Page 89 of Dream a Little Dream

“That’s me. Hi.”

“Hal Hobson, and this is my associate Derek Leary.” Derek nodded quietly, and Hal took the lead. “Shall we have a seat?”

I eyed him, still with no clues about why I’d been called there, but now I was starting to wonder if someone I knew had committed a crime. Was I about to be onDateline? Because I’d been training for this my entire life.

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but Donald Faber passed away two days ago.”

I blinked, confused. “He did? Wow.” That didn’t seem possible. That man was as strong as mustard gas. I felt a little sad about all this. Not that I’d liked Faber in the slightest, but I had a heart. “That’s too bad. No, I hadn’t heard anything.”

“He wasn’t in town at the time.”

“That’s probably why.”

“On a Jet Ski in Hawaii when his heart just gave out on him,” Derek offered, followed by a wide-eyed look. Definite sidekick energy.

“Oh. Well, that is a very Faber way to go, making himself happy and spending his gobs of money.”

“That’s actually why we’re here,” Hal said.

“Because he was selfish?” I covered my mouth because this was not the best time for me to blurt my feelings. Someone had died, and I should respect the people who were sad.

“Because of his money. You’re listed in his will as his sole beneficiary.”

I didn’t move a muscle. Neither did either of the two men seated across from me. “But that doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t like me. I was this gnat he occasionally swatted at.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first family I’ve represented that didn’t get along.”

“He’s not my family, though. That’s what I’m saying.”

Derek flipped open a manila folder and consulted his paperwork. “He lists you as his daughter.”

“But I’m not.” I froze. What was happening? No way. Not remotely possible. The men looked at me and then each other, not exactly sure what they’d just stepped into. I stood up and walked the perimeter of the room at an accelerated pace that matched my racing thoughts. After three passes, I came to a screeching halt and whirled on them. “He says he’s my father?”

Another exchanged look. “You didn’t know that?” Derek asked.

“No, Derek! I didn’t know that Donald Faber thought he was my motherfucking father!” I grabbed one of those chunky law books, good and shook the hell out of it, and placed it back on the shelf. I was the Incredible Hulk, reeling and ready to wage war on room 201 and Derek and Hal and whoever was the great puppet master in the sky.

I slunk into a chair, breathing heavily, and gathering my bearings. Finally, I eased out an exhale, found a glimmer of calm, and explained. “But the wonderful father who raised me is not a blood relative. Bio dad has been a bit of a question mark recently.”

“So, maybe this is the answer to your question,” Hal said gently. “Once his affairs have been handled, most everything he has is going to you.”

I hadn’t let myself acknowledge that portion yet. “You’re saying I’m rich now?” My voice sounded flat. I couldn’t make myself care about anything other than the bad news that it was very likely Donald Faber, that tool of a human, who was my paternal contributor. Dad was not a word I’d be using. He barely deserved former boss.

“It depends on your definition.”

“No, you’re rich,” Derek corrected. I had a feeling these two would be having a talk in the car.

Hal slid me a very detailed sheet, only I had no idea what I was looking at. “In addition to the properties he owns, and there are many, this number at the bottom is a rough estimate of what will be left once we settle everything.”

“Shut up.” I looked down at all of the zeroes. “That’s real.”

“It is.”

“And it’s coming to me? I manage a grocery store.”

“I’m sure you’re great at it, but you probably don’t have to anymore.”

That seemed like a ludicrous thing to say. “I love my job.”

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