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Last we spoke, he was furious that I didn’t involve him in my decision making with the manor and demanded I come home as soon as I forfeited my portion of the inheritance.
At the time, I agreed, but that’d been days ago, before I discovered pieces of our mom here, gradually started learning about the manor, and having my mind and body temporarily possessed by one hell of a woman.
Now I’ve got questions, and I’m not as quick to pull that trigger.
“Not yet,” I answer, but I hesitate to tell him what’s on my mind when he’s made his stance on this situation blatantly clear. “The will executor should be here any minute.”
“Good,” he clips. “Anything else?”
I hold up a picture of Mom in the paper, standing next to her eighth-grade science fair project. Her teeth are crooked and too big for her mouth, but she’s smiling wide, happy as can be with her first-place ribbon.
In the photo, I notice she’s wearing a pendant with the same tree emblem from the notepad I found, and it only raises more questions.
“I don’t understand why they never mentioned this place. Don’t you find that odd?”
“No, I don’t.” His tone is cut with that ‘no bullshit’ edge of his.
I sigh. “There’s a lot of history here, Archer. We have an entire lineage we know nothing about. There’s no telling what else we might find.”
“Don’t you think that’s why Mom never spoke about any of this? That she kept it hidden because she didn’t want us to know about it?”
Of course I’ve thought about that, easily a hundred times over, but there’s this gnawing pit in my chest that refuses to close. I know I have responsibilities back in Seattle; I know I shouldn’t want to know more about this family, especially if what Molly mentioned about Thomas is true, but for some reason, I do.
A secret part of me has yearned for the kind of happiness my parents shared with adoring children, and a large, close-knit family. But after losing them, those aspirations faded in the shadows of our expanding business, and I worry about the impact it’s had, not only on me but on all of us.
What if… God, it’s fucking insane to think, but this estate could be the perfect place to start over. A place to recreate that sense of family we’ve been missing for so long.
“It feels wrong to hand all this over when it’s rightfully ours.”
“We’re the ones who’ve taken care of our family all these years, not him.” The tension in his tone thickens. “We didn’t need shit from Thomas Radley then, and we certainly don’t need to take on his burdens now. Sign the fucking papers and get your ass back home. I mean it, Row.”
I stare at the illuminated screen when he cuts the call. “Fuck.”
He’s right. Thomas could have reached out to his orphaned grandsons at any point, yet he never had. I don’t owe this man any favors, but I can’t help wondering what Mom would’ve wanted.
A light tap sounds from the doorway as the butler fills the frame. “Mr. Kendrick, I’ve brought you some tea while you wait for the others to arrive.”
He dutifully carries the tray across the room and places it on the coffee table between the two leather couches. I watch a stream of piping hot water fill the teacup before he dunks a tea bag in the center.
I awkwardly take the tiny cup from his hands. “I’ve never had tea like this before.”
He smiles warmly. “I find I like it better than coffee. It doesn’t give me the shakes, and there are plenty of delicious flavors to try.”
I watch the loose tea dance inside the bag while the water shifts from clear to a translucent brown. “Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“If you were in my position, with a responsibility like this falling into your lap… Would you accept it, even though the man giving it to you could’ve helped your family, but chose not to?”
Mr. Thorne thinks for a quiet moment.
“Life will test you, Mr. Kendrick,” he says, “and the choices you make will reveal your true character. Your inheritance is no small burden, but it’s not the responsibility itself that defines you. It’s your values, principles, and what you have yet to achieve.”
He pauses, studying the swirling patterns on the rim of my cup as if seeking guidance from the design itself. “In matters of family, emotions often cloud our judgment. I believe we must be careful not to let resentment or bitterness dictate our decisions.”
I blink at the older man. “That was extremely profound, Mr. Thorne. Thank you.”
He gives a curt bow. “Please, call me Reginald.”
