Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Say what you will about that old lady,” Kennedy says as she starts opening drawers set into a massive antique filing cabinet, “but the broad loves her hard copies.”
“This is so stupid,” I mutter, taking a step inside. “Really, really stupid.”
“Oh, quit complaining and help me.” She waves me over urgently. “There’s, like, a million papers in here, and I don’t think it’s been organized in ages.”
I force myself over to her, grumbling the whole time. She’s right; the filing cabinet is a total mess. The folders aren’t labeled, and their contents seem totally random. Receipts for construction projects are grouped with legal documents. I skim their contents and move on, looking for anything about Demir Yilmaz or anything on an organization called Gray Wolf.
“Junk, junk, junk,” Kennedy mutters, then she laughs. “Oh my god, it’s a Popular Mechanics magazine from 1973. Why is this thing even in here?”
“Focus,” I tell her, flipping through ancient stock certificates for companies I’ve never heard of and deeds to various properties I didn’t even know we owned. There are tax returns, correspondence, insurance policies for some of the more important art pieces we keep around the house, all scattered in with random garbage like birth announcements and wedding invites. There’s a letter apparently to my great-grandfather talking about a fishing trip from fifty years ago.
“This is madness,” Kennedy says after we’ve rifled through half the drawers. “No way we’ll find anything.”
“I don’t get why Grandmother wanted to keep me away from all this. It’s not like I could find something important.”
There’s a creak in the hall. Then a new voice cuts in. “She wanted you to keep away because she knew you’d make the mess even worse.”
I freeze. Kennedy’s face goes pale.
My brother’s standing in the doorway, frowning in at us.
Pierre is a few years older. He’s got a square jaw and rugged good looks. Women were always attracted to him, even when we were younger. Now he’s married and going a bit soft in the middle, though he still keeps up his appearance and always has on expensive, designer clothes.
“This isn’t what it seems,” I say quickly, shoving the filing cabinet closed. “Kennedy was just helping me, uh—”
Pierre holds up a hand. He glances at my friend. “You can go, Kennedy.”
She gives me a pathetic, searching look, but only shakes her head. “Don’t blame her,” she says quickly. “It was my fault.”
“I know you probably put her up to this, but my sister needs to grow a backbone. You can go, Kennedy. I want to talk to her for a moment.”
“Sorry,” she whispers before hurrying away, eyes downcast.
Pierre gives me an exasperated look once she’s gone. He walks over to the bar cart and pours himself a drink. I stay where I am, hands clasped in front of me, head hanging. I try to look as contrite as I can.
“What’s the scheme this time, little sister? Trying to add a zero to the end of your inheritance? The will’s not even in there, you know.”
“Nothing like that.”
“Well?”
I shift uncomfortably. “I was looking for something about my future husband.”
Pierre hesitates. He lets out a long sigh and takes a drink. “And you thought you’d find it in that old thing? Grandmother keeps the real documents in the safety deposit box, you know.”
Well, damn it, I didn’t even know we had one of those. But I probably should have assumed.
“Please don’t get Kennedy in trouble,” I say quickly. “You know how she is.”
“That one cares about you a little too much.” He crosses his arms, resting his glass on his opposite elbow. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rat you out.”
“Because—” I wave my hands in the air. “I’m the one marrying a stranger. Can you really blame me for all this?”
“Come on, Lucille. It really isn’t the end of the world.”
“Easy for you to say. You got to pick your wife.”
He snorts and looks toward the windows. “Cute you think that.”
“But you weren’t arranged, were you?”
“When I turned sixteen, Grandmother brought me a list with fifty family names on it. In no uncertain terms, she told me that I may marry a girl from that list. She also said that if I got a girl pregnant who wasn’t on the list, she’d castrate me and kick me out of the family.” He laughs lightly, shaking his head. “I think she meant it too.”
“I had no clue,” I admit, feeling a little guilty, but he’d never talked about this before. I knew Pierre was under an immense amount of pressure to keep the family afloat financially; I just didn’t realize that extended to his personal life too.
“It’s not something we talk about.” He turns back to me, stern now. “I accepted Grandmother’s terms. I did what was best for the family, even if it wasn’t in my personal best interests. Just in the way you are going to drop whatever this childish nonsense is.” He gestures vaguely at the cabinet.