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Baby steps. It’s Cas’s voice, poking at me even now, prodding me into action.
“You sure they won’t mind a stranger crashing their wedding?” I ask. Mrs. Weaver’s been a friend of my mother’s for years, but I’ve only met her husband once and I’ve never met their son at all.
“I’ll text her to make sure it’s all right with Alex, but you were included on the invitation,” says Mom.
Getting out of town could be fun. And if they don’t care that I’ve never met the bride and groom, why not.
It’s not a big step, but by God, it’s a step in the right direction.
“Okay, sure. Should be fun,” I say.
2
West
“Really, Weston, leave the coffee already. We’ve got things to discuss.”
My father’s voice chilled the room better than the plasticine A/C that came by default with the pre-furnished apartment. I wouldn’t call it soulless, though I could.
The apartment, not my father. Though a case could be made there, too.
I turned around at the counter, leaving the pot to percolate.
“It’s West,” I remind him.
“If I wanted people to call you West I wouldn’t have named you Weston,” he says, flicking aside the curtain to peer out the window. I don’t know what he expects to see out that window. The New Haven skyline ain’t exactly Lake Shore Drive. He sighs and walks back to the couch where my grandmother sits, perched as though the microfiber sofa might attack her at any moment.
Presenting a United Front, part one of the manipulation masterclass. In other words, just another day for the Thorpe family.
I set the steaming mug down and take a seat at the tiny kitchenette table. Putting as much furniture as I can between us might seem like a childish move, petulant even. I’m annoyed enough that I don’t care.
“Now Weston,” says my grandmother, folding her hands on her lap. “We need to discuss the terms of the will.”
“I’m not sure why,” I say, not being petulant any longer. “We were all in the same room. You heard what the lawyer said, same as I did. I’ll get my sisters to buy me out and that’ll be the end of it.”
My brother would have to buy in, too, no doubt. Beth is rubbish at managing her money, and Justine’s husband had a gambling problem he thought nobody knew about. Extracting myself from my grandfather’s mess of a will was going to take time, time I’d much rather spend back in Chicago. Anywhere in the world, rather than New Haven, in the bosom of my family.
My stomach sours at the thought.
“That’s precisely why we’re here,” says my father, glowering at me. “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”
It’s like looking at a time-traveling version of my future self—strong, masculine features, thick dark hair I knew for a fact he’d been dyeing since I was a teenager. Hair color not withstanding, looking at my father now, I probably ought to be grateful to the gene pool gods, but it’s been a long damn time since I’ve been satisfied with anything related to my family.
“Your grandfather specifically named you to take over the retail portion of Thorpe Industries,” says my grandmother. “Your siblings have their strengths, but none of them have quite your gift for numbers.”
“Which is why I work in finance, not the family business,” I say. “In Chicago.”
My grandmother waves a hand.
“We’ll need you here to fulfill your duties,” she says, dismissing the last decade of my life like smoke in a bar. The idea of my staid, buttoned-up grandmother in a smoky bar nearly brings a smile to my face.
Grandmother obviously takes my amusement as a sign of agreement. “Good, that’s settled, then,” she says, her posture relaxing a little.
“Nothing’s settled,” I say, checking the urge to growl at her. The situation is unpleasant, but even I draw the line at snarling at an eighty-nine-year-old woman, even if she’s made of Teflon and is most likely a vampire who’ll outlast us all. “My life is in Chicago. Nothing you’ve said today changes that.”
“You have a responsibility to your family,” says my father, clearly winding himself up.
“I have plenty of responsibilities elsewhere,” I say, cutting him off. “Starting with my employer.” My personal investments generate more money than the annual income I get from my job, but the Thorpes don’t need to know anything about that. It’s pretty much the only secret I’ve been able to keep from them.
