Chapter 4
Heath
. Less than four years after my mother abandoned this earth, Mr. Shaw is taken from us too.
Maybe this patch of sea and sky is vindictive when it comes to parents.
It doesn’t just steal mothers, it takes fathers, too.
It’s sudden, though not a surprise. He’s been unwell—blood pressure high, immune system weak.
Life has taken a toll on him, and he hasn’t been the same man I met when I first walked through these gates..
But it still hurts to lose him. Shaw believed in me, and he loved Katelyn like no one else. The report cards full of straight A’s were achieved so I could see him beaming with pride when I unveiled my grades to him.
It’s Kat who found him face down on the floor of his walk-in closet.
He was clad in boxers, and a button-down, halfway through tying his tie when he went into cardiac arrest. We’d been at school all day.
Henry was home, but he was too hungover or too negligent to check in on his ailing father, who lay for hours, dying and alone.
Poor Katelyn is heartbroken, I’ve never seen her so bereft, and Henry is ecstatic, barely able to contain his joy at the passing of his father, the man who gave him life. I’m not related by blood but my loss is tremendous, he was the only father figure I’d ever known.
I hold Katelyn while she sobs, and it’s all too reminiscent of losing Mom. I wipe her face with a tissue and brush strands of hair back from her temple.
“You know what this means, Heath?”
I could mean a lot of things—one being that I have to leave Katelyn and Wainscott Hollow.
If Shaw made no provisions for me, I’m penniless once again.
I’ll have to drop out of Fairmont and get my GED or enroll in a public high school for my senior year.
But the question is, where? Back in the South Bronx?
“We’ll be okay,” I whisper, assuring her. Though I’ve never been more unsure of my future or hers. We will probably not be okay, but that’s the last thing I want to tell her.
“Henry will be in charge. He’ll be the man of the house. We’ll have to live under his thumb, and he hates us both.”
I want to say it’s not true or tell her he won’t, but we’ve already been under Henry’s rule since Shaw took ill and stood by helplessly as he made the worst decisions. His method is to run off anyone who threatens him. Henry is a coward and a narcissist—the worst combination.
“I’ll never forgive him for cremating him. Dad told us so many times to bury him next to Mom,” Katelyn laments. “He wanted to be close to us, close to Mom for eternity.”
I’d heard Shaw say it myself, his wishes to be laid to rest next to his loving wife.
But he didn’t make provisions with his lawyer, so Henry did what he wanted, which was forgo the ceremony in lieu of a quick cremation, and signing of papers.
Katelyn was horrified. She begged her brother to at least scatter his ashes in the sound.
But Henry refused and kept his father’s remains in an urn on his dresser like a dark overlord controlling the man posthumously.
Henry wants power, and his father’s death has emboldened him.
“Ah, there you are. Heath, you shouldn’t be in here,” Henry scolds upon entering Kat’s room.
He’s wearing Shaw’s clothes which drape and sag on him.
making him look like an angry little boy playing dress-up.
“The lawyers are here to read the will, down in the den. Wash your face and come down, Katelyn. You won’t be needed, Heath. ”
When he exits, Kat looks at me with her blue eyes round with fear.
“Father loved you, Heath. Of course, you should come to the reading of the will. He considered you his own. He was so proud of all you’ve accomplished.
” Kat hangs on my chest, so ragged with grief she can barely stand on her own.
“We’re both orphans now. I’m not dumb, Heath.
I know minors can’t be emancipated from a dead parent.
Henry will become my guardian, and he’ll do everything in his power to make my life a living hell! ”
She’s not wrong. But I refuse to live in fear of Henry fucking Shaw.
“We’ll leave together, Kat. Run away with me and we’ll make a new life for ourselves far away from Henry and Wainscott Hollow,” I tell her.
A few minutes later, we descend the grand staircase and make our way to the den. Our journey there feels like a funeral procession. We hold hands and walk the plank together.
Inside Shaw’s den decorated with dark woods and gold upholstery, three lawyers appear to be in deep conference with Henry Shaw, who still looks like a snot-nosed kid in grown-ups clothing.
