by Ali Vali
“Did he pay for the slow scenic route?”
“We’re talking millions, Willow, and he wanted to marry Monique free of his past. Think of him however you like, but he was my friend and he loved your sister. This wasn’t some affair that he was trying to throw money at to get rid of her and Grady. If you don’t believe me, take a look at her bank account. That one’s got a lot of zeroes in it too.” Jefferson was passionate in his defense, which wasn’t his usual corporate buttoned-up self. She’d been wrong about Jim Bob’s commitment to both her sister and nephew. And if she was wrong about that, then maybe her thoughts on Tucker were way off too. “Tell Monique I called and to take all the time she wants.”
He hung up before she could say anything else, and her phone rang again before she could call Jefferson back and apologize. “Hello.”
“Hey, Willow, it’s Jonathan again.” It was interesting that Mann had become so chummy so fast, and she hoped this wasn’t leading to something she’d have to knee him in the groin for. “We’re at the office brainstorming, and I need you here.”
“Okay.” She didn’t have any idea who we was, and she didn’t want to go and leave Monique, but she also couldn’t use the excuse that she had to stay because her sister’s married boyfriend had died. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She changed into casual but nicer clothes and told Monique where she was going. Monique never lifted her head or looked at her, and she didn’t have time to talk it out. Going to work while her sister was in so much pain made her an ass, but she also wasn’t Monique’s favorite person at the moment. Maybe some distance would help with the grieving process since it was way too late for her to take back or make amends for every crappy thing she’d said about Jim Bob. That was water down a muddy creek, and nothing was going to settle it.
The building was relatively quiet on the weekends except for the operators responsible for the platforms, but she still needed security to escort her to the top floor. There was plenty of laughter coming from Mann’s office as she approached, and she sighed when she saw only Mann and Big Earl. Both men gave her the creeps, but she smiled as she entered.
“Willow, thanks for getting here so fast.” Mann poured more liquor into Earl’s glass and pointed to a chair. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Jim Bob Delacroix dropped dead,” Earl said, a bit too gleefully to be respectful. “He probably got offed by that drunk wife of his, but however it happened, it’s good news for us.”
“How’s that?” She shook her head when Mann held up an empty glass, wondering if the booze was making him forget they’d just talked about Jim Bob’s passing. Jim Bob wasn’t her favorite person, but the guy deserved more than a celebration that they could ramrod a project through because he’d died.
“I talked to Bubba Delacroix, and he gave his consent for us to go ahead and start. He’ll be taking over his daddy’s position at the company, and he agreed for us to use our Texas facility.” Earl drained his glass and laughed. “That little tidbit is even better since we got a bigger number of foreign contractors available down in Corpus. This is like fucking Christmas.”
That translated into talented but very underpaid workers. “Has Tucker signed off on this?”
“Don’t fucking ruin my good mood, little lady.”
Willow loved her job, but Jesus on a crutch, the Neanderthals she had to deal with were hard to stomach. Guys like Big Earl ruled the industry, and in their opinion, women had no place in their little kingdom. “That’s not my intention at all, but from my understanding Tucker and Jim Bob were equal partners. Even if he’s gone, there’s no way Jim Bob’s son inherited more than fifty percent of the company. That means both of them would have to consent to go forward.”
“Yeah, but Bubba assured us he’s taking charge and he wants this,” Earl said, and Mann nodded. “It’s to honor his daddy, and we don’t want to fuck that up for him.”
“Then we have our plans in place and all we need is your okay,” Willow said. This was going to be a total shit storm disaster, and when it blew up, someone in this room was going to take the fall. Somehow she didn’t see either of these guys volunteering when Tucker showed up and removed someone’s spleen with her teeth.
“Great,” Mann said, putting his hands on his hips and accentuating his dad jeans. How this guy had climbed so high up the corporate ladder was puzzling, but those kinds of people populated upper management, which was why they ended up having disasters like BP had experienced. “I need you in Corpus by Monday. You need to make sure everything is in order and sign off on the work.”
“I’ll be happy to go, and you’ve already finalized our plans. Any work or changes will have to be signed off by you and Mr. Peters’s people. Perhaps Junior Peters could come along, and he can take care of that.” There was no way in hell she was approving anything, especially if the work was being done on Big Earl’s property. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll start packing.”
“I’m giving you the okay to sign whatever you need to get this done. Keep me posted, and we’ll set up a schedule so you’re not stuck there the entire time.”
She went down to her office to gather everything she’d need, and to leave a note for Margo. Before she left, she stared at her phone and hummed. Should she call Tucker and try to apologize again? The message Tucker’s assistant had passed to her with her last apology attempt told her Tucker wouldn’t come to the phone even under a court order or at gunpoint, especially now that her brother had died. But the other reason she had to call was that Tucker should know her nephew was about to totally sandbag her.
“I’ll wait until after the funeral and give it a shot.” Her next move was to break it to Monique that she was leaving at the worst possible moment.
“There are assholes, and then there’s me.”
