets to the humane society, but we’ll find out in a few minutes. I sat and pondered if my attitude today stems from the fact I hardly knew Mabel, and therefore never had any warm grandmotherly like feelings toward her. Maybe the fact I wanted to get this over with so I could get on with my Saturday, answered my own question. I would feel guilty, but the family dynamic was what it was, and feeling guilty wouldn’t change it.
The minister recited the Lord’s Prayer with us and ended the service. I stood, happy to get out of this place, and away from Tabby’s fake wailing. Like I said, total drama queen. Myma?awas trying to comfort her without rolling her eyes all the way to the back of her head. Tabby might win an Academy Award one day if she keeps practicing.
“Do you want to ride with us to the lawyer’s office?” my dad asked as I watched Cinn walk out the door. Tabby was sniffling underMa?a’sarm as they stood waiting for me to decide if I wanted to deal with her for the ride across town. Tabby may have been playing the grieving granddaughter, but it was all for show, so if she does land into some of Mabel’s money, she’s done her time. Those of us who lived in the real world had already figured out it wasn’t going to happen.
I decided to follow Cinn’s lead and shook my head at my dad. “I would, but I have my truck here, so I’ll meet you there.”
Dad patted me on the back. “Alright, but don’t be late. What I mean is, if the line at the bakery is too long, skip it.”
I snickered at his words as I headed down the aisle and left the chapel. He knew me too well. I craved a custard long john after such a depressing service and had every intention of grabbing a donut to soothe my grieving heart. I climbed into my truck and started it up, signaling left out of the funeral home and heading downtown. This grieving stuff is hard work. Maybe I should get two donuts.
I sipped the coffee I picked up at the bakery, and kept an eye on everyone over the top of my cup. Tabby had pulled her fake self together and sat primly next toMa?a. Cinn appeared incredibly uncomfortable and stood to leave, I suspected, when the lawyer strode through the door. She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand.
“Is everyone here then?” asked the lawyer.
“We are,” my dad answered.
“Let’s get started,” he said as he opened the flap on a manila envelope and slid out a pack of papers, which were surprisingly thick considering Mabel’s lack of friends.
“As you all know, Mabel made me the executor of her will. While each of you are entitled to your own copy of the will, and I have one here for each of you, she left specific instructions about how the will reading should be accomplished.”
I cleared my throat. “I guess we know where Tabitha got her flare for the dramatics.”
My dad slapped me on the shoulder and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Tabby was huffing like a horse after a race and Cinn was trying to hide a smile.
The lawyer shuffled through some of the papers and then glanced up again. “Is it all right if I skip the formalities and get right to the nitty gritty?”
“By all means,” my dad said and motioned at the paperwork. “We don’t need to take up any more of your time than necessary.”
The lawyer nodded and put on his glasses to read the papers. “Mabel has left her son the remainder of her stocks and savings bonds. I believe the amount was near one hundred thousand dollars, but this hasn’t been updated since last year. I’ll give you her financial planner’s information and you’ll need to contact him to decide if you want to cash in the stocks and bonds etc.”
My father nodded. “I will, thank you. Wow, I’m shocked she left me anything.” I could tell he andMa?awere genuinely surprised, and secretly pleased.
“Next, Mabel has left her car to her grandson, Lorenzo Bennie Dalton.” I gasped, mesmerized as the lawyer dug in a second envelope and tugged out a key, sliding it across the table to me. “The spare key. She indicates the other sets are on her key board in her laundry room.”
I clutched the key in my hand and nodded, excitement oozing from every pore. “Yes, sir, I know where they are.”
Mabel left me her car, holy man! Did I forget to mention Mabel drove a BMW coupe? It’s a sweet little car, and I couldn’t wait to get my butt in the seat. So far, Mabel was surprising us all.
“Next, Mabel left the family diamond and ruby ensemble to Tabitha, the eldest granddaughter.”
