Finding Julian Page 3

  What the hell? What was their problem? All these people cared about was whether or not I’d embarrass them. Bastard child or not, I’d had enough.

  “I’m not interested in talking to anyone,” I snapped after her. “I just want to make peace with my father.”

  Marlene sashayed up the stairs, her heels clunking on the tile with each step. She paused at the top and scoffed, not buying into anything I said, before disappearing out of sight.

  I turned to Seven. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll head back to the guesthouse now.”

  “What about the paintings?” he asked, touching my elbow as I started to leave.

  I turned slowly and smiled reluctantly at him. Seven had no idea how small I felt, being in this house again. “Another time.”

  He nodded.

  As I made my way towards the front door, he quickly reached for my arm again. I stopped.

  “Julian, you’re a Vanderson too,” he said softly. “Remember that.”

  Spinning, I looked him straight in the eye. He gave me a partial smile then walked off without saying anything else. I stood frozen, stunned by his words as I watched his retreating back head out of the living room and down the long hallway.

  Without realizing what I was doing, I lifted my hand and started to rub the part of my arm where he’d touched me. For some strange reason, Seven had left a funny feeling in my stomach.

  Collecting myself, I walked out the front door and around the house to the side steps, heading back to the guesthouse. As I crossed the lawn, I glimpsed Aunt Bev lounging down on the beach.

  I changed direction and walked over. Aunt Bev noticed me coming and immediately closed the book she was reading, sitting up in the chair.

  “Did you enjoy the drive?” she asked as I got close.

  “It was okay. Narragansett is nice. Mr. Monroe, Marlene, and my sister aren’t.”

  Aunt Bev patted the chair next to hers, indicating for me to sit down. I did, keeping an eye on the book in her lap. It had my father’s name on it.

  “He left that for you?” I asked without thinking.

  She peered down at the book then back at me, smiling. “Yes.” Aunt Bev rubbed her thumb across his name. “My brother…he was a good man, Julian.”

  “Not a lot of people thought so. Ask my mom,” I shot back, regretting the words soon after.

  Aunt Bev inclined her head to the side. “Yes, Sarah was really angry at him, finding out he was already married with a child. He shouldn’t have done such a thing. Then when she discovered she was pregnant with you, it all took off.”

  I sat out on the chair, staring blankly at the waves crashing ashore on this warm and sunny afternoon. If my trip to Narragansett was more of a vacation, I’d probably go swimming. I really missed doing that.

  The thought was short-lived as I drifted back to the conversation. “That day, when my mother showed up here with me and got chased away, why did you offer to help?” I asked, gazing indirectly at Aunt Bev.

  She stood, clutching the book to her chest. “It was the right thing to do. Marlene’s a bitch, and your father was too ashamed to even face your mother then. But after some time he finally wanted to make amends—”

  “That’s why you sent my mother money in New York, even though she asked you not to?” I stood as well.

  Her brows furrowed as she answered, “Things were difficult. She needed it.” Aunt Bev softened her expression as she went on, “The money was from your father. I only told her it was mine so she’d accept it for your sake. Sarah’s prideful, but she’ll do anything for you, Julian.”

  Aunt Bev walked past me, slowly making her way towards the guesthouse. I dawdled behind, watching my toes curl in the sand. I always knew Aunt Bev cared about my well-being, yet, there was still a bad feeling in my chest, like my father should have fought harder to keep me in his life.

  It was too late for that now.

  Chapter Five

  Aunt Bev and I arrived at the church shortly after Marlene and Mackenzie. Seven had driven them.

  When I got out of the car, I fidgeted with my navy blue dress, feeling a little nervous going inside the church. The way everyone else was dressed—like they were competing against each other for the most stylish title—didn’t make me feel very confident.

  Aunt Bev joined me and took my hand into hers. “Remember what I said,” she whispered as we slowly walked behind everyone.

  “Beverly,” said a syrupy voice as we approached the steps. “Oh, Bev,” the petite lady threw her arms around Aunt Bev, hugging her as if she’d been dying to do so.

