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Inwardly, I sighed. Outwardly, as I speared some macaroni and cheese with my fork, I said, “Go ahead.”
He looked around before speaking. “I’m not supposed to speak about these matters out in the open, but I wanted to give you a heads-up so you had time to…prepare.”
I ground my teeth, shooting him a look. “Harold, get on with it,” I snapped.
He nodded, looking down at his hands. “So you remember that long section of information that deals with the requirements you have to meet before you can officially oversee the estate?” he asked.
I nodded as I chewed. “What about it?”
“Well…” Harold blew out a breath, his almond-shaped brown eyes wide. “We finally got a chance to look at it. And man, it’s not good.”
I stopped eating immediately, turning to him with a frown. “You have to be more specific than that,” I said. “Talk, and quickly.”
“Basically, your mother—and, I’m assuming, your uncle—wrote in a marriage clause.” Harold fiddled with the end of his paisley-patterned tie, not quite meeting my eyes. “In order to fully take over the estate, the person overseeing it has to be married. While you are technically the next in line to oversee all that the Hemingway family owns, you’re not married, so you can’t really oversee anything.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. My mom was always on me about finding someone to settle down with. She refused to believe that all of her children couldn’t have what she and Dad had. This was especially true with me.When are you gonna realize that all of this means nothing without a partner?she would ask me. Which, to me, was ironic, since she spent much of my teenage years threatening me if I came home with a baby,andshe was the one who pushed me to be ambitious in the first place.
I shook my head, aware of my every movement and the eyes that were probably on me, keeping my irritation inside.Even after death, you couldn’t leave well enough alone,I thought.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I guess I have to get married then. Is there a specific time frame that she gave?”
Harold gulped. “Yep.”
I made the motion to go on.
“Three months from the date of her death.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. My throat closed as if I was being strangled. It took all I had to utter, “Threemonths?”
“Three months.”
I cursed under my breath, letting this one slip be my only outward sign of panic. “You’re sure?” I demanded.
“As sure as I can be, yeah.”
“Okay. Okay.” I let out a long exhale, trying to diffuse the panic threatening to overtake me. There was no way I would be ready to marry anyone in threeyears, let alone three months. I wasn’t even dating anyone seriously. “So what happens if Idon’tget married?”
Harold looked out into the crowd, brushing his hands over his head. “The estate comes under the care of the next oldest male head of the family who is married. In this case, it would be Zeke.”
At the mention of Zeke, I started to see red. Of course Zeke would be the next in line.
Ezekiel “Zeke” Hemingway, my Uncle Bob’s son, was a year younger than me, and my nemesis. Our family was small, with only Mom and Uncle Bob. Naturally, as their the two oldest children, we were constantly compared to each other. When we were kids, we competed at everything: sports, academics, picking up girls. As we got older and became interested in the same things, we competed at those, too. He also started his own business around the same time I started mine. We were always neck-and-neck, but I usually came out on top. It was mostly because of my own skill and likeability—Zeke was the worst kind of man—but it was also pure determination. I couldn’t let him win because anytime he got the upper hand, he was insufferable.
Also, he was a perpetual party boy that ultimately blew all his money and had no patience for gradual gains. As far as I knew, Uncle Bob had put a cap on the amount of money he could take from their side of the Hemingway estate. If he got a hold of the whole thing, there’s no telling what he would do and what financial future our family would have.
I couldn’t let him win this. He would ruin our family.
“Aight, well…thanks for the information, Harold.” I rubbed my eye. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
“No problem. Are you gonna be okay?”
I felt a muscle tick in my jaw. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Harold grimaced, standing up. “Guess not. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I put my plate on an empty chair and stood up, too, slapping hands with him. “Thanks, man. I appreciate the early heads-up, for real. We still on for our pickup game next week?”
“Of course.” Harold grinned, miming a jump shot. “You know I don’t miss.”
