"Just got off a plane," he said.
Gabe gave him a half-smile. "You’re always getting off a plane, Luke. What can I buy you?"
"I'm buying," Knox interrupted. "And we're not drinking beer tonight." He pulled a bottle out of the glass case behind the bar. "In Dad's honor, we have Bushmills 21 single malt, his favorite."
"Very appropriate," Gabe said, as Knox poured the whiskey into three glasses.
"Who wants to make a toast?" Knox asked.
"You go, Luke," Gabe said.
He swirled the whiskey in his glass as he looked down at the amber liquid. "I can't think of anything I want to say." He paused. "Last time I had this whiskey was on my twenty-first birthday."
"With Dad?" Gabe asked. "He bought me a drink on my twenty-first birthday, too."
He shook his head. "It was supposed to be with Dad. He had invited me to dinner, but business came up. I was already in the restaurant bar waiting for him when I got a call from his assistant that he was sorry but he couldn't make it. I was about to leave when the bartender said my father had told him to buy me a drink—this drink. I had another four after that. I don't remember the rest of the night." He took a swig of the whiskey. It was damn good. Of course, his father wouldn't drink anything but the best.
He set the glass down, realizing his brothers were looking at him with varying degrees of concern.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to cry," he said dryly. "I'm just exhausted."
"And pissed," Knox commented.
He couldn't argue with that. But he was saved from making further explanations by the arrival of another Brannigan brother, his oldest sibling, James. Like Gabe, James wore dark slacks and a dress shirt and looked like he'd just come from signing one of his many business deals. If anyone could compete with his father, it was James.
"Let's move this conversation to a table," Knox said, motioning the group toward the back of the bar. "I'll get Eban to fill in for me."
Luke settled in at the table with his back against the wall as James, Gabe, and Knox filled the other chairs. Knox set down the bottle of whiskey and started to pour James a glass, but his oldest brother held up his hand.
"None for me," James said.
"Seriously?" Knox asked, raising an eyebrow. "We're toasting to Dad."
"I have work to do later."
"It's one drink," Knox complained.
James shrugged. "It's rarely one drink where you guys are concerned."
"Don't throw me under the bus with these two," Gabe complained.
Luke smiled. He rarely missed home, but he did miss his brothers. He pushed his empty glass across the table. "I'm happy to be on the bus. I'll take another shot."
Knox grinned back at him and poured him some more whiskey. "Dad liked being on the bus, too. He enjoyed his whiskey. One of the few things we had in common."
"I'll drink to that," he said, clinking glasses with Knox. "But what I can't drink to is the fact that Dad kept us all in the dark about his illness and that he's still calling the shots on exactly how we should mourn him. He'd probably hate that we were here together talking about him."
"That's not true, Luke," James said. "Dad would appreciate us getting together. He wanted to protect us from the sadness of his death and the burden of a funeral, but I think he'd like us talking about him. That's why I got on a plane and flew across country to join you."
"So New York is really your home now?" he asked. "I guess you and your expensive suits fit right in there."
"They do, yes," James said. "Speaking of expensive suits and expensive toys…" He turned his attention to Gabe. "Tell me that is not your Aston Martin in the parking lot."
Gabe grinned. "It's all mine."
"I can't believe you spent so much cash on a car," James said.
"It was a gift from a client."
"What exactly do you do for your clients?" Knox joked.
"I make them happy and sometimes they pay me back."
"So you drove down from Silicon Valley?" Luke asked, remembering an email he'd gotten a while back about Gabe moving his operations from LA to Northern California.
"I did. It was a good drive. Gave me a chance to clear my head."
Luke was happy for Gabe, but his head felt anything but clear. "Getting back to Dad. It doesn't bother any of you that he didn't tell us he was sick? Or maybe he told you, James? You were the closest to him."