  Finally she released Aunt Bev long enough for her to get a word out. “It’s good to see you, Carey.”

  “Oh, my dear friend. How are you holding up?” she asked.

  Dipping her head, Aunt Bev replied solemnly, “I’m all right.” She turned and reached her hand out, towing me over. “I want you to meet Julian, my niece.” She said nothing more. There was nothing else needed to be said.

  An unexpected chill swished through my body. I felt good, being acknowledged as a Vanderson.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Julian,” Carey said, a genuine smile playing across her porcelain face. She enclosed my hand with both of hers. “Your aunt’s mentioned you on many occasions.” She took on a more serious look. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, politely slipping out of her grasp.

  Aunt Bev held my hand once again and led me into the church, not saying another word to Carey. “She’s a good friend, but quite the gossiper,” she whispered as we slowly moved down the middle aisle behind the crowd.

  There were quite a few people at the service; many crying, and some sitting motionless in the pews. The organist played a wistful song that expressed the time of mourning. It consumed the air and nestled a gloomy cloud over everyone.

  I’d never experienced a depressive environment like this before—the black clothes and grief-stricken expressions. Yet, I felt more nervous than sorrowful. Even if I didn’t have a connection with my father, shouldn’t I be feeling something now?

  My eyes glanced up at the glistening, silver open casket ahead, with elegantly arranged white wreaths placed aside.

  Aunt Bev’s hand trembled in mine. As we approached the casket, her grip tightened and her body shivered.

  Fear circulated throughout me. Many times I’d imagined meeting my father, telling him what my life had been like growing up. How much I wanted him there. Somehow, there’d always been a part of me missing, lost. But my stubbornness had shoved the chance of finding that missing piece away. Now, he was lying in a casket. All I had left was regret.

  Coming to a standstill, as the person in front of us whispered something then walked away from my father’s casket, I allowed Aunt Bev to go ahead. So she could have one last time with him. What was I going to say though? Huh. Silly me, he was already gone. My words would be useless.

  Aunt Bev stepped up to the silver casket and exhaled deeply. She kissed her fingers and rested them on top of his forehead, sobbing quietly. Then she opened her purse, taking out tissue to dry her eyes. She turned and came back towards me.

  “Go ahead, dear,” she prompted.

  I looked at her and swallowed hard. The person behind me coughed, possibly to urge me on. My legs started to shake nervously as I moved towards the casket. I placed my hands on the metal edge and stared down at my father, Cole Vanderson.

  What a surreal moment, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I wanted to shed a tear. This was my father. The man whose eyes I had. My dad. Where was my grief? I was frozen inside.

  Not a single tear fell from my eyes. My fingers bore down into the smooth material lining his casket. Frustration and shame battled inside me. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t reproduce that feeling from a few nights ago when Aunt Bev called to say he’d died. Instead, I felt…nothing.

  A warm hand gently wrapped around my wrist, gradually pulling me away. Like a ragdoll, I sluggishly fol
lowed.

  “It’s fine,” he whispered. I breathed in his cool, minty breath as it brushed past my cheeks and calmed my nerves.

  Glancing up, I collided with piercing emerald eyes. Seven’s. I said nothing to him, only let him lead me to one of the benches where I sat down beside Aunt Bev. Seven—dressed appropriately in a black suit, with a white shirt and grey tie—settled in next to me. Unexpectedly, he grasped my hand in his and squeezed it. The warm touch of his skin on mine comforted me. That was all I needed. The numbness, which immobilized me, seeing my father’s lifeless body, began to thaw.

  As time passed by, a few people went up to pay tribute, including Mackenzie and Marlene. Unlike her wailing mother, Mackenzie was just as emotionless as I was. Despite dark shades, concealing her eyes, no wetness or smudged make-up stained her cheeks. She may be many things, but here and now, I admired her strength, and also how subtle she looked among the fashionable crowd. She was wearing a plain black dress, stocking and low heels.

  Following a short sermon, the casket was carried out of the church and placed into the hearse by a few men who were good friends of my father, I’d been told. Not everyone went to the cemetery, only closest friends and family. Mr. Monroe wasn’t at the church and I didn’t see him at the burial site either. That was odd, since he’d been dressed up when I saw him earlier.

