“‘I have asked Luis to read this letter because I want you all to know that you and your well-being are the things that matter to me the most. Everything I’ve ever done, I’d done with each of you in mind.’”
Billy shifted in his seat, and I moved my eyes to him. He looked desperately uncomfortable. The absurdity of the situation made me want to laugh. Poor Billy. He’d never courted my father’s fanatical favor. I had to wonder, did my father have a crush on Billy? Was that what had really been going on? Because, obviously even to the end, my daddy had been blind to Billy Winston’s indifference for him.
“‘We won’t be reading the will itself as I have summarized my wishes here. All legal documents should’ve already been sent to probate and are a matter of public and court record by now. I asked Luis to keep this fact a secret from all of you in particular until you were all gathered, because it’s important to me that you learn of my wishes from this letter, not from a will written with all that legal mumbo jumbo.’” Luis chuckled here, like he found the term mumbo jumbo to be charming.
When no one else laughed, he cleared his throat and continued, “‘I need you to know, I forgive those of you who have slandered my good name. I promised my God I’d leave this world forgiving each of you who needed it. Hopefully, this act of charity and grace on my part will help you forgive yourselves.’”
If the words hadn’t been so tragically ludicrous, I might’ve burst out laughing.
“‘First, my dear Billy. The son I should’ve had. I hope you know that—’”
“You can just skip it,” Billy interrupted and lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Mr. Leeward peered at Billy over the rim of his glasses. “Are you sure? ’Cause he left you something.”
“Donate it.”
“Uh, pardon me?”
“Whatever it is, I do not want it. Donate it.”
Mr. Leeward patted down his front suit pocket and fumbled for a moment, eventually pulling out one of those thick, fancy-looking fountain pens. “Okay then. Where shall I donate the car?”
“The car?” Elena placed her hand on the table, angling her body toward the lawyer.
“Yes. Kipling left Mr. Winston his BMW.”
Billy shrugged. “How about you donate it to a women’s shelter.”
“What?” Elena’s question cracked like a whip. “But what am I going to drive?”
“I have the name of one,” Cletus spoke up, pulling out his cell phone. “It’s the one Claire McClure used to volunteer at before she moved to Nashville. I’ll email it to you both.”
Billy considered his brother for a moment before glancing at his knees. “Sounds perfect.”
“All right then. So noted.” Mr. Leeward tucked his fancy pen back in his pocket and ignored Elena’s loud huff of displeasure. Blinking a few times at the letter, he began again, “Let’s see. Ah yes. ‘Diane. I leave you nothing but the grace of my forgiveness, which is more than enough considering. Be grateful I haven’t asked God to damn you to—uh—hell.’” Mr. Leeward fiddled with his glasses, the words obviously inspiring a tad bit of discomfort. “‘As my wife, you were willful and—’”
“How long does this continue?” Cletus asked. “Can we vote to skip it? She’s not even here.”
“Moving on,” Isaac said almost cheerfully, and I glanced at him. He wore a smirk, his attention affixed to Mr. Leeward’s face.
“Yes. Of course. This section does go on for quite a long time. Ms. Donner isn’t here, so we should skip it. I’ll just make sure I make a copy for her.” Leeward set down two pages of the letter, presumably filled with hateful rhetoric for my mother.
“Ah, yes. This is better. ‘Elena, my love. Thank you for always being the better woman. You have my gratitude to sustain you in your life. I’ll always be in your heart.’” Leeward sent Elena a small, encouraging smile, then turned his attention back to the letter. “‘Isaac, you have been a disappointment—’”
“Hold on.” Elena lurched forward. “What else?”
“Pardon?” Leeward inclined his head as though to hear her better.
“What else? That can’t be all.”
“No, no.” The lawyer gestured to the letter in his hands. “There’s more.”
“Oh. Good.” She reclined, looking relieved.
After clearing his throat, Luis Leeward added, “We still have Isaac and Jennifer.”
All eyes turned to Elena. She grew very still. “No, Mr. Leeward. I mean, what else did he say about me?”
“Uh—” Another clearing of the throat. “Ms. Wilkinson . . .” Mr. Leeward paused, chuckling nervously, his sparse eyebrows darting upward. Looking pained, he sent an unmistakably pleading glance to Billy. “Mr. Winston, may I implore upon your, uh, leadership skills here.”
“What is it you’d like me to do, Mr. Leeward?”
“Would you mind reading the rest of the letter?” His hands shook a little as he held it out to Billy, and I didn’t know if it was because he was nervous, afraid, or just had a slight tremor. “My voice is failing me, I think. Seeing as how Kipling was such a good friend of mine, it’s a hard thing for this old man to do.”
“Certainly.” Billy stood, his imposing height, stature, and presence shrinking the room. He took the letter from Leeward, scanned the page he held, and something quite interesting happened. He smiled.
Not a big smile. In fact, it was a small smile, real small. The kind Billy wore when he was trying not to smile.
Billy did not clear his throat. “Ms. Wilkinson, to your question, there doesn’t appear to be any additional mention of you in this letter, unless it’s on a later page. I will hand it over to you once I finish reciting it, should you wish.”
“I—I . . .” Elena’s mouth opened, closed, opened as the blood drained from her face. “I—are you sure?” Her brittle voice finally cracked.
Ignoring Elena’s quiet breakdown, Billy rushed through the words, delivering them with stoic efficiency. “‘Isaac, you have been a disappointment to me your whole life. Even as I contemplate death, I think you are my biggest regret’ . . . etcetera.” Billy lifted his attention to Isaac, his gaze mimicking his tone. “I’m not reading this to you, Isaac. Point is, your father has nothing kind to say, and he left you nothing.”
“Thanks. Got it.” Isaac, still smirking, nodded once. He didn’t look the least bit upset. Amused, bemused, but not upset. However, my brother had always been a master at pretending not to feel anything. Growing up, I’d been the only person he confided in, the only person he trusted with any part of himself.
My heart pinged, aching terribly, and my eyes stung with a rush of feeling. I didn’t miss my father. I didn’t care about the letter or the will or any of it. Elena could swim in her vault of riches.
I missed my brother. He was the only reason I’d come. I’d wanted to see him. I missed him.
Abruptly, Isaac’s eyes cut to mine, and held. Instinct had me looking away, a smarting of embarrassment heating my cheeks as my throat tightened with uncomfortable emotion. His gaze had been indifferent, cold. I doubted the same could be said about mine.