by Kahlen Aymes
“Hello, son.” His voice was warm and welcoming as he indicated a one of the two chairs in front of his desk he wanted Caleb to sit in. “Take a seat.”
Caleb sat down, only nodding to the older man.
“There are a couple of things to go over, Caleb. Normally, the will would be sealed until the reading, but this isn’t a typical situation and your father asked me to go over it with you to make sure you are fully aware of the choice.”
Caleb’s elbows were resting on the arms of the leather occasional chair he was sitting in and he opened his hands, palms up. “You don’t need to. I get everything, or we split it. What’s to go over?”
“He just wanted to make sure you understood the five-year provision, and that I explained a couple of other things.”
Caleb felt impatient. It was warm in the office and he had the urge to loosen his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt. “You told me the other day. We can’t sell for five years. If we walk, we can’t give it to charity because of the implications to the stockholders. Both of us have to commit to the five years or we lose everything. Am I missing anything?”
“Not much. If you want to sell your shares after five years and donate the cash to charity, that’s the only way it can happen. The shares remain with the company, and it remains a viable entity.”
“Can I run it without Wren? I mean, if she doesn’t want to stop dancing right away?”
“That’s an option. What you work out between the two of you is up to you.” Jonathan shook his head in silent contemplation. He’d known Caleb would be willing to sacrifice his own plans for his design firm, take on all the work, and still give up half of the estate for Wren.
“That’s it, then.” Caleb’s clear blue eyes locked with Jonathan’s. “Do I have to sign anything?”
“Not until the reading. All of the beneficiaries have to sign.”
“Beneficiaries? You mean us, and Jonesy?”
“Your father left Jonesy a small sum of cash for her retirement, and he gave me one thousand shares in Lux.”
Caleb felt Jonathan and Jonesy deserved anything they received and more. “Good.”
“There’s one more thing, Caleb,” Jonathan said as he put one copy of the will back into an official looking envelope and sealed it. “Veronica does receive a small bequest.”
Caleb was in the process of standing and buttoning the front of his blazer. “What?” His tone had lowered and took on a slight seethe at the mere mention of Veronica’s name. “Why would Dad do that? Can we fight it?”
Jonathan shrugged. “It’s not worth it. I’ve seen cases where the ex-spouse will go to court and try to contest a will, citing that they were in the process of reconciling. This would have been difficult to disprove because your father was an extremely private man and he wasn’t seeing anyone else at the time of his death. Your absence also made that possibility likely. Veronica could rely on your estrangement with your father to keep any validity of your rebuttal in question.”
Anger was starting to boil inside Caleb. He could feel the heat creep under his skin, his pulse quicken and his muscles coil as adrenalin started to course through his veins. He’d have to get a workout in later that night if he wanted to keep his cool. “So he caved and gave her a piece of it all, is that what you’re telling me?”
Jonathan was smiling, which seemed to piss Caleb off even more.
“No. He gave her one hundred dollars.”
Caleb paused, intrigued and beginning to understand the other man’s amusement and his anger cooled instantly. “That’s uh… funny.” He smiled; then chuckled softly.
“If Veronica gets anything at all, she can’t contest. If he stiffs her completely she may argue he was ill and overlooked her. If she’s given a specified amount, especially one this laughable, his intentions are crystal clear. We wrote this in with a no-contest clause. It’s for your protection, and Wren’s.”
“Will that hag be here for this? I’ll throw in another hundred if she’ll make herself scarce.”
The two men laughed out loud. “No, she’s not a principal beneficiary so she doesn’t have to be in attendance at the reading. I’ll notify her via registered mail next week.”
“Well that bitch can smell money from thousands of miles away. I just hope she doesn’t show up and harass us all. Especially Wren.”
THE PARKING LOT was almost full to capacity when Caleb and Macy arrived at the funeral home.
Local and national news media vans were lined up outside, and reporters and camera people were filming live reports. He held up his hand when one of them asked him for a statement, and kept on walking without a word.
“The national news media is covering my dad kicking off. Awesome,” Caleb muttered as they proceeded past them toward the doors.
“Lux Cosmetics is a global brand, Caleb. You had to expect press coverage of your father’s death,” Macy said simply.
She was right. Caleb was thankful that the actual funeral the following day would be closed to the public, with only a few very close friends and family in attendance.
When Caleb opened one of the double wooden doors so Macy could enter in front of him, the odor of the place smacked him square in the face. He remembered that same scent from the three other funerals he’d attended in his life. If the way Macy wrinkled her nose was any indication of her distaste, she found it equally offensive. She was clinging to his arm and had made two attempts to hold his hand, but he was feeling emotionally closed off.
His defensive demeanor might be due to the wake, but he gave more weight to the combination of events that happened over the past couple of days. Macy’s selfishness and her lack of compassion, the way his heart had literally leapt at the sight of Wren and having her close, and wanting her to remain that way, all added to his father’s death. Caleb felt disengaged with Macy in every way, and it was just another unpleasant situation he needed to deal with.
