16. Hannah #2
"Well…" I bite my lip, looking down. "It's best if I start at the beginning.
" He nods, pulling out a pen to take notes, and I continue.
"My mom and Paul got married right after I turned nine.
I had been so excited to gain three new stepsisters.
They….they didn't feel the same." I say lamely, internally cringing at the understatement of the century.
"Nana…she was the only one who treated me like family.
Paul was fine, he wasn't mean or anything, but he also was just kind of…
there. Same with my mom. My brother and I had to fend for ourselves for a few years after Dad died, so we were sort of used to it.
But Nana?" I chuckle, shaking my head at the memories.
"She treated us like we were hers . She brought us just as many Christmas presents as my step-sisters, who hated that, by the way.
She went out of her way to spend time with each of us, one-on-one.
I feel like I was the only one who soaked up the attention, though.
My brother, Kieran, was a typical teenage boy, and my step-sisters acted like spending time with her was a chore .
" I still feel the anger in my chest. How they called her names under their breath and rolled their eyes when she fussed over them.
I used to look forward to the day, once a month, when she would pick me up from school and we would spend the afternoon together.
"Well, the summer I turned fourteen, she retired and moved from Laguna Falls to Starbrook City.
It was a little lonelier without her, but I knew she was having fun in retirement. I had Cady, Kieran, and…" Charlie.
Trailing off, I focus my attention on my drink before speaking again.
"Then, two years later, she got sick enough that she ended up in the hospital, and they wouldn't let her go home unless she had a support system in place.
I volunteered. Paul drove me down to Starbrook City, helped get his mom settled, and then I was her support system, just like she was mine.
I lived with her until she checked herself into an assisted living facility three years ago.
She was afraid that she was 'holding me back'.
" I put air quotes around the last three words.
"I still visited, she started sending her friends to me to get their hair done, and then, a year ago…
" I sniffle, tears filling my eyes at the memory of the phone call.
The one where she told me she had been diagnosed with lung cancer, despite never having smoked a day in her life, and she would not be pursuing treatment.
"She got sick. Honestly, I thought all of her money would have gone to paying for the living facility and medical bills.
" Shrugging, I meet Brody's sympathetic gaze.
"I didn't realize she left me everything, either.
I thought I only got a portion of it. Until Cat's pissed off voicemail. "
He perks up. "Cat? One of the step-sisters?"
"Yeah," I give a bitter laugh, rolling my eyes, "she ranted at me, convinced I had done something to tip the scales, never considering that maybe her own damn negligence caused her to be left out of the will."
"Do you still have it?" he asks, leaning forward.
I nod. "Yeah, unfortunately. I should have just deleted it."
"I'm glad you didn't." He makes another note on his legal pad. "Once we leave here, I'll give you my card and you can email it to me."
"Sure. So…now that you've heard my side of the story…?"
He runs a hand over his face. "It's clear from your side that Sylvie Pearson left you what she did because you were the only who…
well, gave a shit, pardon my language. You were the only family member with her the last twelve years of her life, and it makes sense that she would want you to have what she left behind. "
His words sound good, but his tone… "I sense a 'but' coming," I say quietly.
"But…" He looks down at the now-empty manila envelope.
"Herman & Sons. They are absolutely ruthless.
They're going to hone in on the fact that you didn't have a biological connection to Sylvie and try to use that to rip apart our case.
They're going to say that you plotted this from the beginning, and that the whole time, your plan was to get the woman's money. "
"Since I was nine ?" My mouth drops open, and Brody gives a resigned sigh.
"It's ridiculous. But it's what they're going to do.
So what we need to do is strengthen our case until it's indestructible.
We need it all. Every picture, every voicemail, email, text, sticky note, anything that shows what a strong and loving connection the two of you had.
" My mouth goes dry, and I hold back tears, thinking of the voicemail I keep on my phone.
My last voicemail before she passed. The thought of sharing that with anyone, it makes me feel protective.
Territorial. Why should they get to witness that precious memory?
Regardless, I feel myself nodding.
"And on the same point," Brody continues, "we need evidence against your stepsisters. Anything that shows how little they cared and what they really thought of her. Show that there's no way Sylvie would have left them more than a dollar."
"Like the voicemail she left me," I say dryly.
"Exactly."
After promising to send Brody everything I have over the next week, we part ways, and I feel a little lighter. At least we have a game plan.
The feeling is short-lived, however, when my phone rings. Huffing a breath through my nose as I walk to my car, I answer the phone when the caller ID reads "Mom". But hey, maybe Kieran talked them into putting my step-sisters on a leash.
"Hey, mom." I pull the door open to my car and slide inside.
"Hannah, it's both Paul and I here."
"Oh. Hi, Paul." Gods, could I be more awkward? "What's up?"
"Kieran called us about the girls and Sylvie's estate." Paul says, matter-of-factly, not hinting one way or the other how he feels about it.
Surely…surely they'll think it's ridiculous, right? But nobody sounds mad. No righteous anger on my behalf. Just…facts.
"Yeah, I just met with a lawyer about it, actually." How they react to that will tell me exactly how they feel.
"What?" Mom asks sharply. "Hannah, why would you do that?"
"Because…they're suing me?" I'm dumbstruck. They can't have just expected me to not fight back, could they?
"Listen, we tried not to get involved—" Mom starts, but Paul cuts her off.
"But this is ridiculous. How are we going to look as a family, taking each other to court?"
"Then maybe you should be speaking to the three daughters who literally took this to court." I seethe, my hands tightening on the wheel.
"Well, you don't really need all of it, do you?" Mom snaps. "I may not agree with how your step-sisters are going about it, but they deserve something —"
"Do they?" I ask incredulously. "Forget about the fact that I'm the one who was with Nana the last twelve years.
Forget about the fact that none of them showed up for her memorial service.
Forget about the damn fact that I'm the only one who's given a shit about Nana since I was nine years old—she left it to me .
She didn't forget about them. She wanted me to have it.
Are you really going to disregard her last wish? "
"It doesn't matter if she left it to you, Hannah," Paul stammers, clearly upset that I called them all out on their bullshit. "It's just selfish. You don't need five million dollars—"
"Five million ?" I choke out, in absolute shock. I thought it was half a million.
"That's right, sweetie." Mom changes her tune awfully quick. "And really, Paul and I are entitled to some of it too. I mean, we helped you move out there with her—"
Rage boils inside me at her words. Nana is fucking dead and they only care about the money.
"I would pay all of it, if it meant I could have her back, you fucking vultures," I spit.
"But since I can't, instead, when I win this damn court case, I'm going to donate all of it. Just to spite all of you."
Before they can they sputter their outrage, I end the call, breathing hard through my nose like a damn bull.
Vultures, the lot of them.
If I never speak to any of them again, it'll be too soon.