MALCOLM
The early morning sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass window and into the parlor, casting colorful shadows across the dark hardwood floor. I groaned. My father always had a flair for the dramatic. I'd say that calling an early Saturday morning meeting qualified as dramatic. It was also exactly like him.
My head hurt from drinking a wee bit too much the night before. Okay, a lot too much, but I hid it well. The bags under my eyes seemed to stand out more than normal. Those, I couldn't do much about, so I just had to roll with it. “Mr. Crane, you look rather sleepy this morning,” Alba, our faithful housekeeper, said with a knowing smile.
She handed me a cup of coffee without me even asking. She knew me too well.
“Thanks, Alba, but I've told you. Don't call me Mr. Crane,” I said with a smile. “That's my father's name.”
Alba had been with my family for at least as long as I've been alive. Probably longer than that. Her dark hair was more gray than brown these days, her smooth face showing subtle signs of age. She was at least the same age as my dad, if not a little older. Health-wise though, she seemed to be faring much better than the old man.
“You're going to be the head of the family before long,” she winked. “Better get used to being called Mr. Crane, CEO of Crane Enterprises.”
“Yeah, not exactly looking forward to that,” I said.
Alba might have been right though. Given my father's health, it might be the reason we were all gathered for a family meeting. Officially, it was my mom who called the meeting – though I knew she was acting on my father's instructions. She sat across from me, holding her head high and looked as dignified as ever as she sipped her tea. She'd never been one for coffee, never needed it. She'd always been full of life and zest; something that hadn't change all that much despite the fact that she was getting older herself.
Her hair was freshly colored and neatly piled on top of her head in a light blonde bun. Her mouth suddenly twisted into a frown and she stared past me. I didn't have to turn around to see the reason for her disdain – his voice could be heard all the way down the hallway.
“Good morning, Cranes,” Adam said as he sauntered into the parlor room.
He smirked at me as he passed me by. The woman on his arm didn't dare look at me, but her appearance hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut.
“Danielle?” I asked.
I stood, surprised and appalled to see my ex-girlfriend on Adam's arm. We'd split up not even twenty-four hours before and yet, there she was, slinking along with my brother like nothing happened.
She didn't make eye contact with me, her blue eyes wide as if she didn't understand how she got there. Adam leaned close and kissed her to taunt me. Danielle kissed him back – looking very enthusiastic. My blood boiled inside of me, but I knew I had to keep myself in check. This wasn't the time or place for it.
“Brother – or shall I say – half-brother, since that's clearly what I am to you,” he greeted me, stepping forward and letting go of Danielle's hand. “Surprised to see me?”
“Not at all,” I said.
I wasn't surprised to see him turn up. I was surprised to see her, though. Even more surprised to see her with him. Danielle finally met my gaze and I felt that familiar shudder roll through me. She’d always had a profound effect on me.
She looked beautiful, as she always did. Her white-blonde hair sleek and straight, fell down and kissed just the tops of her shoulders. She was nearly six feet tall in her heels, and completely lean. Almost too thin, thanks to her blossoming career as a model. Personally, I liked her better when she had a few curves
“No? Then why do you look so shell-shocked?” Adam teased, patting me on the back.
His eyes move toward where I was staring – at Danielle. The smile on his face was predatory and malicious. He looked back at me and I could see the cold gleam in his eyes.
“Ah yeah, I guess I understand now,” he said. “But she said you two were over, so I assumed it was fine?”
“We are over,” I said, standing tall as I looked over at my ex. “She's all yours Adam. Enjoy yourself.”
He patted me on the back again, leaning into me. “Don't worry. You can have her back when I'm done with her. It's not love or anything like that. We're both just looking for a good time, nothing more.”
Adam was an asshole. He's been an asshole since the day he first came into this household. I understood why he was the way he was. I'd imagine being the family bastard would make anyone a little bitter and resentful. Never being considered “pure” or “real” in regard to the family would be enough to piss most people off. I got that. But, he seemed to take it to an extreme. Seemed to revel in it, in fact.