"He didn't tell me anything," James replied. "I spoke to him several times in the past month. Only once did he sound tense. When I asked him about it, he said he’d spent the day on his boat, and he was just tired. If he had told me, I would have been with him."
"Well, I'm not surprised that Dad kept his silence," Gabe put in. "Our father always did exactly what he wanted to do. He died the same way. Is it really that shocking?"
Luke glanced at Knox, who hadn't had much to say on the subject. "What do you think?"
Knox shrugged. "The old man has been a mystery to me for most of my life. But it doesn't matter. We can't change anything. It is what it is."
"That’s true. Who else is coming tonight? Where's Max?" he asked.
"Who knows?" Knox replied. "He claims he's working in something called protective services, but I'm sure it's black ops, and he's probably in the Middle East."
He nodded. Max had been a Navy SEAL, and what he'd been doing since getting out of the service seemed open for interpretation. With Finn on a carrier, that left Hunter.
"What about Hunter?" He directed his question to Gabe. Hunter and Gabe were twins and had always been their own close unit in a sea of Brannigan brothers.
"I texted him last night," Gabe replied. "He's also out of the country; he doesn't know when he'll be back."
"We need to find a time when we can all get together," James said. "No official memorial service, but all seven of us in one room would be good."
"Good luck with that," Luke said. "I can't remember the last time that happened." As he finished speaking, his aunt came over to the table.
Claire was his mother's younger sister. She'd always been a bohemian and a free spirit. She'd been married twice, with a daughter from each marriage. She was now single and spent most of her days painting and managing a small art gallery in Venice Beach.
Today she was dressed in a flowing, gauzy dress, with an abundance of silver bangles, a couple of rings and big hoop earrings. She had dark-brown hair and brown eyes that almost always held a sparkle, but today that sparkle had dimmed.
"Well, well, if this isn't a handsome group," she said.
James got up and offered her his chair, then pulled over one from a nearby table. "Have a seat, Aunt Claire."
"Thanks, honey," she said. "It's so nice to see all of you. Laurel and Hannah wanted to come, but I thought you might need this night to be by yourselves."
"How are Laurel and Hannah doing?" Luke asked. He was interested in his cousins, but he was even more interested in postponing whatever Claire had come to the bar to tell them.
"They're well. Laurel is playing her violin with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and Hannah is waiting tables at the Beachside Bistro while going to culinary school at night." She paused. "Are we waiting for anyone else?"
"It's just us," Knox said.
"Well, I'm glad at least some of you could come. I'll get right to it. As I told all of you, your father had very specific wishes about the way he wanted to die and about the distribution of his estate, which, as you know, is quite large." She paused. "There are a lot of details that you'll be hearing more about from your father's lawyer, but I guess the main thing you need to know is that the bulk of the estate will be distributed in five years."
"Five years?" James asked with a frown. "Why so long?"
"Your father told me that he was proud of how you were all your own men, and he wanted that to continue for a while longer."
"That's ridiculous," James said tersely. "He didn't think he could trust us with his money? We've each been our own men for more than a decade."
&n
bsp; Claire gave James a compassionate smile. "I know that; I'm just telling you the facts. Your father's attorney, as well as several other trustees, will manage the financials over the next five years. They'll be reporting to all of you on a quarterly basis. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and heaven knows your father amassed a great deal of money, property, and other assets over his lifetime. But in the meantime, your dad left each of you a personal legacy. And before you ask me what it is, I can say quite frankly that I don't know. He said he was giving you each something that he thought would bring value to your lives. He gave me an envelope with each of your names on it. I don't know what's inside." She opened her large handbag and handed envelopes to Knox, James, and Luke.
"What about Gabe?" Luke asked.
Claire met Gabe's gaze across the table, then looked at Luke. "I already gave Gabe his legacy. We met earlier today."
"Why is that?" Luke asked curiously.
For the first time all night, Gabe looked uneasy. He sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "We met earlier because I wasn't sure I could make this meeting. But it turned out I could."
