Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Same for his estranged daughter, Elvira.
It’s a bittersweet reality that the old man built his twilight years around his grandkids for good reason.
I shake my head slowly, keeping my lips sealed so I don’t piss her off. No need to attack the black sheep openly on Leonidas’ behalf.
What’s done is done and it wasn’t my life.
She laughs a little before we lapse back into silence.
Only now, it’s not as tense or unpleasant.
It’s not like we don’t have enough thoughts to fall back on. I’m sure her brain has birds in it, just like mine, scattering at a hundred miles per hour.
“Honestly, it’s a little overwhelming,” she says after a second, picking at the edge of her mug. “Being left something this important.”
“I get it. You didn’t think he’d leave you a lost treasure.”
“I didn’t even know it existed.” She chews her bottom lip. “And I mean, you know my dad.”
“I’ve heard about him, yes,” I say cautiously, stifling the contempt that rubbed off on me.
The way she reacted last night tells me it’s a sore subject. She’s a Blackthorn, after all.
So it’s probably not a good idea to press her, much less tell her I know how shitty and reckless Gordon can be.
Leonidas always had so much regret whenever he’d bring up his nephew. How Gordon could’ve been great if he’d only learned patience, how to handle rejection, and put a damn lid on the bottle. If he could’ve grown up without blowing himself to pieces.
That’s part of the creative journey. Knowing how to take an arrow to the ribs, break it off, and stagger forward, stronger than ever, rather than bleeding out.
Gordon couldn’t do that.
He thought the Blackthorn name was synonymous with genius. He expected his connections to do the heavy lifting.
When the world told him otherwise—when it didn’t fall to its knees worshipping his bland creations—he turned bitter.
Drugs in his younger years. Gambling and get-rich-quick schemes. The bottle ramped up later, from what I know, and that’s what keeps him prisoner.
His art never took off. His addictions did.
When Leonidas figured out he was funding bad habits and a rotten attitude. When the man he once loved like a son started lying to his face, he cut him off cold.
Another reason I don’t like the thought of Cleo drinking at all.
Nothing wrong with a glass of wine or two, but sometimes that reckless itch lives in the genes. It’s far too easy to ride that slippery slope into hell.
Deathly hard to claw your way out.
Throw in Gordon’s appalling business sense, and you have a world-class failson. And from what I know, a shitty father, too.
Whenever I worry about falling short with Kit, I remember how bad it can be.
At least I care.
At least I’m in her life, building her dreams on my sweat. My only bad days are the ones where she doesn’t smile.
I never got the impression Gordon cared what his daughter did. He was probably relieved when the old man would take her off his back for the summer or a long spring break.
“You worked for PopPop for so long, so I don’t need to tell you,” Cleo says flatly. “You know about it. All the ugly secrets, I’m sure. Dad’s just mad I had a line in the will and he didn’t. He’ll come around asking any day now. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. You don’t owe him,” I growl before I can catch myself. “Sorry. It’s your business, Miss Blackthorn, and your grandfather meant it to stay that way. I’m sure you’ll tell your old man whatever you think he should know.”
Ideally, not a damn word more.
“I wish it was that easy. I’ll—” She breaks off, frowning, staring into her mug. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just… I never expected to inherit so much. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel a little guilty, knowing they never got along. Gramps didn’t have much luck with reconciling later in life.”
“He didn’t,” I say darkly. “And that’s not your fault. You’re not your father. You’re not responsible for the relationships Leonidas wanted, either. His life’s done, mistakes and all. Yours is still being written.”
“I guess you’re right.” She eyes me slowly. “But you’ll help me? Even with the appraisal stuff?”
“Just try and get rid of me, woman. You’ll need a crowbar and a lot more habaneros ruining my food this time,” I tell her.
She smiles.
I think she picks up what I’m putting down. The duration of this arrangement is in her hands.
The old man’s letter was crystal clear about my commitment.
“Like you say, the first thing we need to do is figure out whether it’s worth anything. If it’s a fake, then you’re off the hook.”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.
Hell, if it is a forgery, it’s not like the value crashes to zero, though. I’m no jeweler, but I’d be surprised if all the rocks and gold on that thing are fake. Leonidas would’ve known that years ago and junked it.