“Henry, calm the fuck down,” I warn him in a low voice. “Pierce, can you find the loophole?”
He shrugs.
The lawyer says, “Other than contesting and seeing if you can win, there's nothing else that you can do. You have thirty days from tomorrow to get your affairs in order and move into the property.”
“Can they buy out William’s assets?” Blaire asks.
“No. Only the approved buyers can do it. In fact, the prices he set are below market value. The charities, who are getting the profits, won’t get much once everything is said and done.”
He’s not giving us any options, is he? He’s still fucking with my life, even from the grave.
Eight
Blaire
If anything has become clear to me, it’s that nothing can be planned. We live trying to understand why in the world we’re here.
While growing up, I always changed what I wanted to become: an astronaut, a teacher, a singer, a zoologist. I was thirteen when I was diagnosed with leukemia, when my future became uncertain. In the blink of an eye, my life changed drastically. It went from swim meets at five in the morning, followed by six hours of school and ending the day with lacrosse practice to not being allowed to leave my house and my mom becoming, not only my teacher, but my only companion.
Not even my brothers were allowed near me in case they carried any germs or viruses that could get me sick. Some days were better than others. I became tired of needles, treatments, and isolation. My parents tried everything to fight for and with me after the first doctor said that there’s only a forty percent chance I would beat it.
I was fifteen and in the middle of chemotherapy treatment when I decided to go into the healthcare sector—if I survived cancer. It was the doctors and the nurses who, unlike my parents, stayed with me during those treatments and made me realize that they do not just cure you, but they give you emotional support too. They matter in so many different ways.
During those days, I learned from books but also from the people who surrounded me. I found faith and started to trust in fate. I knew that miracles existed and that magic was all around us. It became clear that we should believe in science, but it wouldn’t do us much good if we didn’t have hope. I confess that, during those days, I lost my optimism one too many times, but I held onto my favorite moments. Those reminded me that it was worth it to keep fighting. That if I endure the treatments, maybe I’d get to collect more happy memories and live a long life.
The nurses’ station had frames with several profound and uplifting quotes, and two resonated with me: “There wouldn’t be stars without darkness,” and “There’s a sunrise after every sunset.” I held onto those words, and they kept me fighting. I even graduated high school early and convinced my parents that I was ready to go to college.
My freshman year of college, I was still undecided about my future, but I had a goal: to become the best health provider I could be. After talking with several doctors and nurses, I decided to go into nursing. Those four years would help me decide if I would become a nurse or study for another eight to ten in order to become a doctor.
Hayes and I began dating only a few weeks after I started my freshman year. He always wanted to be a doctor, and his enthusiasm convinced me to follow his path. Together, we made plans. They included specializing in pediatrics, setting up our own practice, and getting married. Everything started to crumble, though, when he got accepted to Johns Hopkins—I didn’t know it at the time, but when he left for medical school, he said goodbye, forever.
During our senior year of college, Carter was diagnosed with stage four melanoma—most of his organs were already affected when they found it. His death was yet another turning point in my life. I had come to terms with my mortality during high school. When he died, I came to terms with the rest of my life, however long that might be. I had no idea if the leukemia would ever come back, or if I’d live to be a hundred years.
After I said goodbye to him, I finished nursing school and became a physician's assistant while taking some business classes online. Once I was ready, I started a non-profit, similar to Doctors Without Borders. Now, I cross off my life bucket list while traveling around the world to small towns, orphanages, and refuge shelters where I give basic medical attention to people in need. I love what I do. I wouldn’t trade my life for anything.
Honestly, I never thought I’d stop doing what I do. Until now.
When Carter was diagnosed, his mother and father dragged him from one doctor to another trying to find a cure. Every doctor they visited gave them the same prognosis. Against Carter’s wishes, they started him on chemotherapy and radiation. It didn’t matter that the treatment wouldn’t give him more than a few months. Carter didn’t want to live his last days destroyed by the chemicals. William though, he was fighting against his wishes and wouldn’t listen to reason.
William struck me as a narcissistic man who liked to have everyone under his thumb. Everyone should do what he said, on his terms. His sons fought back and won most of the time. Apparently, this time there was nothing they can do.
If this was a chess game, he could be saying from hell, checkmate.
He won.
Whatever we do will transform our lives. We’ll be the ones who either destroy an entire town or who sacrifice their lives for others.
“When you say we have to live here, does that mean we can’t travel for business or pleasure?” I ask the lawyer, pulling out my small notepad and my pen.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ll be happy to move into Baker’s Creek if that’s what he wishes,” I expand, trying to find my own loophole. “But I have work to do, and I want to make sure that I can continue.”
I turn toward Pierce, who was in law school when I met him. “Could you contest the will, or do you know anyone who could at least help us modify it?”
He nods in response, giving me a thoughtful look.
Yes, buddy, I'm not the enemy.
“Are there any stipulations about traveling outside the town or the state of Oregon?” I continue poking around, trying to make this work at least for me.