Chapter Eight
Tucker lay across her bed without the energy to undress, her feet hanging off the edge. The meeting with the family at Jefferson’s office had left her with a headache that four Tylenol and lunch with her parents wasn’t touching. No one in Jim Bob’s family was happy with the new will, and the fact that the company was now hers was like a hydrogen bomb going off in the conference room, only she was the only one getting covered in the deadly fallout. Once the mushroom cloud of rage had cleared, they’d come close to having to call security.
That the life insurance policy would be divided equally among them but put in a trust hadn’t gone over well at all either. The theme after that revelation was that it was their money, and no one should tell them how to spend it. Considering the level of crazy had reached a dangerously high level, she could see why Jim Bob had written it that way.
The banging at the door made her open her eyes. She really didn’t want to move, but whoever it was obviously wasn’t going away. She sat up and glanced at the security monitor, wishing she had attack dogs she could let loose to make it stop. “Fuck me.” Bubba and Tara were digging in. She hit speed dial. “Jeff,” she said as she stood up, “get to my house and bring someone with you.”
“Like who?” Jefferson sounded as tired as she did. “You want me to call the police?”
“One of your partners maybe, or a bouncer if you have one available. The kids are here about to knock my door down, and it’s doing wonders for my headache.” She headed for the door and paused before opening it. “I’m aware that they’re not the brightest bulbs in the big marquee sign of life, but I’m not repeating myself until they put me in an early grave as a way around Jimbo’s wishes.”
“I’m on my way, and you only have until Monday morning and you’re done with these people. Once the funeral is done, the attorneys will handle all the rest. It’s not like they’re going to be poor, unless you change your mind. That’s how he wrote it, so you, as trustee, have a choice.”
“Just get over here. I’ve already got a headache.” She opened the front door and walked away to sit in her den. “What?”
> “You know this is wrong, that’s what,” Tara said, standing in front of her and screaming in a high-pitched tone that was making her and the dogs in the neighborhood crazed. “We’ve already lost our father and now we’re losing our birthright. What kind of shit is this?”
“Did you talk him into this?” Bubba asked. He stood shoulder to shoulder with his sister, his hands clenched in fists. “That company is ours, and you’re not fucking getting away with this shit.”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” She massaged her forehead and closed her eyes. So much for Jim Bob not leaving her with all his problems. These people were harder to shake than a woman with a U-Haul and an obsession. “What the hell do either of you know, much less care, about the business?”
“Did you forget I work there?” Bubba asked.
“I know you’re on our payroll, but I’m not familiar with any of your work. I’m more versed in your expense reports that have nothing whatsoever to do with the business,” she said to Bubba. “And you”—she pointed to Tara—“do you even know where the building is, much less what the shit it is we do?”
“Daddy didn’t want me there,” Tara said, starting to sound hysterical. “You can’t blame me for not wanting to work if he didn’t want me there. He loved me and wanted me to be free to be myself. I’ve been pursuing my passions.”
“Your father wrote this up over a year ago, and it was all his idea. The trusts were more recent, but only he knows why he did that. Maybe it’s so all of you can be free to be yourselves and pursue your passions.” This was ridiculous. The money wasn’t enough, obviously, and it angered her that the loss of Jim Bob had been lost in their greed. It was only what he’d left behind that was important.
“Are you mocking me?” Tara asked.
“I’m not sure what your passions are, so maybe.”
“He always told me I’d be taking over,” Bubba said.
“We talked too—every day, as a matter of fact, so maybe this has to do with how he was treated by you two and your mother. Combine that with how seriously you took your responsibility to something we worked hard to build up, and maybe we’ve answered the burning question of why he made his decision. Until recently, you and him were tight, but then you disappeared.”
“We have our reasons to be mad,” Tara said.
“Then be mad and spend the rest of your days counting what he left you as a way to get over it. Or you can refuse it and take me to court. Either way is fine as long as you get the hell out of my house.”
Bubba was about to respond when the front door opened. “Do you have questions?” Jefferson asked. “If you did, you had a chance earlier. I’m the one you have to contact, not Tucker. Your father dealt with me to set all this up, and your aunt is only carrying out his wishes.”
“We might ask all our questions in court, Jefferson.” Tara had attended LSU for two semesters but had never been able to pinpoint what she wanted to do, so her career choice had been freeloader, and LSU didn’t offer that degree path. That had never stopped her from thinking she was the smartest person in any room, which only proved that thinking had never been one of her strong suits.
“Tucker?” Jefferson said, and she nodded her consent. “We didn’t share all the paperwork with you today.”
“You’re going to pay for that.” Tara was on the attack, and from the tone of her voice, she’d just found an in. “I knew you two were full of shit today, and withholding information might cost you your half of the company, Tucker.”
Jefferson handed over two envelopes. “Your father expected this response, which made him go through the extra step of going before a judge to ratify his wishes. It was the first time I’ve ever done that, but he knew you better than I did. He even went through the extra step of being declared mentally competent by a mental health professional, so I’m at a loss as to what your argument is going to be.”
“What is all this?” Bubba asked. He didn’t make a move to open the envelope, and Tucker knew he wasn’t a fan of reading.
