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Chapter 3 - Maddie: Conditions
I stared at the lawyer of my biological father. He was an old, balding man who looked like he’d had one too many donuts on his breaks. He wasn’t overly obese, but the man had some weight to him. I wondered if Ethan had ever seen him about his eating habits.
My eyes drifted to the empty bag of Doritos he had on his desk and the Diet Coke he was currently sipping. When he saw me staring at his can, he smiled.
“I’m trying to watch my weight. The diet isn’t as good as the original, but you know what they say, ‘health is wealth’.”
I gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded my head.
Is this man serious?
Now, it got me to thinking. Was Peter health-conscious? Was he as obsessed with fitness as I was? Did he like McDonald’s fries like I did? Did he have a sweet tooth when he was sad like me?
I still had so many questions that were yet to be answered where my bio dad was concerned. I wanted to know where I came from. I wanted to know all of who I was.
I wasn't a Vandlewoods anymore; well, I never was. Half of my ancestry was a lie. I wanted to know what my roots were.
Arnold slurped the last few drops of the coke before he let out a burp that had me turning my nose up in disgust.
Did this man know nothing about manners? Was Peter the same way?
This was the first time that Arnold or Arnie as Peter had lovingly called him in his letter, was meeting me. I had meant to meet him months ago, but he had been out of town, apparently on leave. He only returned two weeks ago and, when I had tried to see him then, he was fully booked.
I would have thought that the long-lost daughter of your dead best friend would have been a priority for him but alas. Which was how I found myself in his office, staring at him like he was an animal in the wild, and this was the first time I was seeing a creature like him. Which was a fact. I had been surrounded by posh aristocrats all my life. All I knew was elegance and poise. That was until I went to college and all I knew then was socialite life and status climbers.
“You know,” he started, “you have his face. You have your mother’s eyes but that face, that is Petie’s face for sure. Wow.”
I fidgeted in my chair, a little uncomfortable from his gaze. “Well I’ve never seen his face, so I wouldn’t know.”
His eyes widened. “You’re kidding?! Let me see if I can find one, give me a second.”
He rummaged through his top drawer before he pulled out a frame that had a picture of him looking surprisingly smaller. Next to him stood a man who had similar features to me. Arnold was right. I did look like him. My fingertips grazed the picture gently like I was scared I would rip it.
He was a fit man. His shoulders were broad, and his arms looked strong. Peter and Arnold were sitting on a boat with two beers in hand. They were smiling at the camera, enjoying life. One thing I noticed about him that was different from me was that his smile reached his eyes.
He was happy. Not the kind of happiness that you faked. Peter was truly happy and filled with light.
“He looks so happy,” I voiced my thoughts, looking up from the picture.
“He was always happy. You would never catch him without his smile,” Arnold said wistfully, then his face grew serious. “I knew it killed him to try and remain positive in those last few days, but he did it. He stayed with that damn smile on his face. Peter was the best of us. He had a heart of gold, that one.”
He was staring at me, but it was like he could see right through me. His mind had taken him somewhere else. His eyes glistened as tears welled up.
“I’m sorry.” He blinked away the tears and smiled at me. “You didn’t come here to be sad. You came here to hear about your dad’s will.”
I watched him brush away some stray tears. I had never seen a grown man cry before in my life; it was oddly fascinating.
Maybe it was because I was raised by a man who thought emotions made one weak. I was taught from eleven years old that only weak people cried and, if I cried, I’d be considered weak and would never survive life.
Maybe that was why so many of my so-called friends back home in New York called me the ice queen. They often said I had no feeling, and I had no sense of human emotion.
For a time, I had even believed what they said. I even believed what the sleazy tabloids had written about me. That's where the term 'ice queen' had come from.
I knew I was capable of feeling something. I had loved Daniel—my ex-boyfriend—or at least I had thought it was love. I had nothing to reference what love was meant to feel like.
Arnold opened the file that had been on his desk and flipped through some of the pages.
“So.” He smiled at me. “Your dad was quite the businessman. He was the one that supplied Riverroad, Sandlewood, Amberbay, and Angelstone with their produce. He was practically a town hero. He always cared about others, made sure to donate to the kids when winter came around, and the day before thanksgiving he would host the annual Riverroad Feast on his ranch. It was quite the show really. We didn’t have it last year what with him being sick and then passing but seeing as you are here, maybe we could pick it up again.”