His mother wasn't my mother, even though we were only a year apart. He was a year younger than me. My father sent money to his mother for years, unbeknownst to us, which was why my mom still refused to accept him into the family. He was my father's dirty little secret and she continued to think of him as such.
It was not Adam's fault. He didn't ask to be born into such a screwed-up situation, so I'd always tried to be decent to him. But damn, he made it hard sometimes. He liked to poke me every chance he got. It was as if he was goading me, trying to make me go off on him. We've had our fights growing up, don't get me wrong. We weren't close by any means, and likely never would be. But, I’d always tried to remain civil toward him.
Alba happened to answer the door the day Adam had shown up on our porch, and I'll never forget when she stepped into the dining room, during dinner, and whispered something to my father. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, and we all knew something was up. Little did we know his bastard child was standing in our foyer, ready to disrupt our lives forever.
“She's all yours, Adam,” I said. “I don't want her back. Ever.”
I wanted to say something more biting, something that would cut her to the core. But, I didn't. I remained civil even though it was killing me to do so. My gaze never left Danielle though, who held her head high. She heard me, I made sure of it, but my words didn't seem to have any effect on her. Or, if they did, she was doing a masterful job of hiding it.
I left Adam alone with Danielle and joined my mother on the sofa. She was staring into the fire, sipping her tea, trying her best to pretend that Adam wasn't there. I understood her pain and disdain for my half-brother. I didn't necessarily agree with it, but I understood it. Adam was a constant reminder that her husband hadn't always been faithful to her. My mom's discomfort was completely justified when that reminder stood within ten feet of her.
It seemed like I'd been making excuses for him and clinging to that mantra most of my life.
Who he was wasn't his fault. What was his fault, however, was how he continued to behave around my mother. Knowing she hated him, he continued to throw my dad's affair in her face, every chance he got. He was petty, childish, and vindictive. That was his way. I wanted to believe that if he'd ever showed her a modicum of respect, she might have eventually come around where he was concerned.
But, he didn't, and neither did she, which made gatherings of our little family incredibly uncomfortable.
I leaned over and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, hugging her tightly. She leaned into me, seemingly grateful for the contact, and I took the opportunity to whisper into her ear.
“Did you know he was coming?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I didn't invite him,” she said in a hushed tone. “Your father must have.”
Her hands trembled, so I put her tea and my coffee on the table in front of us and took her hands in mine.
“What's this all about, mom?” I asked. “Did he give you any clues?”
She'd kept her mouth shut about this meeting ever since she called me to tell me to be there. Her eyes met mine and I could see she knew exactly why we were there. She just wasn't telling me. Probably because my father told her to keep her lips zipped about it.
“Your father will explain everything once he's done meeting with his lawyer,” she said.
My father's lawyer, Terrance Houston, had been in dad's office for at least an hour. Mom was hush-hush about that as well. Given the secrecy and all, I assumed this meeting had to do with his will. Although, as far as I knew, my dad wasn't dying yet. Yeah, his health had been going downhill the last few months or so, but there was nothing that would signal that he was on his death bed. Certainly nothing that would seem to warrant a meeting like this being called.
As my mind swirled with thoughts and emotions, an icy finger of dread trailed its way up my spine. Was there something wrong with my dad that he hadn't told us about yet? Was he actually dying? The more I thought about it and played out the worst-case scenarios, the more my anxiety about it all ramped up.
My mother put her hand on mine and squeezed. She sensed my anxiety and sought to help me keep it in check. I gave her a grateful smile and a nod, grateful for her comfort.
We heard the door to his office creak open down the hall, and not a moment too soon – I was on the verge of losing my marbles from the anticipation. Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor and then Terrance stepped out – alone – and didn't say a word to any of us as he walked through the parlor, toward my mother. Stopping before he, he took her hand and gave her a gentle, compassionate smile before speaking in a hushed tone.
“He's ready to see you now,” he said.
Terrance's turned his gaze to me and he nodded in recognition.
“Malcolm, good to see you.”
“Good to see you, Terrance.”
