I tuned him out. Two years of chasing this man and I was still in the same place I was on day one. And his intrusion had forced me to the same position I was on day one with Tara as well.
By the time I returned to listening to the conversation and quietly waging war against him for interrupting my session with Tara, he was quoting some personal philosophy.
“What are you trying to say, Mr. Von Strum?” I wanted to get back downstairs as soon as possible. “Get to the point.”
“I would like more time to consider your offer and entertain other buyers. We’ll see if any of our family members want to take a chance on running things.”
“Fair enough,” I said, standing and extending my hand. “This so-called emergency meeting is over.”
“Thank God for that,” his wife scoffed, rejecting my hand. “For the record, I would much rather prefer to talk to Miss Lauren from here on out.”
“Her answers will be the same as mine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Von Strum said, shunning my handshake as well. “She’s far more human than you’ll ever be. “Pardon my language, but I’m sure your parents aren’t too proud of the asshole you’ve become.”
“My parents are dead, but I’m sure they’re still looking down right now, feeling quite proud of the asshole I became.”
He gave me a slight look of sympathy, looking as if he wanted to apologize, but his wife pulled him out of the room.
“George,” I said, looking at him. “That meeting was the textbook definition of ‘not an emergency.’ You could’ve handled that on your own.”
“They showed up seconds after I called you,” he said, heading to the door. “The emergency is on line one. The person says it’s a family matter.”
Confused, I waited until he shut the door and picked up the phone. “This is Preston Parker. This better be important.”
“It is, sir,” a deep voice said. “But I have to tell you, this is a call I hate to make.”
“Yet, here we are.”
“There was an accident earlier this morning on the Triborough Bridge, sir. Your brother, Weston Parker, has passed away.”
Silence.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I pulled out my cell phone and typed “Triborough Bridge morning car accident” into the browser, and a full page of articles popped up. I couldn’t bring myself to click on any of them.
“His fiancée passed away in the accident as well, sir,” he said. “Do you, by chance have contact information for her?”
I didn’t even know he had a fiancée. “No.”
“Well, I know you two were probably close—”
“We weren’t.” I cut him off. “We weren’t close at all.”
“Oh. Um well, your brother was very meticulous about keeping an updated will, and as his estate representative, I need you to meet me down at the Rosy-Gan Bar & Café down the street from your headquarters. He left you something significant.”
I ended the call without saying anything at all. I stood still and numb, unsure of how to feel.
My brother and I hadn’t spoken in over a decade, and even when we were on speaking terms, it was only for the sake of our parents. The only thing we shared in common was our identical looks, as we’d honestly never gotten along in life. The “They’re twins! They’ll grow out of it and become best friends,” never happened and all we had to show for our relationship were our old staged pictures at milestone events.
I looked at them now and then, wanting to reach out, but I could never bring myself to do it. His name never crossed my call log either.
We’d failed to establish a connection during our early college years, and when our parents passed away shortly after graduation, we only called each other on holidays. After a while, we stopped calling each other altogether.
I never admitted it, but I still kept up with him through the press and all the budget hotel chain magazines, but that was it.
Feeling conflicted, I sent Tara a quick email and headed down to the Rosy-Gan Bar & Café.
I made it to the café minutes later, making my way straight toward a man in a grey suit.
“I’m Preston Parker,” I said. “Are you the guy who called me on the phone?”
“Yes, I’m Mr. Harris.” He extended his hand, but I didn’t take it. “Have a seat, Mr. Parker.”
I didn’t move.
“Okay, then,” he said, unclipping his keyboard. “I have a few things I need you to sign before I can hand over the things your brother left you.”
“Shouldn’t we be discussing his funeral?”
“No, your brother was very adamant about not wanting a funeral in his will, sir.” He handed me a standard acceptance contract, and I skimmed the short paragraph before signing my name.
“In the days to come, someone from my office will contact you regarding his remains—which he asked to be cremated, among other legal things, since you’re the next of kin. We’ll have to sift through all his business dealings and other contracts for quite a while before the other things are completely concrete. Speaking of which, they have a specialty brew here called Concrete. Want to try it?”
I gave him a blank stare.
“Right.” He cleared his throat and pulled a sheet from a manila envelope. “I’ll just read his words to you, give you the things, and let you go.”
“The sooner, the better.”
“Should anything ever happen to me, this note is for the last living member of my immediate family. My asshole brother.”
I smiled. I had the same line printed in my will for him.
“Preston, I want you to know that I’ve always understood why you shut me out after mom and dad passed away. You’ve never been good when it comes to expressing your emotions or handling grief, and I don’t think you’ve ever valued family or friends. You were never able to put those first … I know we’ve always been complete opposites since the day we were born, but I’ve always loved you, and I’ve always rooted for your success.”
“Is that the end?” I asked. “He left me his thoughts?”
“No.” He shook his head and continued reading. “I leave you a letter of personal words I wish I would’ve said sooner and my Violet.” He pulled out a fluffy pink and brown keychain that was engraved with the words “My Violet.”
“This is his greatest possession?” I asked, taking the keychain from him. “I’ll be sure to keep it in my best safe. Then again, is there anyone else he wanted me to share this with?”
“It would’ve been his fiancée, sir.” He looked down. “She doesn’t have any living family members.”
I held back a sigh. My brother was always far pettier than I was, but this was low. Even for him.
“I appreciate you making me come down here for a keychain.” I looked at my watch, feeling an unfamiliar ache in my chest. “You’ve wasted my time.” I started to walk away, but he jumped in front of me.
“Not so fast, Mr. Parker. Violet is not a keychain.”
“Then why did you give it to me?”
He sighed and held up the signed acceptance contract. “Didn’t you read the fine print?”