HIM
is unbuttoned, revealing a white t-shirt, and is untucked from his gray slacks; his hair is scattered all over his head. Ernie stands up and heads over to shake his hand. Luke stops buttoning up his shirt to shake Ernie's hand then my uncle's.He asks the receptionist where the restroom is before excusing himself. I want to know why he is here, but for some reason seeing him just now and knowing that he is here sets me somewhat at ease.
"Why is he here?" Jason asks bitterly.
"Not now, Jason," Gladys mumbles.
I can cut the tension building in the air with a knife since Luke walked through the door. I grab hold of Jason's hand, and he puts his arm around me. I lean into him and close my eyes as we wait for my father's lawyers to call us into their office.
Luke walks back out from the bathroom, his shirt buttoned except for the top one, and neatly tucked into his pants. His hair is laying perfect across his head.
He sits by himself over by the window and takes his phone out of his pocket. I cannot help but stare at him. He looks insanely handsome the way he's dressed. Not that he doesn't look just as good in jeans and a t-shirt or just work pants, but right now, he looks perfect. I find myself looking him over from head to toe.
Even his shoes are perfect; they are black cap toe dress boots. Until now, all I've seen him wear are his dirty old work boots. His outfit is so debonair and sophisticated. I bring my eyes further up his body, studying every inch of him. He has long fingers; they are masculine, not too skinny but not sausage-like either. His broad shoulders are so sexy, and his jawline is defined.
I bring my eyes up to meet his.
Holy Shit!
Oh, God! Shit! Shit! Shit! He's looking right at me. What an idiot I am, caught like a deer in headlights practically undressing this man with my eyes. He gives me a slight smile, and I look away quickly without returning the gesture. I smile and look back over at him, but his face is down, looking back at his phone. His skin is beautiful too. He's so mysterious to me. There must be so much more to him then the eye can see.
I break free from my inappropriate sexual gaze and impure thoughts as I hear a voice.
"They are ready for you now," the receptionist says. "Right this way, please."
We all get up from our seats and head into a decently sized conference room with an oval mahogany table surrounded by fancy chairs. The room is decorated warmly with many works of art hanging from the walls. A bookcase is full of legal books and cascades along the back wall. Flowers lie centered on the table in a large vase. I take a seat furthest from my father's lawyers; on one side of me is my aunt, and on the other is Gladys.
Luke sits beside my uncle with an empty chair on both sides of him, almost directly sitting across from Jason, who, I'm sure, is secretly plotting his death. Jason is uncomfortable, but he has no choice but to deal with the situation. Both lawyers sit at the opposite end from me, a folder and manila envelope displayed out in front of them. The receptionist brings in a pitcher of water, some glasses, and a few boxes of tissues.
"Shall we begin?" one lawyer asks as he stands to introduce himself and his partner to us.
"You have all gathered here today to hear the final Will and Testament of Robert Allen Garrett," the other lawyer says.
He hands the receptionist a folder, and she starts to pass out a sealed envelope to each of us.
"Robert prepared a letter for each of you to be read at your leisure, whenever you are ready," the lawyer exclaims.
I can feel the tears well up in the corners of my eyes, and I reach for a tissue. Gladys and my aunt both reach to rub my back as I dab the corners of my eyes. I take the letter from the receptionist and place it on the table in front of me. Written in my father's handwriting, it says:
To my Little Lady
I'm unable to stop myself as tears flow down my face. My dad always called me his "Little Lady," and I always called him "My Hero." I grab the letter from the table and slide it into my purse. I wipe my eyes, wishing I hadn't worn mascara or at least wore the waterproof kind. I am blessed with the moral support here with me today.
"We will start by reading Robert's personal portion of his Will then end with his business portion," proclaims one of his lawyers.
Here we go. My father's lawyers will start naming off his personal belongings, the things he worked so hard for, and that he treasured. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I open them and look over at Luke, who is staring at the table. He looks up at me with the most caring and sympathetic eyes. I look away as the lawyers begin to read my father's Will.
“I, Robert Allen Garrett, resident of the City of Baronette, in the State of Wisconsin, being of sound mind, body, and soul, not acting under duress or undue influence, fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my last Will and Testament.”
I fade off into memories of my childhood. Memories of my father teaching me the proper way to hold a baseball bat, wiping away gooey marshmallow from my cheek after eating a s' more he had just made, and hanging my straight-A report cards next to my drawings on the fridge. I remember him picking the gravel from my wounds before bandaging my hand and knee after taking a digger