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My cheeks flame at his crude language. “That’s not all I want.”
“Well, then I’m doubly glad she’s gone,” he snaps.
“Of course you are.”
“Look at the Riverses. They’re only one bad marriage away from having no more heirs. The woman Jacob married is a disaster. She’s a shrew, and it’s a house in constant turmoil.”
I look at him askance. “How in the world do you know that? Did you cross the border of Rivers Wilde and actually go and see them?”
“I would set myself on fire before I ever set foot in those people’s house. I regret like hell letting your father talk us into adding their name when we were naming this development. They just spat in our faces and live in that stupid mansion like they’re kings and this is their fiefdom. Like we are their serfs.”
The venom in his voice when he talks about the Rivers family never fails to surprise me. He’s a ruthless businessman, but he’s more of a float like a butterfly, sting like a bee type of man. When he talks about the Riverses, it’s with pure contempt and a very aggressive anger that is so unlike him.
“Do you know that Regan is friends with one of those boys? That girl has no loyalty. His name is Stone of all things. What kind of name is that?”
“Oh, come on,” I chide him. “Regan isn’t friends with any of them.”
He looks at me askance, but his eyes aren’t focused. “One day, they will come and kneel and pay their respects. And the minute they do, I’ll make sure they never get back off their knees again.” He slaps the arm of his chair.
“Pops. Chill you’re going to give yourself another stroke.” I nod at his fist. He’s clenching the newspaper so tightly that it’s nearly balled up.
He relaxes his hold and brushes his still full head of white hair off his forehead. “You’re right, and they are certainly not worth it. Lazy and lucky is what they are.”
I change the subject because once he really gets going on the Riverses, he can talk for hours. I reach into my back pocket. Pull out the letter I’ve been carrying around.
“I need to show you something.”
“What’s that?” he asks and I hold it out to him. My heart thumps a little because I already know what he’ll say.
He eyes me intently for a few seconds before he takes it from me. His fingers, gnarled by hard work and age, tremble slightly as he opens it. His eyes, rheumy yet with still nearly perfect vision scans the letter and he then he holds it out to me again.
“What does this mean?”
“I want to go.”
“To do what?”
“It’s a college. So clearly, to go to college.”
“They’re not even a division one school.” He shakes his head dismissively.
“No, they’re not. But they have a good basketball team. I’ll play, but I’m not looking to go pro anymore.”
His mouth drops open and the paper in his hand flutters to the ground. I bend to pick it up and sit back down on the chair and face him. His hand is covering his mouth and his eyes have a vacant look in them.
“You’ve always wanted to play. You love basketball.”
“No… I don’t. I’m really good at it. I win. If I practice, I’m the best player on the court, but I don’t love it.”
“I don’t know what to say.” His face is pale, and I feel a pang of worry. I reach over and touch his shoulder to reassure him.
“Pops, I still want to work for the family. I just want to do something more meaningful than make money.”
“Athletes make a difference. They use their money for good. They build schools, and hospitals…” he trails off, his eyes losing focus again.
“I already have money. I can do those things without basketball. But if I play basketball, I won’t get to do the one thing money can’t buy. I want to practice law. I want to make a difference that way.”
“Your mother’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.” I nearly sag with relief at the acquiescence in his tone.
