Chapter 5 #4
“I’m his goddamned nephew! What thanks do I get for it? Nothing, that’s what. He should’ve known better than to treat this family like his personal circus.”
Familiar heat floods my veins.
Just because Margot has rich parents doesn’t mean she’s not entitled to her inheritance. She actually spent time with Gramps and stayed on good terms with him.
Far better terms than Dad ever did.
He loves to ramble on for hours about what he’s owed, but he never did anything to earn it. If he’d been better with money, if he hadn’t started lying to Gramps, then maybe he’d be the one with the egg trying to find it a home.
But alas, here we are.
And here I am, sitting like a doll while he blames everyone else.
Typical Dad.
“I don’t know,” I finally say, swirling my wine. “Maybe their journey got a little crazy, but it ended pretty good. Ethan and Margot both got happily married out of it.”
I smile, remembering Margot’s gorgeous lakeside wedding.
Her hot former hockey player hubby wasn’t half-bad either. A grumpy single dad, a lot like—
Oh no. Don’t even think it.
But they seem happier than anyone I know.
“You might think it’s generous, Clee, but Uncle Leo was a bitter old miser till the end.
Selfish with his money and his secrets. He lived for drama, let me tell you.
” Dad jabs his fork at me. He’s clueless who he’s really talking about.
“There’s a good reason my Evie kept her distance.
She knew him better than anyone and she ran. ”
Elvira, my second cousin.
Her legendary falling out with PopPop caused huge ripples.
I remember Margot and Ethan not wanting to talk about it much whenever we’d visit. Why their mom hated her father so much.
Even so, Elvira never kept them away from him.
“That’s not fair,” I say as gently as I can manage. “Also, there’s no point in getting worked up over it anymore, right? He’s gone. Let it go.” Another lump in my throat I try to swallow. “There’s no point in staying mad at him.”
My father’s eyes sharpen, glacial blue.
“No point? You think I should roll over and let people walk all over us? He should’ve treated me better, Cleopatra. We’re family! We were a family. Once.”
“Dad, come on.”
“Miserly old fuck.”
My teeth grit together.
I’m surprised it still gets to me. Dad was never shy with broadcasting his feuds, and I normally stay out of it, but this is different.
PopPop loved me even though I was just a grandniece. He loved me when my dad said he hated him almost weekly.
He went out of his way to love me, to help me, to spend time with me while Dad was off in Europe or LA, trying to find another sucker who might offer up exorbitant sums for very basic stone sculptures.
No, I won’t just stand back and let Dad shit-talk him.
“It’s not his fault your art wouldn’t sell,” I say firmly. Dad’s bloodshot eyes snap back to me. “I know you want someone to blame, like always, but it’s not his fault.”
“Careful, girl. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah? You only talked about it a million times. I’m not a kid anymore.” I push my wine back. “Besides, didn’t he pay for you to study in France? That’s super generous.”
“Not enough. Not nearly fucking enough. Do you know how much he had? Billions. His connections? Infinite. He could’ve done a lot more.
I got the bare fucking minimum, Clee. A puny little pat on the head because he missed his brother.
” His nostrils flare as he huffs and he pours himself another glass.
I want to fall through the floor and never come back.
We’re in a chowder house and he’s chugging wine like it’s his last night alive. I doubt we even get the soup, which sucks when their clam chowder is top notch.
“And he could’ve done more for you too,” Dad continues. His hands shake slightly. I stare at the broken veins under the tip of his nose.
This man is the reason I’m alive, yet he feels like a total stranger sometimes. Hostile.
“Just like this joke of an inheritance.” His hand cuts through the air.
“It’s no joke,” I bite off.
“That’s what he wants to think. Uncle Leo always did get off on power.
Made people think they’re real special while he dangled a damn carrot meant to drive them crazy.
” His eyes focus on me again. “I know you won’t listen but at least hear this.
Don’t get too invested. In case it turns out to be more of his smoke and mirrors. ”
“Dad—” I swallow.
“He was always more trouble than he’s worth, Clee. I’m just sorry you couldn’t figure it out.” He drains the rest of his glass and pushes up from his seat. “Should’ve known it was a mistake to drive all the way up here from Boston,” he mutters as he lurches away.
“Dad, cool it. You can’t drive back home like this.”
He doesn’t answer.
I just stare at my father’s back, feeling my blood boil.
Outrageous man. But I’m over chasing him when he’s in this state. There’s an eighty percent chance he’ll wind up crashing for the night with some old friend or else hitting a bar a few blocks away and passing out in the back of his car until morning.
He already has at least one DUI under his belt and he’s scared of losing his license. He doesn’t really drink and drive.
Not that it helps much.
My anger turns hollow, like he’s scooped out everything good and replaced it with rotten pumpkin guts.
That’s how it goes half the time whenever we meet up for daddy-daughter social hour. Either he loves me or he resents me and he can never make up his mind.
He’s just wrong about so many things.
I know he is.
But there’s also an ugly grain of truth in his word sludge.
Gramps did enjoy drama and weird life lessons. His scavenger hunts were legendary growing up.
This feels like a high-stakes extension of that.
As I nurse my wine, I can’t help but wonder if the Hera Egg will bring me far more trouble than it’s worth.