“You have to change your residence,” the lawyer answers. “Your ID should state that you live not only in Baker’s Creek, Oregon—but the Aldridge property.”
I pull my driver’s license and set it on the table. “This says I live in San Francisco, California. I spend three weeks of the year at this address. The rest, I spend it working around the world. Can I do the same?”
“What do you do?” Hayes asks, his eyes studying me.
“It’s not important,” I answer, dismissing him. “I need to know if I can keep working or if I have to find people to do what I do? I assume it is the same for you guys.”
“I’m not fucking staying in this forsaken place,” Henry protests. “I own resorts all around the world. I have to check on them periodically.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m uprooting my son’s life because the fucker who donated his sperm went insane before he died,” Mills adds. “Can we overturn this and claim insanity?”
“Where is he?” I ask Mills.
“Who?” he responds confused.
“Your son,” I answer excitedly. “I want to meet him.”
“Strolling around town with Henry’s hot assistant,” he says, pulling out his phone and showing me a picture of a toddler with the same Aldridge green eyes and a smile that reminds me so much of Mills when he was young. “You can meet him later today.”
“It’s spelled clearly here,” Pierce says tapping at the papers. “We’re expected to live on his property and become residents of the state of Oregon and the town of Baker’s Creek. We’re free to work on our businesses remotely. However, the factory, the resort, and managing the properties is our first priority.”
“How about Aldridge Enterprises?” Henry asks.
Pierce laughs. “Fucking William. That too. We have thirty days to gather our things—my wife w
ill be happy about this.”
“You know,” he pauses, tapping his chin and staring at the ceiling. “This might work. Leyla will give me the divorce immediately. She hates small towns. I might be in.”
Pierce burst into a maniac laughter.
“What will happen to everything when we’re done?” Hayes asks, ignoring his brother’s sudden outburst.
“Focus on the present,” Henry orders.
“I’m a surgeon,” Hayes protests. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, perform surgery on the spreadsheets?”
I chuckle and then suggest, “You could ask the local doctor to hire you.” Then I close my mouth, regretting what I said, because I should be the one applying for the job.
“If either one of you two decides to practice medicine in town, it’s allowed, as it’s considered a service to the town,” the lawyer says, looking at Hayes and then at me. “You can’t travel to San Francisco to perform surgeries or check on your patients.”
“What about my job?” I ask the lawyer, who is aware of what I do for a living. “Too many people depend on me.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to find other ways to help.”
“If I organize a gala?” I ask him, wondering if I can try to arrange it myself, raising funds to hire doctors to help me with what I can’t do for the next year and a half.
“Sorry, Blaire, but you can only use the next thirty days to make an appearance. He restricted you a lot.” Pierce is the one who answers that question. “You’re not allowed to travel—not even short trips. Oregon is as far as you can go and only for the day. You don’t get thirty days after the first six months are over like the rest of us.”
He frowns as he reads, then takes his phone out, taps it and browses it. After a minute or so, he looks at me with a little more respect than he had a few seconds ago. “If you need money for the operation, tell me how much and I’ll just write a check.”
His sudden change surprises me, but I smirk, wondering if I can get a million dollars out of this act of generosity. “I might accept your money.”
“What about those thirty days?” Henry asks. “Do we have more than that to pack?”
“No. We all have to be here in thirty days,” Pierce explains. “After we spend six months living together, he’s allowing us to travel outside for thirty days. We can split them among the twelve months left at the time. Or take off all at once.”
“I can work with that,” I say, because, even if I can’t travel outside the country, I can go to San Francisco and help Tori.
Pierce looks at me and shakes his head. “You don’t get that time, Skittles. I’m sorry.”
My eyes trail down to Hayes’ hands, wanting to reach for them, asking him to hold me and promise me that we can find a solution. Maybe he can help me fund my foundation because, if I can’t go, I have to pay someone to do my job. Letting out a long breath, I simply continue listening to what everyone else says.
“How about Portland?” Hayes asks. “If I ask my clients to meet me there for surgeries?”
“I guess that’s something we have to handle on a case by case basis,” the lawyer responds.
“I’m a musician,” Beacon says. “We have tour dates set starting this September. I can’t cancel. That will destroy my career.”
“You’re Beacon,” I say reassuringly. “People will wait for you. Also, you can stream from here. Bring your band.”
“You can commute,” Pierce says. “It’s right here in the will. As long as you only do it twice a week and you’re back the same day, you can do live appearances. Fucking William Aldridge. He has to be laughing his ass off at us from hell. Mills, it says that your son could benefit in this environment, and it’d be good to be around his uncles and aunts.”
“Which aunts?” Mills asks confused.
We all stare at Pierce who responds with a frown, “Leyla and Blaire.” He exhales and closes his eyes briefly. “Let’s hope that Leyla doesn’t come.”
“What’s the plan?” Henry asks, running a hand through his hair.