I met his gray eyes, but he looked away from me, and back to my mother.
“Everything is ready,” he said gently.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
My mother glanced at me, her eyes sad. That one glance, that one expression, made that finger of ice on my spine turn into a frigidly cold fist that grabbed and squeezed my heart. My breath caught in my throat and the feeling of dread that settled over me was oppressive.
“Your father will explain everything, dear,” she said.
Without a word, Terrance turned and led the way down the hall to dad's office, simply expecting us to follow in his wake. Adam was the first one through the door, sauntering into the office, Danielle at his side.
“Wait here, peach,” he said, kissing her and motioning for her to sit outside. “Family business.”
Danielle didn't argue, but she looked over at me, an inscrutable look in her eyes. When we were together, she'd been considered family, and was allowed to sit in on all family meetings and functions. We hadn't been engaged, but most people considered it to pretty much be an inevitability, and my family had simply accepted her as my wife-to-be.
Now that we were done, and she was with Adam, she'd been downgraded to just a girlfriend. A hanger-on. An outsider who didn't warrant a seat at the family table. It was petty, but it gave me a small sense of satisfaction. I headed into the office without sparing her another look, but she grabbed my arm as I was passing her by.
“Malcolm, can we talk afterward?” she asked.
I pulled my arm away and didn't bother to answer her. I had nothing to say and there was no reason for me to have a conversation with her. I held the door open for my mom, who gave me a curious look.
She mouthed, “What happened?”
“Later,” I told her.
I knew I'd have to explain everything to my family sooner or later. I'd figured I'd have more time to broach the subject. My family had come to like Danielle a lot and I knew our split was going to hit them a little bit hard. Then she showed up hanging all over Adam though, and the cat was out of the bag about our breakup. There was no gentle way to break it to them after that. Oh well – not much I could do.
I stepped into my dad's office and closed the door behind us, shutting Danielle out. If she'd wanted to be part of this family, perhaps she should have acted like it. Betraying my trust was not the way to go about it. I would have done almost anything for that woman, and she’d taken it for granted. And now? Hooking up with my half-brother not even twenty-four hours after we'd broken up? That was low, even for her. Though, I guess I should have expected her willingness to stoop to that level after what she'd done to me. I probably shouldn't have been all that surprised.
My dad's office had always been a sacred space. His sacred space, to be more precise. It was a sanctuary I hadn't been allowed to set foot in until I was old enough to work for him. Which in his eyes, was when I was fifteen. I worked for him after school while others played football or went on dates or did whatever it was kids my age typically did.
My dad though, had insisted that I forgo the usual teenage activities and demanded that I devote myself to learning the business. There were times I resented it, sure. But, I bit the bullet and I was there. Every single day until I went off to Stanford for college, I was there. I did everything he wanted to and more, getting to know the business inside and out. Every single facet of it.
Still, even though I was older now, I still stepped inside the hallowed walls of his private sanctuary, and held my breath as I took it all in. As crazy as it sounded, there was a reverent and almost spiritual air about the place – probably because it was such a forbidden room to me when I was young. It still held some sense of mystery and awe to me. The room was dark, with rich wooden walls and floors, and a massive Cherrywood desk in the center of the room. A wine-colored rug took up most of the floor, and at the helm of it all, his presence as dignified and commanding as ever, was my dad. In his usual spot in the chair behind the desk, surrounded by bookshelves taller than any of us, he gazed at us as we situated ourselves.
There were no photos or any personal items in my dad's office. Something I always thought a little strange. I'd want to be surrounded by my personal effects in my sanctuary. He always said though, his office was a place for work. My dad had never been a very sentimental man and didn't have time to deal with overwrought, emotional drama. He was a no-nonsense, business first, kind of man.
Adam dropped down onto the black leather sofa that sat along the wall, facing Dad. My mom joined Dad behind his desk, her posture perfect, her hand on his shoulder, standing tall. It was like they were posing for a photograph or something. Terrance stood on the other side of my dad, his hands at his side.