"What did you get from Dad?" Luke asked.
"The ranch in Calabasas," Gabe replied.
"Dad gave you the family ranch?" Knox asked, surprise in his voice.
"Yes, but there are strings attached. We are talking about Dad, after all," Gabe said.
"What strings?" James asked.
"Yeah, what strings?" Luke put in.
"I don't want to talk about it right now," Gabe said. "Let's see what the rest of you got."
"What do you mean you don't want to talk about it?" James asked. "You inherit the family home, and you don't want to discuss it?"
"Look, I didn't ask for it," Gabe said. "And it wasn't the generous gift you think it is."
"Don't be so cryptic," Luke said. "Spit it out."
"Another time," Gabe said tersely. "Why don't the rest of you open your envelopes? James, you should start."
James opened his envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. "It's a deed," he said, his gaze narrowing as he read the words on the page.
"To what?" Luke asked impatiently.
"The Villa Pietro Winery on the Amalfi Coast of Italy," James murmured. "What the hell is this?"
"Dad owned a winery?" Knox asked.
"First I heard about it," James said.
Luke shook his head at Knox's enquiring look and glanced at Gabe, who also seemed baffled.
"I can't believe he left you a winery," Knox told James. "I'm the one in the bar business."
"I would hardly call bartending being in the business," James said sharply.
"And I wouldn't call giving a winery to someone who doesn't appreciate a good wine a very smart business decision," Knox retorted.
The ring of James's phone interrupted their conversation. James read a text, then said, "I have to go. I need to take care of some business."
"You're leaving now?" Luke asked. "You don't want to know what Knox and I got?"
"You can tell me later. Sorry, I have to take care of something." James got to his feet and looked at Luke. "Are you staying in town? Can we meet tomorrow?"
"No idea," he muttered. "I need to get some sleep at some point."
"Well, keep in touch."
"Sure thing."
"I'm going to leave, too," Claire said, standing up. "I'm around if any of you want to talk." She paused. "Your dad told me that he remembered how difficult it was on all of you when your mom died. He felt so helpless to comfort you. Those days after the accident when your mom lingered in the hospital caught between life and death were the hardest days of his life." Her eyes blurred with tears. "He didn't want you to have to go through that again with him. He didn't want any good-byes. He wanted you to remember him as he lived, the times you shared together. I know it's hard to understand it, but what he did—he did out of love." She gave them a sad smile. "I'm always going to be here for you boys. You know that, I hope. I love you as if you were my own. So don't be strangers, okay?"
"Okay," Luke said, getting up to give her a hug. His brothers followed.
After his aunt and James left, it was just the three of them.
"Well," Gabe said, giving them both an expectant look. "What did you guys get from Dad?"
"You go first," he said to Knox, wanting to postpone his legacy as long as possible.
Knox opened up his envelope and pulled out a key. "What does this go to?" He frowned as he turned the key over in his hand. Then he looked back into the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. "This is an address. Maybe it's a key to a storage locker. I guess I'm not going to find out what I have tonight." He tipped his head to Luke. "Your turn."
He slid his finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. It was also a property deed. It took him a moment to realize what it was. "The Algoma Resort in Yosemite Valley," he muttered. "He gave me the mountain lodge where he and Mom met. This is crazy. Why would he think I would want a resort?"
"I don't think these legacies are about anything we want but what Dad thinks we need," Gabe said.
"Well, I don't need a lodge," he said firmly. The last thing he wanted was roots. But then, his dad had never understood him in life; why should death be any different?
He slipped the deed back into the envelope and pushed his empty glass across the table. "I'll take another drink."
Two
Luke battled jet lag and a killer hangover on his drive to the Algoma Resort just outside of Yosemite National Park on Wednesday morning. He could have waited a few days or weeks or even months to check out his legacy, but during a long night of tossing and turning, he'd decided that getting out of town was just what he needed.
