What We Had by Jay Beauman

Author:Jay Beauman [Beauman, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

A BLACK MERCEDES EQE with the license plate “CLARKE” sat in the driveway of the house. I pulled around it and parked in my usual spot, and groaned. There was only one person I could think of that owned that car. Someone I hadn’t seen or heard from in over a decade.

James Clarke, my father’s younger brother. As I climbed out of my car, I recalled what the family lawyer had informed me of, how James would conspire to snatch the house away from me after my mother passed. I could only imagine what the two spoke of now.

I stormed my way inside through the side entrance. Two and a half days had passed since I saw Bennett on our date down by the river. We spoke often—too often, some might say—but his physical absence made me itch and I could think of no better way to express that than by laying into Uncle James.

I navigated the hallways of the house and softened my steps as I took the corner to the primary suite. The doors were open and I heard stern voices. I paused to listen in before revealing my presence.

“… incompetent, Cordelia. Prue thinks she understands how probate court works but she’s never been as close to it as I have.” My uncle’s baritone sounded similar to mine. “We can avoid the trouble of—”

“There is nothing to avoid, James,” my mother interrupted, “because you are the one creating this so-called trouble.”

“There is trouble, Cordelia. See the logic in it. This house is so much more than either you, Connor, or me. There is a legacy here that must be properly seen to. It is an undeniable fact that your son is woefully unprepared to oversee this property.” My mother provided a counterargument, but James spoke over her. “He cannot continue the Clarke line. My brother was eldest and I understand that his son would inherit the property but, objectively, he is incapable of passing this on to a blood heir. Our family, this town, it is steeped in tradition and legacy. Will you throw that all away because of Darren’s wishes?”

Silence.

Then Cordelia spoke, her voice unwavering. “James. I would set fire to this house if my husband had asked it of me. Nothing, not you or some silly courtroom, will ever stand between what my husband wanted and what my son will receive.”

James scoffed derisively. “Has all this medication given you dementia, Cordelia? Are you—”

“That’s enough,” I said in my stage voice, a sound that filled the space that I stepped into. Both eyes darted to me.

James, as tall as me, wore a navy blue jacket with a white shirt and lavender-colored tie. His hair was a shock of silver, quite different from the dark brown I had remembered from my youth. He wore a pair of tortoiseshell glasses.

“Hi, Uncle James,” I said and stepped to the side of the door. “Goodbye, Uncle James.”

The man stared at me. The hint of a sneer tugged at his upper lip.

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