They all stared at me as I quickly considered my options. I looked over at the sofa but had no desire to sit next to Adam; not with the way he was sitting there smirking at me. Instead, I chose to remain standing near the front of his desk. Terrance offered me a seat – there were two leather chairs flanking the sides of the desk-- but I shook my head. No, as much as I disliked Adam in that moment, I was determined to avoid making a spectacle of myself.
“I prefer to stand,” I said.
“Very well,” he said.
He nodded gracefully and stepped back to his position beside my father. The circles under my dad's eyes were darker than mine – and I know for certain he hadn't been out drinking the night before.
My dad was a man that never needed more than four hours sleep a night, but it was exceedingly rare to see him looking so tired. His white hair was thinning even more than I'd remembered, and his skin was sallow and thin, as if you could see through it. His eyes were the same blue color as mine, – people often said I looked like a younger version of him. I had the same blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that he'd had in his youth. Given that my dad had been a good looking, strapping young man, I'd always taken it as a compliment.
Dad cleared his throat, and we all stood at attention. Even Adam stood, joining me at the front of the desk as if to hear things clearer, a smug little smile on his face. I really wanted to smack it right off of him. Adam probably thought this had to do with Dad's will, and he, of course, wanted a piece of that. I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes and see him coming up with the list of shit he was going to spend it all on.
“As you're all aware, I saw my doctor last week for some test results,” he said, his voice still strong and commanding. It echoed throughout the room like rolling thunder. “And the results were not good, as we feared.”
Mom's eyes filled with tears and she squeezed his shoulder, wiping away the tears with her other hand. I inched toward her, but she held out a hand, telling me to stop.
As with all things, I obeyed my mother.
“The doctors have found a mass in my brain,” he said. “They believe that it's benign, but because of where it's located, it's impossible to remove.”
I grabbed the corner of my dad's desk, not trusting my legs to keep me from falling over. I felt a churning in my gut and a fluttering in my chest. I'd expected the news to not be good, but actually hearing it coming out of his mouth, confirming my fears still hit me like a runaway train.
“Benign? That means it's not cancerous,” I said. “That's a good thing, right?”
My dad's eyes looked over at me, taking me in carefully before he answered. He took my mother's hand and squeezed it gently before speaking again.
“It's not cancerous, no,” he said. “But, because of where it's located, it will likely cause other issues.”
“Other issues?”
My dad's voice cracked, which rattled me to the core. My father was not an emotional man. I didn't think I'd ever seen him shed a single tear in my entire life. So, to hear his voice crack, to hear it as thick with emotion as it was, made a profound and telling statement to me.
My mom cleared her throat and continued for him. “What your father is trying to say, Malcolm, is based on where the tumor is at, it's likely to eventually cause some mental difficulties for him.”
Mental difficulties. I still didn't understand it all, and it must have been obvious from the look on my face. Perhaps it was shock, or disbelief, but none of it made any sense. It all seemed utterly surreal to me. I shook my head to deny the reality of it all, but when I looked back at them, at their stone-faced stoicism, the ugly reality hit me all over again.
My dad was the strongest man I'd ever known, and nothing – not even a tumor – could take him down. I'd genuinely believed that he was one of those superhuman beings that simply could not be beaten and who could conquer anything set in their path.
I'd watched him start his company from scratch. Watched him build it into a thriving empire, a force to be reckoned with in the pharmaceutical industry. Even when times were tough, during the recession, my dad was strong and stood tall, battling the problems as they came, head-on. He never back down, never gave in, and never once did I see him falter.
Surely this wasn't something he couldn't overcome.
Dad finally found the words. “Malcolm, I'm going to suffer from memory loss, seizures, dementia and eventually death,” he said bluntly, as direct and to the point as ever. “The doctors have given me two years to live—at most-- which means there are preparations and considerations to be made.”
My nails dug into the wood of his desk, scratching it until a splinter pierced my fingernail. The sharp pain radiating through my hand brought me back to the here and now.
“How can it kill you?” I asked. “It's not cancer. I don't understand.”