  *

  I drove with Aunt Bev back to the estate. Everyone else arrived ahead of us. Then Aunt Bev walked with Marlene, Mackenzie and Seven to the house as a black car pulled up in the driveway. Instead of waiting to see who it was, I headed towards the guesthouse.

  My time to get out of here had come.

  “Julian,” Aunt Bev stopped me. I looked around. She stepped away from the door and walked closer to me. “Come inside with me,” she said softly. “You should be present at the reading of the will.”

  I shook my head, backing away from her. “I didn’t come here for that. I’m going to get my stuff and head home.”

  Not giving her a second glance, I turned and continued around to the side steps. My ponytail bounced as I hurried across the lawn to the guesthouse.

  Getting back to the room, I started putting my things together. I’d decided to catch a bus to Providence and take a train back to Manhattan. I did what I came here to do. Now all I wanted was to get out and go home.

  I went into the bathroom to get my body wash and red towel, but I couldn’t find the latter. Maybe Claire had taken it to the laundry. Whatever. I had plenty in my apartment, which were probably going to get thrown out if I didn’t make it back in time.

  Draping my bag over my shoulder, I glanced around the guestroom one last time, peering out at the balcony and admired how breathtaking the view truly was. A sigh escaped my lips as I headed for the door. Before I could grab the knob, the door opened. Aunt Bev.

  “Julian, I want you to stay,” she implored, filling the doorway and blocking my means of escape.

  I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t think so. Look, I’ll just take one of the city buses downtown.”

  Lowering my eyes to the hardwood floor, I said, “Aunt Bev, I’m sorry you lost your brother, my father…” I paused, not sure how my words sounded to her, but then continued anyway, “Thank you for your hospitality, and for caring so much for me over the years, but I don’t belong here. I have to get back to Manhattan.”

  Moving around her to leave, Aunt Bev gripped my forearm and tugged me out into the passage.

  “What are you doing?” I fumed, trying to wring my arm out of her grasp.

  With a strength I never knew she had, she, she ignored my fussing and dragged me out of the guesthouse, across the lawn, towards the back door of the main house. Aunt Bev released me only when we got into the living room, under the watchful eyes of my stepmother, Mackenzie, Seven, his father, and some man I remembered seeing at the funeral.

  An awkward air filled the room. My irritation at being manhandled by my aunt turned to humiliation.

  I cleared my throat and rubbed my sweaty palms onto my cotton dress. I was so eager to leave I didn’t bother changing. “Sorry to interrupt, I was just leaving.”

  To my surprise, Seven shot up from the chair. He opened his mouth to say something, but the strange man spoke first. “Please, I insist you wait until after the reading of the will before walking out that door.”

  “Julian, this is Mr. Cornwell, he’s Cole’s lawyer and friend,” Aunt Bev explained. She walked over to the beige, Lexington upholstery, salon sofa on the other side of the room, opposite Marlene and Mackenzie, keeping her focus on the lawyer as she sat down.

  Mr. Cornwell relaxed in one of the accent chairs and unfolded a sheet of paper. The others eyed me with a look on their faces that either screamed irritation or pleaded for me to take a seat. I decided to not to be a nuisance to Aunt Bev any further, settling down beside her on the plush and comfy sofa.

  Seven’s father, Anthony Monroe, remained standing behind the sofa where Marlene and Mackenzie sat. He rested his hand on Marlene’s shoulders, eager to hear what the will contained. How ironic he’d show up for this yet he hadn’t bothered to attend my father’s funeral.

  My stomach churned as I regarded their faces, putting two and two together. With the exception of Aunt Bev and Seven, it seemed everyone else was more concerned about my father’s wealth than mourning his death.

  Mr. Cornwell cleared his throat. My attention switched to him. He straightened his glasses on his face then began to read from the sheet of paper.

  “This is the last will and testament of Cole Vanderson.” He relaxed in the armchair as he went on, “I know I’m not a perfect man, I’ve done wrong to all of you in some way. But I sincerely hope you will forgive me, especially my two lovely daughters.”