His face falls when he sees us, his disappointment at my arrival apparent. But perhaps some of Shaw’s decorum did wash off on Henry because he doesn’t ask me to leave in front of the executors.
“Condolences, Miss Shaw and Mr. Clifton, I presume,” the balding lawyer in wire-framed glasses says, offering us his hand. “Mr. Shaw was a pillar of the community on the sound, and Wainscott Hollow is an iconic estate that was cared for so beautifully.”
We greet them and sit as close to one another as humanly possible without sharing a chair. Henry sits near the executors as if to say he’s on their side and already knows what the will might say.
I say a silent prayer in my head, an old standard from Catholic school I can conjure up by heart. I’m not exactly religious, but it’s my duty to protect Kat. We’re now all each other has, and I’m desperate for an easy way out of this situation.
Donahue is the name of the bald lawyer in glasses who appears to be in charge, and he reads through technicalities and how he will be guiding the estate through the probate process.
The three of us are the only beneficiaries in the will he informs us, and Mr. Shaw updated it twice—after the death of his late wife and after the passing of his housekeeper, Peggy Clifton.
Kat takes my hand and squeezes until her knuckles are white. Her eyes brighten, and she looks at me at the mention of my mother. Mr. Shaw was planning ahead, and maybe he did love me after all.
“The entirety of Wainscott Hollow, the physical property, beach front, as well as all structures and vehicles on the estate will be put into the name of Mr. Henry Shaw. Financial funds, liquid assets, and investments will be put into the name of Mr. Henry Shaw. A financial trust to the sum of one million dollars will be held in the name of Miss Katelyn Shaw, frozen until she reaches the age of twenty-five. A provision totaling five hundred thousand dollars in liquid assets will be left to Mr. Heath Clifton, accessible within the week. Legal guardianship of Miss Shaw will fall to her older brother Henry Shaw until she’s of age… ”
I watch as a wicked smile overtakes Henry’s face. Kat goes pale, and her pulse surges through our clenched hands. A tiny gasp escapes her, and she parts her lips, but she puts on a brave face, knowing as well as I do that Henry thrives off of his ability to scare us.
Kat is seventeen. That means a full year of living under Henry’s rule until she can leave.
Realistically speaking, if Kat cannot access her trust until the age of twenty-five, then she’s trapped here for longer.
Thank God Shaw left me enough to care for both Kat and myself.
We won’t be rich, we won’t be living in a place like Wainscott Hollow, but we can be comfortable.
Five hundred thousand dollars is more than anyone in my family could have left me.
It’s tremendously generous and almost makes me weep with gratitude.
With this money, I’ll be able to finish out my senior year at Fairmont, maybe even get into a good school and afford a college education—a gift that wasn’t in the cards on my mother’s salary—not without a full scholarship or a lifetime of student loan debt in front of me.
When we finish the meeting, Henry is smug and gloats like he’s come out on the winning team, which I guess, as far as what he values, he has.
Money, power, greed, control—Henry’s got everything he ever wanted.
Without the moral intervention and checks and balances put in place by Mr. Shaw, Henry can rule his dominion as the heartless villain he aspires to be.
“Katelyn, now that I’m in charge, I’d like to talk to you about your dress,” Henry tells Kat between bites of pizza and slugs of beer. The way he eats is grotesque.
We’ve ordered pizza and are eating in the kitchen. Without Mr. Shaw around, it feels ridiculous to eat in the formal dining room.
Kat pauses with her slice halfway to her mouth, then returns the piece to the plate without taking a bite.
“Your weight has gotten out of control, and I think by not saying anything, Dad was enabling you. You need a trainer and a diet that addresses the issue. We can try to turn this around before it’s too late.”
Kat nods solemnly, and I’m so shocked, I can barely speak. Kat is perfect the way she is. I love her healthy body that she lives in so freely.
“Your tits are huge and indecent, and they need to be covered up. And your ass has gotten so fat, people stare at it like a bad car accident. Not a good look for a Shaw,” Henry guffaws.
“Henry, for Christ’s sake! What gives you the right?” I admonish him.