The sickening scent of the mortuary was lessened by the bevy of flowers in the entryway and the many wreaths and large arrangements strewn around the room; on the floor, and on stands of varying heights. They were obviously sent by business associates, board members, and vendors who his father dealt with at Lux.
The funeral director had called him the day before and asked him if he wanted a private viewing, and he’d declined. He found the whole business of dying sickening and humiliating. When he thought about what actually happened to his father’s body before it was laid out for people to leer at, he cringed. And really, what was the point to any of it?
Ugh.
The wake would require hours of time; going through the motions of shaking hands and making inane small talk with people he didn’t know or didn’t remember, along with meeting people he didn’t give a shit about.
The sympathetic glances in his direction said most were aware he was Edison Luxon’s son. As he made his way through the room with Macy at his side, he wished he could skip the whole goddamned thing. Several people stopped him, patted him on the back, or shook his hand; many murmuring those meaningless comments people make after someone close to you dies.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Caleb. Who’s this pretty girl?”
“I loved working for Mr. Luxon. He was a great boss and will be missed.”
“If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
They were stopped multiple times by people anxious to offer their condolences, and he could sense Macy getting more and more pissed each time he introduced her as his friend. To give her credit, she pasted a stiff smile on her face and did her best to hide her ire.
His father’s casket was partially hidden from Caleb’s view by the line of people filing past it. It was located at the front of the room, with more and more flowers strewn around it, on the floor in front, and a large spray of white roses covering the lower half of the polished wood surface. The quilted white fabric on the inside of the lid was visible, but he only caught glimpse of his father’s body as people filed by. His stomach lurched
at the thought his father was actually inside. This was going to suck. He tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt under the silk tie, wishing he could just take the damn thing off.
The sedan that had brought Wren and Jonesy had been parked out front, indicating they were already inside. Jonathan had followed Caleb and Macy from his office in his own car. Caleb’s eyes scanned the room for Wren, looking for long blonde curls, still distracted when the funeral director approached.
“Hello, Mr. Luxon. I’m Alfred Baines.” A hand was offered and Caleb shook it without thinking.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You’ll find a small room off to the side at the front for you and your family. It offers more privacy and you should be more comfortable in there.” He handed them each a piece of folded white stationery with his father’s picture and obituary on it. Caleb shoved it into the breast pocket of his suit without reading it.
“Thank you, Mr. Baines.”
Caleb put a hand on Macy’s arm to stop her briefly. “I’m going to go up and pay my respects. Why don’t you go into the room Mr. Baines mentioned?”
Macy studied him for a brief moment. “Are you okay? I can come with you.”
He shook his head in denial. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel and the last thing that Caleb wanted was to be seen showing any weakness. “No. I want to do this alone. I’ll see you in a minute.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and bypassed the line.
Those in front of him made way for him to take a moment alone beside the casket. Caleb stood and gazed down at his father for an obligatory moment. He felt sick, seeing his father cold and lifeless inside the expensive cherry wood casket. Edison’s hair was still the same impeccable style he’d always worn, though with more grey than the last time Caleb had seen him, but he looked more peaceful than ever before.
Feeling morose, Caleb sighed; his lungs protesting at the tightness in his chest as he contemplated on the man he’d barely spent a week with since he’d graduated from MIT four years before. Guilt over his contribution to the estrangement of their relationship nagged at him. Maybe if he’d opened a few of those goddamned letters things could have been different, but a mountain of regret was useless now. It changed nothing.
He felt a warm presence beside him and Caleb knew without looking that it was Wren. The familiar scent of her perfume lingered softly in the air around him. Unlike Macy, he welcomed her nearness. She slid an arm through his, her fingers curling around his bicep, as she rested her forehead on his arm just below his shoulder.
Despite wearing the new high heels Caleb had purchased for her earlier at the mall, he still towered over her. His uneasiness settled in the same way it always did when she was near. His hand lifted to cover hers in silent connection.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He nodded, still gazing down at his dad. “Yeah. You know, this is the first time I’ve been in the same room with him when he wasn’t riding my ass for one reason or another,” he said with a wry quirk of his lips. “I wish—” He stopped abruptly.
“I know, Cale.” She squeezed his arm where she still held it. “Edison wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up.” Her tone was soft and pained. She desperately wanted to take away the ache she heard in his voice. Caleb was strong, and most people wouldn’t pick up on it, but Wren did. “He knew he was the one at fault.”
“It was easier when I hated the son-of-a-bitch.” Caleb blinked at the sting in his eyes.
“Maybe, but that’s not the life you deserve; to hate him or punish yourself forever. He wouldn’t want that. ”
Caleb slid an arm around the back of Wren’s waist and moved to turn her away from the casket. “Come on. I don’t want to talk about it now.”
More people were coming in; the line was forming up the center aisle now, ushered by the funeral home staff. The chairs sitting in multiple rows were filling fast.
Caleb caught site of Dex and his parents about halfway back and he nodded at his friend. The two had kept in contact over the years, but Caleb hadn’t been back to Denver to see him even once since the night they fought. It hadn’t been easy for Caleb to move beyond the night when Dex put the moves on Wren, but eventually they had talked it out over the phone. Dex would have been insane not to want her; she was so beautiful, and it was Caleb’s fault he’d never confessed his feelings concerning Wren to his best friend. He’d always held his emotions for her so close to himself out of guilt. How do you confess to being in love with a girl who you are supposed to protect and everyone else sees as your sister?