It had felt strange to be in Los Angeles, the city where his father had truly been a king among men, knowing that he was gone. The press was just catching wind of his dad's death, and in the days to come there would be paparazzi everywhere. Colin Brannigan had been a very wealthy man, with a long list of businesses and properties including a movie studio, a talent agency, a hotel and a dozen other homes around the world. It would probably take five years for the lawyers just to figure out how to disperse everything.
He wasn't that pissed off about having to wait for the estate to be settled. He'd never wanted his dad's money. He'd always wanted to make it on his own. Not that some extra cash wouldn't help finance a bigger budget for his next film, but he'd get there with or without his dad's help. In fact, he might get there faster if he sold the resort, which seemed like the obvious thing to do.
He didn't know why his dad had given it to him. He wasn't a landowner or a property manager; he was an adventurer. He lived his life out of a backpack and a duffel bag. He traveled light; he didn't know any other way to do it.
Turning up the radio, he tried to drown out his thoughts with some classic rock. He wished he had another trip to make, but the base jumping in Norway had been the last piece of his film. Now it was on to editing and production, then distribution and release, and most of that work would take place in LA. The next project was only in the planning stages, so if there was a good time to make this trip, it was probably now.
He actually loved Yosemite, with its majestic mountain peaks, lush forested valley, and spectacular waterfalls. Algoma was a Native American word that meant Valley of Flowers, and as he got closer to his destination, those flowers bloomed in abundance.
Everything about this part of California was spectacular. Yosemite National Park covered the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range and offered some of the ultimate experiences in rock and mountain climbing.
He'd climbed the sheer rock cliffs of El Capitan and Half Dome before his twenty-fifth birthday. But he hadn't stayed at the Algoma Resort on those trips. He'd either slept in a tent tied to the side of the cliff face or in a cabin in the valley. The last time he'd been to the resort he'd been seven years old. It was the last family trip they'd made five months before hi
s mom died. They'd never gone back after that.
The family had splintered apart without his mother's steadying influence. His dad had hired nannies by the dozen to watch him and his six brothers, but while his father had provided for all their material needs, he hadn't been around much. His dad had once told him that he'd been so caught up in his own grief that he hadn't known what to do, hadn't understood how to be a father without his wife at his side, but that he'd done his best.
His best hadn't been all that good.
But it was what it was. As Gabe had said, his dad always lived life on his terms. Colin Brannigan was the sun, and everyone else moved around him.
Luke was going to miss that sun, even though he hadn't been warmed by it all that often. He grabbed for the coffee he'd picked up twenty minutes earlier. It was starting to chill, but it still gave him the caffeine jolt he needed.
As he sipped his coffee, he wondered about the legacies his brothers had received. He was surprised Gabe had gotten the family home—not that Gabe seemed that happy about it—and Luke was really curious about the strings his father had added to that legacy, but Gabe would only talk when he wanted to talk. Since Gabe worked in real-estate, perhaps it made sense. Although he would have thought James would have been a better choice. As the oldest sibling, James seemed the one most likely to carry on the family traditions.
He smiled to himself at that thought. What family traditions? The only tradition they had was every man for himself. Not exactly a bonding family mantra.
And James hadn't gotten anything tied to the family. He'd received a deed to a winery in Italy—a winery none of them had ever heard of. Apparently, their father had had more than one secret.
He was also curious about what Knox's key opened. He'd left before Knox had had a chance to go down to the storage unit. Maybe it was a car or a boat. Luke wouldn't have minded getting the speedboat or the Porsche, but apparently his love of the outdoors had gotten him a mountain resort. He didn't even know his father had bought the place. When had that happened? And why had his father bought a place he had no intention of ever going to again?
Was it out of nostalgia? Sentiment? It certainly didn't seem like the best business proposition. On the other hand, his father hadn't amassed a fortune by buying things for sentimental reasons, so maybe he had had a different motive.
Luke (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 1) Page 2