“It’s proof in triplicate of what Jim Bob wanted,” Jefferson said, handing over another thick envelope. “It also includes the rest of the information about the trusts. Those are up to Tucker’s discretion. If you’re going to be difficult and fight this in court, you’re not only going to fail to overturn the will, but you’ll lose your inheritance. Your father’s wishes were to give Tucker the discretion of keeping the money to use as she sees fit. That means if she wants to invest it all back into the company or get herself a shiny new boat, she can.”
“Is this legit?” Bubba asked.
“I didn’t think it was necessary to share these details with you. Losing Jim Bob should’ve been enough for all of us to deal with, and you’re getting enough money for your grandchildren’s grandchildren,” Tucker said softly. “Do what you need to, but I’m not going to let you destroy the family business. Take the money and go about your lives.”
“If we take you to court, will you keep the money?” Tara asked.
“Aren’t you supposedly in Mensa? Figure it out, but try to put it off until after the funeral. For the next forty-eight hours try to act like you gave a shit about your father, then start sprucing up your résumé. I’m not sure what jobs are out there that’ll pay you well for being your passionate self, but what the shit do I know.” She stood up and waved. “Jefferson, show them out, please. My head’s about to explode.”
“You’ll be hearing from our attorney,” Bubba said.
“You know my phone number,” she said, pointing to the door. She went to her bedroom and flopped facedown on the bed again, and the tension eased slightly when she heard the front door slam.
“Are you sick?” Jefferson asked when he came into the bedroom.
“Tell me there’s a way to not have to go through that every single day for the rest of my life. If the answer is no, I’m keeping the money and hiring a really good hit man.”
“We’ll push up the finalization of the succession. Once the insurance check comes through, everyone should be happy.” Jefferson sat on a small sofa her mom had put opposite the bed and put his feet on the coffee table. “The last couple of days have been brutal, which you know since we just witnessed the latest installment, but damn. How the hell did Jim Bob put up with this crap for so long?”
“I’m not sure, but if Ivy, Bubba, and Tara are my inheritance, I may run away and become a circus monkey.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Did he tell you what he wanted besides his rather explicit directions in my letter?”
“As in?”
“As in his actual funeral. The letter gave pretty good instructions, but he wasn’t specific on the details of any kind of service.”
Jefferson laughed and put his feet down. “I took care of the first part, but the finale is all you.”
“Don’t worry, I guess I’ll do the whole church service thing for my mother. As for what my crazy-ass brother wanted, I called our workshop down the bayou and two of our most trusted guys are taking care of everything. Do you want to come?”
Jefferson got up and stepped closer. “I wouldn’t miss it. Jim Bob has been much more to me than a friend and client. He’s the brother I never had, which makes us family. I’m here for you, Tucker, and I’ll help you navigate all this. If you want my advice as a friend, don’t tell Stella or anyone else what we’re doing.”
“Do I look crazy to you?” They laughed and she took his hand. “Thanks, Jeff. We both lost plenty, but we have plenty of good memories. That’s what the priest and a lot of people keep telling me.” She laughed, grief heavy on her shoulders. “But you know what?”
“What’s that?”
“Memories can fuck themselves. I’d rather have my brother back.”
* * *
On Monday morning the family waved a white flag and gathered at the funeral home an hour before they were due to head to the cathedral. The family were the only ones waiting, and the time had come to say their final good-byes. The caske
t would be closed for the visitation and funeral mass later.
Her parents wept as they knelt before the casket, and Tucker finally helped them to the front row of seats the owner of the funeral home had set up. Mark was an old friend of both hers and Jim Bob’s, and he’d just opened his own place after working for the oldest funeral home in the city for thirty years. Tucker trusted him to do what Jim Bob wanted once this was over.
“Oh my God, Tucker,” her mom said, and her dad put his arm around her. Their pain was even greater than hers, and that was hard to imagine since she was about to find a spot and crawl into the fetal position to get away from all this. No parent should ever bury their child, her father had said, and she truly felt for them.
Ivy and the kids cried over Jim Bob next, and it gave her a sense of finality. For all their problems, arguments, and shared insults, the truth of it was Jim Bob’s family loved him, and this was the end of their history. The guilt for all those problems and arguments, and for how they’d treated him, would be theirs to bear.
She stepped up last and placed her hand on Jim Bob’s chest. “Listen to me, big brother. You will most definitely be missed, and you’ll never be forgotten. Thank you for everything, and you rest easy. I won’t forget anything you taught me, and you don’t forget how much I love you.”
Mark came forward when she nodded, but she stopped him when she remembered the picture in her suit pocket. It was the same photo Willow had taken down that day she’d come over for lunch. Tucker placed it in the pocket of Jim Bob’s fishing shirt along with the lure he’d given her on her eighth birthday. The lure was one of her prized possessions, and she wanted it to go with him as a token of how much he meant to her.
“If you move outside, Tucker, we have the limos ready, and you all will follow us to the cathedral,” Mark said.
“Thanks for everything, my friend.”
“We’ll take good care of him—don’t worry.”