Dex looked quite a bit different; his hair was less edgy and he was wearing dress slacks and a button down. Growing up, Caleb had never seen Dex in anything other than jeans, T-shirts and leather jackets. His old friend rose and walked up, offering his hand to Caleb and then going in for a brotherly hug. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry about your dad.” He looked at Wren, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “How are you, Wren?”
She smiled softly and Caleb could see the admiration in Dex’s eyes. Some things never changed, and he didn’t expect them to.
“You look good, Dex. Different.”
Dex smiled. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way.
“Well, I couldn’t be a thug my whole life. My dad has me managing the shop and we’ve expanded. We have three locations, now. Have you started your design firm in San Francisco?”
Dex was a first class mechanic. They’d both learned a lot from Darren growing up, but Dex had gone to trade school and learned how to run his father’s business, while Caleb attended a top engineering university. It would have been the perfect combination for the two of them to go into business together, which had been their plan for years.
“Not yet. Might go on the back burner for awhile, now. I have to deal with Lux.”
“Are you still fighting?” Dex asked.
“On occasion. I beat the shit out of the bag at the gym on a more regular basis.” The two men laughed softly. Wren watched the interaction between the two of them, admiring them both. Both men were tall and fit, Caleb a bit taller with more of a classic beauty to his face. He had his mother’s model features, though he was casually unaware of how people stared at him. Wren had always been acutely aware of him.
Dex put his hand lightly on the small of Wren’s back. “Are you still with the touring company or back in New York for good?” he asked.
“Still touring, but we’re on a break for a few weeks.”
“I’d love to see you dance sometime.”
“She’s amazing. Stick around afterward and we’ll get a beer at the house. Jonesy’s been cooking for days. Bring your folks.”
“Sounds good. I remember Jonesy’s cooking.”
Caleb hit Dex’s bicep with his open palm. “It’s good to see you.”
It didn’t escape Caleb’s radar that Dex knew about Wren’s schedule, which meant they’d been in touch. After he’d beat the shit out of him all those years ago, he was a bit surprised Dex still kept track of her, and that he neglected to mention it on any of their phone calls. It was probably nothing, but he couldn’t deny that it still bothered him.
After Dex returned to his seat, Caleb and Wren found Macy, Jonathan, and Jonesy already waiting in the small room off to the side. The room was furnished with upholstered couches and chairs and was set up more like a living room. A few others, including his father’s personal assistant and some of the board members, were also there.
Jonathan made the necessary introductions to some of the senior members of Lux’s board of directors, and then they all took their seats.
Jonesy approached Caleb and put her arms around him. She hugged him, and he bent down to kiss her weathered cheek. “We’re here for you,” she said solemnly as she patted his cheek and pressed his mother’s bible and her pearl and gold rosary in his hand. He was touched that she’d remembered to bring them with her. The dark brown leather and white beads blurred as he looked down at them in his hand.
He swallowed at the tightness of his throat.
“I know. Thank you, Jonesy. This was nice of you to remember.”
“Of course, honey. Celine would want you to have them with you today.”
Given the turn his life had taken after his mother’s death, Caleb wasn’t all that religious, but she had been and the sentimental gesture touched him deeply. He held her rosary and her bible on his left knee after he sat down.
Caleb’s right hand reached for Wren’s as she sat beside him. He was unaware that he’d barely let go of her once since she’d joined him beside his father’s casket. However, Macy was extremely aware, and sat in stiff silence to his left.
The reciting of the rosary seemed long; the same few prayers being recited over and over again felt monotonous and unnecessary to Caleb. The words to all but a couple of the prayers escaped him, even though he’d had them all memorized as a young child.
Sitting there, his mind was preoccupied. His father was the type to get down to business and dispense with anything frivolous, and he would consider this bevy of crying and praying unnecessary. Edison wouldn’t have wanted a full-blown funeral. Caleb realized the formality was mostly for the press and the board of directors, who were no doubt taking advantage of any free publicity for the advancement of the company.
Caleb glanced past Wren at Jonesy who was sitting on the other side of her. She was staring straight ahead, and was struggling to hold it together as she dabbed at her eyes with a fine linen handkerchief. Caleb’s chest expanded as he pulled in a breath. Obviously, Jonesy cared more about Edison than she let on. Caleb was thankful she’d been the one to arrange the funeral. The style of the service was likely what his mother would have also wanted, had she been alive to arrange it.
The scripture readings were delivered, and the hymns sung by people he was unfamiliar with. Jonathan would say the eulogy the following day at the funeral, then his father would be buried, the will would be read, and life would resume.
His father was dead and he couldn’t change it no matter how badly he wanted to. He’d been robbed of his mother by cancer, and only now, after his father was gone, did he have any indication that Edison had actually cared about him. It was ironic how fucking cruel life could be, but there was something about the finality of death that demanded acceptance.