Soaring (Magdalene #2)

“I’m sorry?” I asked my brother.

 

“Put that in the oven” he ordered.

 

“Lawrie—”

 

“Get it baking, Amelia.”

 

Oh God.

 

He called me Amelia.

 

He never called me Amelia unless something was happening where he had to go all big brother, like I was doing something stupid after Conrad dumped me, he’d heard about it and he called me to tell me to stop it and pull myself together.

 

I quickly put the pie in the oven then turned back to Lawrie.

 

“What?” I whispered.

 

“I’ll preface this by saying this is bullshit.” He waved the expensive, thick-stock paper in the air. “Clearly you’ve delivered some perceived slight to Mom and Dad and this is their way of communicating who holds the power.”

 

Oh God.

 

“What, Lawrie?”

 

He drew in a deep breath.

 

Then he gave it to me.

 

“They’ve petitioned Addison to examine the terms of your Calway trusts, both the one they set up for you and the one all Calway heirs receive. This request is in regards to your behavior after Conrad left you. They’ve shared with Addison you acted in a manner unbefitting a Calway heir, which breaks the terms of the trusts, and they’ve asked him to consider revoking them.”

 

I stared at my brother thinking I just knew something was up with them.

 

“They can’t do this,” Lawrie continued. “I was there on more than one occasion where they encouraged you to communicate your distaste for Conrad’s desertion, doing this with what is for them not a small amount of glee. I know Robin was too. We’ll both prepare statements and send them to Addison. If you’re truly in danger, and you’re not, the terms of the trust state that it can be revoked only if behavior garners public attention, which yours did not, then Dad’s in the same position because he encouraged you to do so.”

 

I kept staring at him, unable to speak.

 

“Regardless, Addison’s firm gets a retainer from the trust, not Mom and Dad, and he’s a good man,” Lawrie reminded me. “He’ll do what they ask but he’ll adhere to the letter of the trust. This is just posturing and the timing of this delivery is not lost on me. They’re making a point, just like Mom and Dad.” He tossed the papers aside. “Forget it for today. I’ll phone Robin tomorrow and get to work on your rebuttal.”

 

“They can have it,” I whispered.

 

“Pardon?” Lawrie asked.

 

I focused on him. “They can have it. I have the Bourne trust they can’t touch. It’s twenty-five million dollars. I don’t live a lavish lifestyle. I don’t intend to live a lavish lifestyle. But I can easily live a relatively lavish lifestyle off the interest from that trust.”

 

This was not wrong.

 

Of course, I could probably not afford to sell off all my belongings, redecorate the entirety of a massive five-bedroom show home, replace my entire wardrobe and buy whatever car I wanted.

 

But I could get Aisling the expensive blender she was eyeing at Bed Bath and Beyond for Christmas (if Mickey approved, that was).

 

“You’re not going to lose your trusts, MeeMee,” Lawrie reiterated.

 

“No, probably not,” I replied. “But I’m not going to phone them and give them the reaction they want to this. Either being angry or being apologetic or,” I threw out a hand, “whatever they want from me. If they push this, fine. They can have the money. They can disinherit me from the piles they’d have given me when they stop breathing. I don’t need that either. I just hope they don’t punish Auden and Olympia with this kind of nonsense. Now that would make me angry.”

 

“All right, if you don’t give a shit about this, I do,” Lawr said angrily. “What’s up their asses?”

 

“I didn’t take their calls when I first moved here because I was trying to sort my head out about how I’d been behaving, and I needed to focus on setting up a home, a life, and winning back my kids,” I told him. “This lasted awhile but I did email them. In fact, I’ve been emailing them regularly for months. It isn’t like I cut ties with them completely.”

 

“That’s it?” he asked.

 

“It could be even more trivial, Lawrie. You know them,” I answered. “They don’t need much.”

 

Lawr looked down at the papers.

 

I moved to him and touched his arm.

 

He looked back to me.

 

“I really don’t care,” I told him honestly.

 

“It’s fucking Thanksgiving, MeeMee, and they knew because you didn’t have them last year that you have the kids. Even if they didn’t, that’s likely something you shared in your emails.” He reached out a hand and pushed at the paper. “And they give you this?”

 

“It’s them,” I reminded him.

 

“It isn’t right,” he reminded me.

 

“No. It isn’t. But it’s them. And if you, or I, rise to the bait, we’re doing what they want. Instead, if we let this go, see what Addison finds, which as you say will not be in their favor, we’re being us. We’re being who we are. We are not being what they want to make us be.”

 

Lawr’s jaw clenched.

 

“They’ll get over it,” I told him. “It’s too ill-bred to hold a grudge.”

 

He studied me a minute before he burst out laughing. And he did this pulling me into his arms.

 

I wrapped mine around him too.

 

We held on and I gave it time before I asked, “Do they know you’re divorcing Mariel?”

 

“Come Christmas Day, I expect my letter from Addison to arrive.”

 

That meant he told them and they were frosting him out.

 

I leaned my head back and caught his eyes.

 

“They’re home, alone, no kids, no grandkids, stewing.” I gave him a squeeze. “Where are we?”

 

“Together, making pies,” he replied quietly.

 

I grinned.

 

“Maine made you smart,” he remarked.

 

I glared. “I’ve always been smart.”

 

“Yes. Sorry. You’re right. Sitting around watching you and Robin drink vodka and connive to slash Conrad’s tires. Brilliant. What was I thinking?” he teased.

 

I pulled away, mumbling, “A phase.”

 

“Yeah,” he replied.

 

It was time to move on.

 

“You have another crust to roll out and I have to finish the apples, Lawrie.”

 

“Right, boss,” he said briskly but this was also jokingly.

 

He went to his crust.

 

I went to the apples.

 

The apple pie was in with the pumpkin, and Lawr was working on the crust for the pecan pie when my phone chimed.

 

I looked to it, saw the text from Pippa and snatched it up.

 

Sorry, Mom, super sorry. We’re still at Dad’s. But we’ll get there as soon as we can. Promise!

 

I gritted my teeth but replied, Okay, kiddo. Do me a favor and text when you’re on your way so Uncle Lawrie and I won’t worry.

 

And I knew I’d done the right thing when she quickly replied, You’re the greatest! And we will!

 

My baby girl thought I was the greatest.

 

I could ride on that for eternity.

 

So it’d easily take me through another hour.

 

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

 

But it wasn’t Conrad or my parents who would turn Thanksgiving into a disaster.

 

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