  I quivered, hearing the mention of two daughters. Not just one. That was good enough for me. As soon as he was finished reading the will I’d be on my way.

  “To my darling sister, who’s been working closely with me for so long, helping to manage Vanderson Publishing, I grant you complete takeover of the company. I’m sure you will continue to make me and our father proud, little sister.”

  I glanced at Aunt Bev then, she smiled humbly, staring down at her fingers as she picked at the fabric of her dress.

  “To lucky Seven,” my eyes diverted back to Mr. Cornwell at the mention of Marlene’s nephew in the will. “I really got to know you in the short amount of time you’ve been with us. You are indeed an extraordinary young man. As modest as you are, I doubt you’ll accept my gifts, so, I’d like you to at least remain at the Vanderson guesthouse for as long as you wish. Also, I really hope you’ll remember your promise to me.”

  I observed Seven discreetly. His eyelashes fluttered as if fighting back tears. It seemed he and my father shared some secret.

  “As for Marlene,” Mr. Cornwell proceeded, “I leave more than enough funds to make sure your life remains comfortable. I hope you’ll be satisfied with the amount.”

  I didn’t bother looking over at Marlene to know she would sport a satisfied grin. Her overly ambitious persona was evident the moment we came in contact.

  “To Mackenzie, I’ve secured that condo which you love so much. You will also find a large sum of money in your savings account a day after this will is read. Mr. Cornwell will see to it.”

  That’s it. It was over. Already feeling put out by this entire event, I exhaled and started to stand up.

  “Ms. Rowell, I’m not finished yet,” Mr. Cornwell’s voice stopped me. Aunt Bev pulled me back down. I cocked my ears to hear what he had to say.

  “To Sarah, who I know will not be present at the reading of this will, I ask for your forgiveness in the only way I know how, by taking care of our daughter. Julian, I wish I could’ve seen you before leaving. Beverly showed me pictures and I cried over every single one. My dear, this is all I can give you now and I hope you will accept your inheritance—”

  “Sorry?” I interrupted. “My…inheritance…?” I mumbled,
completely surprised. Everyone seemed alarmed. Marlene and Mackenzie both leaned over the sofa. Mr. Monroe flinched. Seven slouched and stared at me, a smile fighting the corner of his lips.

  I turned around to and gaze at Mr. Cornwell, fearful of where this was going.

  He continued reading, “I hereby turn over the Vanderson estate, which includes my house and the remainder of my wealth, to Julian Rowell. Before making a decision in how to deal with this, as I know very well she will refuse, I ask that Julian please reside in the house for at least one month. During that time, I implore her to develop an understanding of the family business with the help of Beverly, as well as try to establish a relationship with her sister. If after that time Julian still wishes to deny her inheritance then she can do whatever she desires with the entire Vanderson estate, but she cannot turn it over to anyone in the family, not to Marlene, or her sister. And not even to you, Beverly. I trust Julian will make the right decision based on her heart and not by anyone’s influence. Signed, Mr. Cole Vanderson.”

  “No!” Mackenzie and Mr. Monroe shouted in unison.

  “What!” Marlene screamed. She shot up from the sofa. “He left it all to HER?” she pointed a trembling, manicured finger at me. Her eyeballs expanded as if they were about to pop out of her head.

  “That can’t be,” Mackenzie shrieked. “It must be a mistake. Let me see that!” She snatched the will from Mr. Cornwell and re-read it.

  Finally, Mackenzie peered up from the paper. Her eyes watered and her face twisted so much I thought she was going to change into a green monster.

  She jumped up from the sofa and stood beside her mother, pointing at me. “You tricked him!” No, not at me. She was aiming at Aunt Bev.

  “Stop it, right now!” Aunt Bev demanded. “I did no such thing.”

  The room filled with silence. Everyone kept their gaze on me. I wanted to dispute the will, to ask Mr. Cornwell for a way to turn the estate over to Mackenzie fast. But I couldn’t utter a word. My head felt dizzy and my eyes blurred.