Page 1 of The Backup Groom
ChapterOne
Amber
“If you’re watching this video, it means my plan to live forever has failed miserably,” Uncle Garfunkel said in his gruff voice during a recorded reading of his last will and testament.
Technically, he was my great uncle—my grandmother’s brother—although he had insisted many years ago that we drop thegreatand refer to him as Uncle Garfunkel or Uncle G, for short.
He was an eccentric man, a certified genius, and the most outspoken member of the family by far. I admired him for his blunt honesty, even when the truth hurt, because I knew he did it with the best intentions, no matter who the person was.
Uncle G tilted his head toward the woman to his left in the video. “This is Paralegal Patty. She’s one of the two required witnesses to make this will legit, but she’s also transcribing every word that comes out of my mouth. And I mean every word. Pumpernickel. Wishy-washy. Fiddlesticks.”
Paralegal Patty kept typing with no expression on her face, which was impressive.
“Flim-flam. Discombobulated.”
Only Uncle G could make me smile during the reading of a will.
His sense of humor will be missed, but nothing comforted me more than to know he lived a long, full, inspired life on his own terms, and died from natural causes, peacefully in his sleep.
That’s how I want to go.
The man sitting on the other side of Uncle Garfunkel in the video cleared his throat. “We really should proceed with the reading of the will.”
Uncle G gestured to him. “And this is attorney Jimmy Biggs, the other witness, no relation to Jason Biggs, that adorable actor from the movieAmerican Pie. Jimmy is also here to make sure everything is on the up and up, and to keep me in line, I’m guessing.” He gave the man a merciless fake grin. “Good luck with that.”
Jimmy Biggs cleared his throat again. “You need to state your full name, along with the city and county in which you reside in order for this reading to be a legal and binding recording and document.”
“I understand, but shouldn’t I have some sort of departing theme song to lighten the mood?” Uncle G obviously wasn’t ready to get to the legal part of the will. “I think ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ is more than appropriate. I adored that Freddie Mercury fella, God rest his soul. And God rest my soul, while you’re at it!” He pointed upwards with just the right blend of demand and respectful request in his voice.
Burt Bicker, the pistachio-eating lawyer sitting in front of us at the law offices of Biggs, Babble, and Bicker, reached over to pause the video. “He wasn’t happy when Jimmy told him he couldn’t have music during the reading of his will.”
Burt was the one who had called to let me know that Uncle G had recorded his will for the kids. Even though my two cousins—Kathleen and Mercedes—and I were in our thirties, we were considered the kids in this scenario, which cracked me up. Apparently, the elders of the family were left out of the will since they were well-off and didn’t need the money.
I glanced over at Kathleen and Mercedes, studying them both.
Kathleen looked bored, which wasn’t a surprise since she’d brought her husband, Ron, with her. The man was a lump on a log and the least social person I had ever met. I was never able to take a liking to him because he never seemed genuine when he did actually speak.
Ron appeared to be counting with his fingers, probably trying to figure out what his cut was, although it would come via Kathleen.
As for Mercedes, she was downright rude, filing her nails. “This is already taking forever. Can we speed this up?”
The video of Uncle G was being shown to us on the large monitor on the wall behind Burt’s desk, even though the lawyer seemed to be more interested in his pistachios.
“Why couldn’t you add the music?” I asked, out of curiosity.
“Copyright laws,” Burt said. “We don’t wanna get sued, you know. Lawyers can be a real pain in the butt.” He cracked open another pistachio, popping the nut in his mouth. “By the way, it took them six hours to record a ten-minute video of your uncle.”
“Speaking of the video—can we get back to it?” Mercedes asked, pointing her nail file toward the monitor. “I don’t have all day and I’d like to know what I’m getting.”
Every head in the office turned toward her, including Burt’s.
“What?” she asked, not having a clue that her comment was insensitive and just plain wrong. “It’s not like you’re not all here for the money.” She went back to filing her nails.
Wow. I was speechless.
I had no idea what my inheritance would be, but I certainly wasn’t there for the money. It touched me that Uncle G even thought of leaving me something, anything.
As for Mercedes, she was family, so I was supposed to love her. The problem was, she made it very difficult since she had no redeeming qualities. I seriously don’t know how we could be related.
