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“Find a way to assign the trust to my mother.”
I can’t believe what just came out of his mouth, and with real conviction in his voice, as if he not only thinks his request is reasonable, but that I might actually entertain it.
“We really shouldn’t be having this conversation,” I tell him. “Because it’s not going to end up anywhere you like.”
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
“Your father clearly wanted the trust to go to me, so by keeping it, I’m alreadydoingthe right thing.”
He holds up a hand, palm forward. “Maybe hethoughtthat’s what he wanted, but because of the illness, he really wasn’t thinking straight.”
This must be his mother’s plan B. If she can’t show that I extorted C.J., she’ll try to demonstrate he was unable to make the decision.
“His lawyer didn’t seem to think that was the case.”
Mark shakes his head. “Not out of his mind, but extremely morose. And tormented.”
“That sounds pretty normal for someone who’d been given only months to live.”
“If he’d really been himself, he wouldn’t have wanted to cause us any extra anguish as a family. He was a good father to me and my sister, and though he and my mother had their issues, it’s not like him to have boxed her out this way.”
A stiff fall breeze fights its way down the street, sending a strand of hair across my eyes, and I swipe it away with one hand. I should leave right this second and not be dragged into a back-and-forth with this kid, but I can’t resist the urge to set the record straight.
“Mark, I heard he had every intention of boxing her out, actually. And if you want to know why, you’ll have to ask her.”
“You’ve been speaking to my grandmother, haven’t you?”
“I can’t say, but you can trust that the information came from a valid source.”
He shakes his head, his lips pressed tight, as if I’ve clearly missed the point. “Well, it’s bullshit. My father would never have purposely humiliated my mother, no matter how furious he might have been.”
“Even if she’d humiliated him first?”
“No, he wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’tdorevenge.”
A couple walks past us, and I see them look discreetly in our direction, obviously noting the contentiousness in Mark’s tone. It’s time to extricate myself. Mark Whaley isn’t going to change my mind on the matter, and I’m certainly not going to change his.
“Again, I’m really sorry for your loss,” I say, “but according to your father’s lawyer, he knew exactly what he was doing, and I’m going to honor his wishes. Good night.”
I watch indignation begin to boil inside him and contort his features into an ugly pout. He looks like a spoiled little kid who’s just had his water gun taken away.
“Well,fuckyou then,” he says. “Fuck you to hell.”
He spins on his heel and strides off down Seventh Street, the tails of his blazer flapping with each stride he takes.
Shaken, I grab a breath and hurry back to my building. As soon as I cross the threshold of my apartment, Tuna runs toward me and snakes back and forth between my legs a few times. It’s comforting to feel her warm body against mine, but it’s not enough to keep Mark Whaley’sfuck youout of my head. He’s no better than Deacon, trying to take me down to size.
With my pulse still racing, I drop my tote bag on the couch and do a quick check around the apartment, making sure there are no other land mines waiting for me. Next, I feed Tuna and pop open a can Diet Coke from the fridge. As I chug down half the contents, leaning wearily against the counter in the kitchen, the face-off continues to play on a loop in my mind
I don’t doubt Mark Whaley’s grief, but I’m sure his plea tonight had more to do with his mother’s money grab—money that will go to him and his sister when Jane dies. She might have even sent him here, one more twist of the screw to add to the pressure she’s already exerting on me.
And though it’s hard to picture him picking my lock in that preppy sports jacket, he could be the one who slipped me the nasty note today.
As my heart rate finally normalizes again, my mind finds its way to a comment of Mark’s that didn’t snag much of my attention at the time.
He didn’t do revenge.
So Mark was never a witness to a vengeful streak in his father; it doesn’t mean C.J. lacked one, that he didn’t have a dormant nerve deep down, triggered when his wife stepped out on him with his friend.
