“Hi, Uncle Roy,” I said as he took my hands in his and gave them a squeeze. It was an oddly formal gesture that made me feel immediately self-conscious. Was it the hoodie that repelled him? Or the smell of last night’s whiskey emanating from my pores that made him want to keep me at literal arm’s length?
“Winifred,” he said, using my repugnant given name. I have reached the undeniable conclusion that my problems started at birth, upon being named Winifred, after the martyred patron saint of virgins. Virgins? Really? Besides representing an unrealistic standard of discipline and piousness, virgins are a total killjoy. Imagine if we all aspired to be virgins—the entire human species would go extinct. Nobody likes virgins, except old men with their hands down their pants, whose number one fantasy is to make them all not virgins. And I was supposed to be their poster child? Screw that.
“Nice to see you, Uncle Roy,” I said politely, squeezing his hands a little too hard, hoping to draw a whiff of a grimace. But he, in his infinite insensitivity, remained as inanimate as stone.
“This is a sad day for all of us.” Wasn’t it just like Uncle Roy to say something so obvious it made it impossible to offer an intelligent reply?
“Mmmmm,” I said, because what else was there to say?
“Shall we get started?” Neutral Third Party said, from the head of the conference table. I imagined he was on a flat fee, given that Mom was not available to pay overtime, so had every incentive to get down to business.
I waited for Uncle Roy to sit, then snagged the seat on the opposite end of the oblong, football-shaped table. My brother raised an eyebrow at me and I just shrugged. Nathan sat down in the seat across from his father, between me and Neutral Third Party, forcing my brother to take the seat next to Uncle Roy.
“Sorry,” I mouthed, and he just shook his head.
“So?” I whispered to Nathan, “Is she going to stick it to us?” I knew my mother complained about us to him. I thought maybe he might know something, and I wanted to be emotionally prepared.
“No idea,” he replied. “She did her will without my input.” That was the second time he’d said that. He knows something.
“Any idea how long we’ll be sitting here?” I pressed, suddenly worried the lowball of tequila I’d shot would not be sufficient to protect me from the pain on the other side of that dreaded piece of paper.
“None whatsoever,” he said glumly.
“Thank you all for being so punctual,” our master of ceremonies said. “I think we can begin.” His eyes floated toward the door, where a birdlike woman in a tweed suit was standing. She must have just walked in—I hadn’t seen her earlier. She looked to be a little older than me—late twenties maybe?—and wore an expression of sheer terror.
“There’s plenty of room here at the table,” the lawyer said to the woman. “Here. Come take my seat.” He popped up and swiveled the chair toward her, willing her to come and sit in it. I figured she was some sort of paralegal or associate, since she wasn’t a relative and I didn’t know my mother to have any cute, young friends.
“Thank you,” she said. She smiled at me as she passed, and I returned the kindness.
“Who do you suppose that is?” I whispered to Nathan, but he didn’t answer.
“Hi, Nathan,” the woman said as she sat down beside him. And I was immediately intrigued.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, just loud enough for me to hear.
And her answer was even more intriguing: “I have no idea.”
CHAPTER 28
* * *
CHARLIE
My mother sold her business for $4 million. I know that because she tried to give the agency to me when she realized she was too sick to continue running it.
“Are you really in a position to turn down four million dollars?” she’d asked, in a tone that made me feel like a big fat loser. I wasn’t, but I had a jealous new wife, and I didn’t want the trouble that came from being around hot actresses all day. Plus I didn’t know anything about casting or running a business and had dreams of my own that had nothing to do with either of those things. So yeah, it was—as they say in the movie business—a hard pass.
In addition to the $4 million Mom got from selling the business, she got another $3 million when Dad died. I don’t know why my father had such a big life insurance policy when my mom was the breadwinner, but he did. And she got it. So that’s $7 million in her coffers.
And then there was the house. I knew its Hansel and Gretel vibe wasn’t for everyone, but the land alone was worth at least $2 million. She had antiques and jewelry and closets full of designer shoes, clothes, and furs. She had a vintage Jaguar, a sizable stock portfolio, and an IRA. All in all, I guessed her total net worth was somewhere between $10 and $12 million—depending on the salability of that kooky old house.