“Let me see what I can do,” Pierce answers, taking a copy of the will. “I’ll take it home and have my team look into it.”
“Listen, he made this foolproof,” the lawyer explains. “You can hire the best attorney in the country, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing you can do to stop me from executing this next month—if you’re not here everything will be sold. You can either mobilize or waste your time. The decision is yours.”
I put my notebook and pen away in my purse and look at everyone before I speak. “Look, eighteen months isn’t a long time to be away from home.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re never home,” Hayes says, looking at me.
Easy?
There’s nothing easy about putting my life on hold to do this nonsense. My home is … the world. My kids need me. All of them. Years ago, before I started my new career, I would’ve never guessed that the world would become my home, or I’d have a family as big as the one I have now. Project after project, I arrive at a place where I can help, where I can give, not only medical aid, but love, too.
“It’s eighteen months,” I answer. “Not sure what kind of medicine you practice, but I’m sure you can refer your patients to one of your colleagues for that period. Maybe you can use your father’s money to set up a hospital here and do surgeries.”
Then, I turn to the rest. “Yes, it’s hard to leave the comfy life you have, but you’re a bunch of privileged guys who can afford employees to cover for you. Think about the town. They’re depending on you.”
“Where are you going?” asks Hayes.
“To make some calls. I don’t have your resources, and my kids depend on me.”
“You have kids?” He asks confused and maybe even a bit sadly.
I could explain to him that the kids aren’t mine exactly, but there’s no point in expanding. This, having to share the same space with him for the next eighteen months, is going to be hell when I know he hates me and I … I still feel more than I should. It amazes me how my heart and body respond to him even after all this time.
“Keep me updated,” I say, to no one in particular and leave the room.
When I’m outside the conference room, I look at the ceiling and say, “No good deed goes unpunished, does it, Carter? I’m still paying for saying ‘yes’ to marrying you—asshole. ‘What could happen?’ you said. ‘It’s for a good cause,’ you continued. ‘It’ll be fine.’”
I walk outside The Lodge and yell up at the blue sky, “It’s not fucking fine!”
Nine
Hayes
“If you’ll excuse me,” the lawyer says, gathering his things, “I have a plane to catch this evening.”
“That’s it?” Mills asks. “Here are your father’s last wishes, deal with them, and you wash your hands of it and of us?”
“It’s not his fault,” Pierce defends Parrish. “When did they diagnose our father?”
The lawyer looks at him confused or maybe disgusted. He’s judging us, but clearly, he doesn’t have the complete story. “Maybe his assistant has that information. I’m not family or a friend of his.”
His tone sounds accusatory, and I don’t blame him for assuming that we’re a bunch of assholes who don’t give a shit about their father. Jerome Parrish doesn’t know our side of the story. Personally, I choose to keep it to myself.
My father can die being the martyr; I don’t fucking care. He barely cared for us, and we just stopped trying to get his attention and his love at some point in our lives. Mine was around high school. I don’t know about the rest of them though.
“Why does that matter?” I ask Pierce.
“He had cancer, right? Remember Carter’s hallucinations?”
“We already tried to use that excuse to stop Blaire from getting Carter’s trust fund. It didn’t work that well,” Henry says bitterly.
“He was in his right mind when he requested us to draft his will a few years back,” the lawyer s
ays. “He made a couple of adjustments three months ago, adding the potential buyers and the criteria they should follow to be eligible. Everything else has been in place for years. As I said, you can exhaust all your resources, but my firm has everything in place to sell in thirty days if you choose to ignore his last wish. We get paid the same rate either way.”
“Do you even care about what happens to the people in this town, Jerome?” Beacon asks.
“It’s not my job to care, but, because I do, I gave you two weeks to get together for this meeting,” he admits. “Off the record, your thirty days should’ve started when he died. That means that, as of today, you would have only around thirteen days to move into your new house. There are too many people depending on you, so I gave you extra time.”
“So, you waited for us?”
“On record, I stated that we had to wait for Blaire Wilson. She’s busy doing more for the world than the six of you combined.”
“Hey, I pull my weight to save the world, too,” Vance speaks up for the first time. He stands and looks around the room. “I’m not sure if I’ll stay. Let’s hope Pierce finds a loophole because being around you isn’t my idea of having a good time. In any case, Blaire gets to keep the money. You try to pull some shit on her, and we’ll have a problem. Understand?”
“Great. Another sucker who fell for her,” Henry sighs.
“Keep your trap shut.” Vance pins him down to his chair. “I can make you disappear, and believe me, brother, no one will miss you.”
He walks out of the conference room, and I follow him.
“Vance,” I call out, and he comes to a halt, turning around and glaring at me.
“Be careful of what you say or ask. I’m not in a good mood.”
I raise my hands in surrender. “Have you thought about anger management therapy?”
His nostrils flare. “The guy at the front desk needs to go,” he says.
“So, you’re staying?”
Loved You Once Page 7