The Inheritance by Simon Tolkien

Author:Simon Tolkien
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical, Northern, Mystery & Detective, Historians, France, Fathers and sons, Crimes against, General, Oxford (England), Suspense, Legal, Inheritance and succession, Legal stories, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Fiction, Historians - Crimes against, Lost works of art
ISBN: 9780312539078
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2010-04-13T06:00:00+00:00

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You can see all the museums from Burnham Harbor – the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Museum, and the Adler Planetarium. When I was a teenager I knew them all like the back of my hand, could draw you a map of their floor layouts with my eyes closed, but it’s been years since I stepped inside any of them. Exhibits have come and gone, renovations started and finished. Nothing’s the same except the architecture. Much like my father’s condo.

My father was never the type to want for a boat. He grew up in Brooklyn, riding trains and swimming in the murky water at Coney Island. Only the rich kids with apartments in Manhattan and estates in upstate New York owned boats. On my father’s block you were lucky if your parents owned a car.

I don’t ask if the small yacht belongs to Neal or the man waiting in front of it. Bald and aging he wears khaki shorts and a white polo, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He introduces himself as, “York. York Skinner,” lazily shaking my hand until Neal informs him that I’m Julian’s daughter.

He raises an eyebrow in interest before he throws a look over his shoulder and says, “Well you won’t be the only woman on this voyage, that’s for sure.”

I turn around. A group of bikini-clad women rush towards us, all of them tall and thin, wearing sunglasses or hats or shawls around their hips. They giggle as they run, a heavy-set man chasing them with a water gun, aiming for their perfect asses.

Neal smiles sheepishly and motions towards the women. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I glance down at my dress. Black and sophisticated, perfect for a repass, not so much for a ride on a yacht. I smile. “I don’t mind at all.”

The men spend a majority of the voyage in the cabin, the doors locked as they lounge on leather couches and drink and talk. It’s business. I know it and the women around me know it.

They’re actresses and models and college students and lawyers. They urge me to peel off my dress and laze around in my underwear (“What’s the difference?”) but I decline and sip on a beer, soaking up the sun.

I imagine this must’ve been what my father’s life was like. Middle of the day yacht trips, beautiful women awaiting his return. For a second I think something foolish - Am I turning into my mother? Into Gina? Darlene? Waiting around for Neal? - I swallow the thought instantly. We’ve just met.

The door to the cabin opens and the atmosphere instantly changes. The women are up and on their feet, pushing drinks into the men’s hands, fiddling with the stereo until a blast of pop music fills the boat. Much like the women at my father’s repass, the women on the yacht are taken with Nate. They play with his tie, run their fingers through his hair, all while he passes me a look. The same one from before – save me – and I do.

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