“Even benign brain tumors can be deadly,” he explained. “The brain is a complex organ, Malcolm.”
Dad's voice was calmer than it should have been for someone who was facing his own death. But, he talked about it rationally and logically, answering all of our questions with grace and aplomb. That's just who he was. Always stoic, professional and strong.
Even when he was coming face-to-face with his mortality.
“It can't be cured, but it does mean I have more time that I would if it had been malignant, Malcolm,” he said. “And knowing I have a short shelf life has made me realize something very important. I've spent so much time running my business, making money, and trying to leave a legacy behind, that I've neglected those who matter most to me – my family. With the clock ticking, I'm focusing on what’s most important – the people in this very room.”
“You've always been an amazing father,” I said. “You have nothing to atone for. Nothing to prove to any of us.”
Adam side-eyed me, but kept his mouth shut. He hadn't said a single word since Dad mentioned the diagnosis, and I finally glanced over at him. He was standing up straight, his body stiff, but he was otherwise calm. His face was passive. If anything, he looked – bored.
It was as if my father's words had no effect on him. Maybe he'd inherited my father's stoicism, or maybe he actually didn't care about my dad. Our dad. It was hard to tell, and I tried not to make any rash judgements in the heat of an emotional moment. But, seeing him there, silent and relaxed, caused my blood to boil from the inside out. I wanted to lash out, grab him, and get his face. I wanted to scream at him, asking him what in the hell was wrong with him.
I did none of that though. I simply stood there, trying to let the profound implications of this news sink in.
“Family has always been important to me, just as it was to my own father before me,” Dad continued. “I've been neglecting my family legacy. Which is why I make one request, and only one request, from you, my sons.”
“Anything, Dad,” I said. Adam, of course, said nothing.
“I have approximately two years left on this earth,” he said. “I need to know I'm leaving a legacy behind, a strong Crane lineage that will continue long after I'm dead.”
Adam adjusted his footing, shifting on the balls of his feet. In his view, things were suddenly getting interesting.
“Which brings me to the topic of your inheritance, sons,” he said. “I would rather not wait until after my death to share my wealth with the two of you, but I need to be sure of one thing – that the Crane legacy lives on and is strong, and will be, well beyond the two of you, my only children.”
“What's that supposed to mean, Dad?”
Adam asked the question that was eating at me, but I'd learned long ago to never rush my father along when he was talking. It was always best to let him spell things out in his own time. He'd eventually come to the point. Adam, though, hadn't had the same experience.
“It means,” my dad sat up tall in his seat, and his voice grew firmer, “that I expect both of my sons to give me grandchildren while I'm still capable of appreciating them. Before I lose my senses and don't have the ability to remember any of you, let alone my grandkids. Doctors say that can be anywhere from nine months to a year from now, maybe longer. But, he also said to not count on it, that it was a very fluid timeline.”
Adam scoffed, and I remained perfectly still, studying my father's face very carefully.
My half-brother said, “Nine months?” he asked, his voice colored with disdain. “You do realize how long it takes to have a child, right?”
My dad's gaze drifted from me over to Adam, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at him. My mom stiffened and stared down at Adam as if she'd forgotten he was there. Call it selective memory. Both of my parents seem disturbed by his bluntness, and while I couldn't blame them, I was glad someone came out and asked the hard questions. I was even more glad that it wasn't me.
Dad's voice rumbled through the office, “Well, you better start trying then, shouldn't you?”
Terrance cleared his throat and opened a file on the desk in front of him. He pulled out a couple sheets of paper and slipped both Adam and myself a copy of Dad's last will and testament. Just seeing the words at the top of the page sent a jagged bolt of pain through my heart that I wasn't ready to deal with. “I'd encourage you two to look everything over,” Terrance said. “And if you have any questions, you can call me anytime. I'll help you through all the legalese and get you pointed in the right direction.”
Dad stood with mom's help. “That should be all, thank you Terrance,” he said. “Let me walk you out.”
