Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“You okay, babe?” Laurie squeezes my shoulder.
She came with me, and I’m glad to have her here. We started seeing each other soon after I opened the haberdashery. It’s been nearly two years. If my father’s death hadn’t dominated my life the past few weeks, I’d be shopping for engagement rings.
I force a smile. “I’m fine. Just… It’s weird to be here, you know?”
She nods. “Of course. You had a complicated relationship, but he was still your father.”
“He was a decent dad, for the most part. He wasn’t going to win any awards, but he was there for me when it mattered.” I look down. “Until the moment I decided not to steer my life along the pathway he chose for me.”
“I bet he’d be proud of you. What you’ve made that little shop into.”
I scoff. “Unlikely. But it’s a nice thought.” I kiss her cheek. “Thanks for being here. It’s nice to have someone on my side.”
Indeed, I’m something of a pariah in the room. The cathedral is full of state senators and representatives, Chicago city councilmembers, several former mayors. Even a few members of Congress flew in. The governor of Illinois couldn’t make it, but his wife is here.
And all of them hated my father at the end. By proxy, they hate me.
A lot of them were in the room on my eighteenth birthday when I declared my decision to not attend Yale, not pursue my place in the Hathaway dynasty. I can still see them all shifting uneasily in their seats as I made my birthday speech, as my dad ripped me away from the podium.
None of them have greeted me with anything more than a curt handshake and a muttered “Sorry for your loss.”
The funeral proceeds. I zone in and out the entire time. The eulogy is delivered by Macy Hastings, the woman who served as mayor before my dad was elected. He unseated her, and their relationship was always frosty. She manages to speak for twenty solid minutes while not saying a single kind thing about my father.
Finally, the deacon utters the three words I crave to hear every time I’m in a church service.
“Go in peace.”
People stand and silently file out of the church. Dad was cremated, so there is no burial, and there won’t be a reception, either.
I’m glad I came. It was the right thing to do. But right now, all I want to do is go home, have a few drinks, and go to bed. Maybe fuck Laurie’s brains out. The sex we have together is something else. She brings out a wild side of my personality, a version of me that she christened “Mad Maddox.”
We’re about to leave when we’re waylaid by a man with huge black circles under his eyes wearing a black suit with a pink carnation on his lapel.
“Maddox Hathaway?” He stretches his arm out in front of him.
“That’s me.” I weakly shake his hand.
“My condolences, Maddox. My name is Jerry Dorman. I’m your father’s attorney.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Then you must have had your work cut out for you the last couple years.”
He doesn’t react. “I’ve been trying to call you, but I haven’t received a response.”
“Were you calling my old cell? I had to change numbers once my dad kicked me off the family plan. He wouldn’t have had my new number.”
He nods. “Must be it. Anyway, you’re invited to the reading of your father’s will.”
I furrow my brow. “He didn’t leave me anything. He wrote me out of the will when I refused to go into politics.”
“He left you something, or else you wouldn’t be invited.”
I rub at my forehead, sighing. “Fine. When’s the reading?”
“It commences in ten minutes. Since there isn’t a reception scheduled, we’re using the fellowship hall to do the reading.”
“Okay.” I look over at Laurie. “You okay to come to the reading?”
She nods. “Of course, babe.”
Ten minutes later, I’m seated in the cathedral’s fellowship hall, Laurie at my side. The only other people in here are a middle-aged woman in a black mourning gown and an old guy I recognize as Chuck Dodge, who served as Dad’s vice mayor during his three terms.
Mr. Dorman enters, clearing his throat as he walks to the front of the room. “Thank you all for being here. On behalf of the late Mr. Hathaway’s estate, I can tell you how pleased he would be to have you all in this room.”
You all? There are four people in here besides him.
Mr. Dorman reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a document. “The will is brief, so the reading will not take long.” He puts on a pair of reading glasses and recites, “I, Henry Hathaway, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament, revoking all former wills and codicils heretofore made by me.”