Over Her Dead Body(38)

“Sweet that she made the effort,” Aunt Rita offered. So I corrected her.

“Oh, she only flew in because she’d invited Faye Dunaway and didn’t want her to have to sit by herself.”

Aunt Rita considered that. “And how did you feel about that?”

“I had to play ‘La campanella’—I felt nervous as all hell!” I knew she wanted me to say something substantive, like I was flattered she’d invited Faye to my recital or pissed she didn’t stay longer, but “La campanella” is a beast, and I’d dreaded that recital for weeks.

The memories were flooding back now, so I blurted out another one. “Then there was the time she came back from Russia with a sixteen-year-old girl who she said was going to be my new sister.”

Aunt Rita’s eyes got big like golf balls. “She adopted a Russian girl?”

“Her name was Olga, of course. She was six feet tall with long dark hair and eyes as blue as a tropical sky. I think Charlie was in love with her.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“My dad put the kibosh on it. He thought it might traumatize Charlie and me. Unfortunately the trauma had already been inflicted by the mere arrival of the poor girl.”

“Yes, I can imagine.”

“Dad did his best to keep Mother’s impulses in check, but after he died, she went full crazytown. Obviously.”

Rustling up these memories was starting to make me feel light-headed. I looked around for a bottle of water, but Neutral Third Party hadn’t thought to put any out.

“What about Charlie?” she asked.

“What about him?”

“Do you think he’ll try to dispute this?”

I thought about what Charlie might do. “Not on his own accord,” I answered honestly. “But that wife of his can be quite the bully.” Charlie was the textbook definition of pussy whipped. I would have felt sorry for him if I wasn’t so consumed with feeling sorry for myself.

I wondered if Aunt Rita had an agenda with all her questions. Does she want us to protest the will? Was she hoping for a bigger cut? Was she projecting when she asked if I was disappointed? I would have been perfectly pleased to keep talking to her, but her next question crossed the line.

“Why was your mom so mad at you?”

She could have asked me anything else—if I’d felt neglected as a child (yes), if I regretted staying in San Jose after college (no), if I felt like a stupid twat face that I hadn’t seen this giant snub coming (duh!), but the question of why my mom had disowned me was off-limits.

“Excuse me, I need to talk to Charlie,” I said. Because the story of how my mother came to hate Charlie and me was not one I was willing to tell.





CHAPTER 30




* * *



CHARLIE


“Hey,” I called after the woman who’d just stolen my inheritance. “Hey!”

By the time I caught up with her, she was already at the elevator, waiting for it to save her from my wrath.

“Who are you?” I demanded. She didn’t answer or even turn to look at me. “Hey! I asked you a question!”

“Leave her alone,” a male voice called out from behind me. I looked over to see my cousin Nathan jogging toward us.

Ding. The elevator arrived. The woman slipped in without so much as acknowledging me. I tried to follow, but Nathan grabbed me.

“Let go of my arm!”

“I know you’re upset,” Nathan said. “But don’t take it out on her.”

“In case you weren’t paying attention, that woman just got ten million dollars of my money,” I said, then corrected myself. “Our money. And you’re going to just let her walk away?”

“This was your mom’s doing. Lashing out at Ashley is not going to do any of us any good here.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly remembering how he’d called her by name in the room, too. “Do you know her?”

“Yes, no . . . Not really.”

“What does that mean?” I pressed. “Either you know her or you don’t.”

He hesitated, then confessed, “I went on a date with her.”

I felt like the floor had just fallen out from under me. I had to grab the wall for balance. What the hell kind of conspiracy is this?

“What’s shakin’, boys?” Winnie asked as she joined us in the vestibule. “And who was that woman who just put us in the poorhouse?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Nathan said. “We’ll work something out.”

“Oh! You know her?” Winnie asked.

“She’s his girlfriend,” I said, knowing my tone was accusatory and not caring one bit.

“It’s not like that,” Nathan insisted. “I only just met her. We went on one date.”

“Well! Your timing is excellent,” Winnie quipped.

“This isn’t funny, Winnie,” I shot back. “You heard what the lawyer said. That will is legally binding!”

“I’ll talk to her. Let’s just let the situation breathe for a day or two,” Nathan said, like being cut out of your inheritance was no big deal.

“I don’t have a day or two,” I snapped back. “I have kids. I took off work to come here—my wife and I both did. If I don’t get that money, I’m fucked.”