The two men walked around the desk, and dad patted me on the back as he passed on the way to the door. Before he passed me completely though, he leaned close and whispered in my ear.
“It's about time you put a ring on that young lady's finger and a baby in her belly anyway,” he said and gave me a wink.
Danielle. He meant Danielle. Fuck me. He didn't know.
Dad and Terrance left the office, leaving the three of us alone. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, still not able to absorb everything that had just been said. Still not able to absorb the inevitability of my dad's impending death.
“Mom, he can't be serious.”
“Oh, but he is, Malcolm,” she said. “He's wanted grandchildren forever, but we figured he had plenty of time. Shows what we know. This diagnosis obviously changes everything.”
Granted, I'd always wanted children of my own. Someday. I'd assumed that one day, Danielle and I would get married and have a bunch of kids. That dream had come crashing down in a flaming heap around me though. There was no way I would ever produce a child with her after what she'd done. Not even if she begged me to take her back. Never again.
“Did you read the rest of the contract?” Adam said. “If we don't give the old man what he wants, we forfeit our right to any inheritance. And if one of us succeeds, the winner gets it all. The whole shebang.”
“But if you both succeed,” mom countered, glaring at Adam with open hostility, “you split everything fifty-fifty, with Malcolm getting ownership of Crane Enterprises, and Adam enough shares to be a controlling member.”
That was it. I slammed my fists down on the desk, anger and outrage coursing through me.
“You mean, I have to get a girl knocked up to take control of the company I've been working for my entire life?” I asked.
“Hush, we'll talk later,” mom said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but she stepped around the desk and took my hands in hers. She met my eyes and I knew she was trying to tell me something. Hell, she didn't even have to say the words, I knew what she was telling me.
I needed to do this. I needed to be the head of the company. It couldn't go into Adam's scheming little hands, not if we wanted my father's legacy to live on. If the company went to Adam, he'd destroy it. Piece by piece, he'd run the company my father built with his own two hands into the ground.
“There are other ways to have a child, one that doesn't involve love and marriage, Malcolm.”
Her voice was low and careful, her gaze steady on mine. Adam wasn't paying attention to us. He was reading the will, no doubt going through a mental list of names of women he could knock up. My mom cut a quick glance at him and then turned back to me, careful to keep her voice low.
“The woman does not need to be part of the family, Malcolm,” she said. “So, you can – ”
“Knock some girl up you meet in the bar,” Adam said, leaning against Dad's desk casually. “Easy peasy if you ask me. I should have an ankle biter running around for the old man in no time.”
I cringed, and my mom scowled, a look of pure hatred on her face when she looked at Adam. But, I had to give her credit – she stayed quiet. She didn't counter Adam's obnoxiousness in the least and bit back the scathing replies I knew were on the tip of her tongue.
Instead of lashing out at him, she continued speaking to me, “Surrogacy is also an option. Your father just wants grandchildren to carry on his name and legacy,” she said. “We can look into agencies for you.”
I nodded, but my insides were churning, and I felt like they were eating me alive. I was going to be a father, sooner than I'd ever imagined. Sooner than I wanted. By surrogacy or some other method, I was going to have a baby.
There was no way I could let my legacy, my company – everything I worked my ass off for all these years – to fall into the hands of another. Especially somebody so reckless and irresponsible as my brother; somebody who didn't know the company the way I did. Somebody who didn't care about it the way I did.
He might have been my brother, and he was owed his inheritance by right of his birth, but I'd worked for my father since I was fifteen years old, sacrificing so much, so that I could stand at the head of this company. There was no way in hell I was going to let someone take that away from me just because he could impregnate some random woman.
“I got this, mom,” I said.
My voice sounded calmer than I felt. I gave her hand a quick squeeze before picking up the documents, and ushered her out of the room, leaving me alone with Adam. He seemed smug, arrogant, and overly confident. He was smirking as we left my dad's office. Danielle stood up as we walked down the hall and stepped into the parlor, and she walked over to me.
I walked by her, not even listening to what she had to say. My mother fell into step beside me, leaving Danielle in the parlor with Adam.