Chapter 8

Derek

Amy and I had breakfast with my father Saturday morning. I could tell that he was elated, and he kept sending Amy little smiles that he probably thought I wouldn’t notice. The plan was working. She had done well.

I had never seen my father in such a high mood. Part of me celebrated, believing I was finally doing something that would please him. The other part felt guilty, knowing that lying to him was not admirable.

But seeing him so happy did much to reassure me that I was doing the best thing that I could do, so I shoved my doubts aside and enjoyed my father’s happiness.

After breakfast, my father informed us that he was meeting with his lawyer for some business. It was most likely regarding the will, I realized. Which meant that, very possibly, he had changed his mind.

I was giving Amy a tour of the mansion, which had more rooms than I had ever counted. Endless guest bedrooms, each fully furnished, a collection room here and there, some storage.

“Has there ever been a time where all the bedrooms were filled up?” Amy asked. Today, she was wearing a short, dark blue skirt, and a black tank-top that hugged her nicely and provided a generous view of her breasts. She was skipping a few steps ahead of me, excitement radiating from her with every bouncy step. It was contagious. Regarding her, I felt her delight spreading through me.

“Not even close,” I said. “Probably the fullest this house has ever been was my father’s retirement. Hundreds of guests, but only a handful, maybe twenty, spent the night. Not even half of the bedrooms were filled up.”

“Jesus. Then why have them?”

I shrugged. “What else would we use the rooms for?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Amy turned to me, walking backwards. “Why get such a big house if you’re not going to fill it up?”

“My father and I have a fundamental difference in how we use our money,” I explained. “If he has it, he spends it. He could afford a mansion this size, so that’s what he purchased. Never mind that he didn’t need all this space. It’s a show of wealth, I suppose.”

“That makes sense. I mean, I’m not faulting him at all. I think the property is absolutely beautiful. I would die to live somewhere like this. I’m more worried about how lonely it is.”

“Lonely?”

Amy looked a little flustered. “I don’t want to overstep or anything. I’m just talking. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a filter and I say whatever comes to mind sometimes.”

I laughed. “Amy, you’re fine. I enjoy listening to you. Your honesty is what caught my attention in the first place. Please continue.”

“Okay. Well.” Amy turned back around. “I’m not talking badly about your father at all. Everyone is lonely in their own way. This is just such a big house for him to be all alone in. I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t be able to bear the silence. I guess I can understand why he can be so irritable, like you were saying.”

I nodded, not having considered that before. “You’re right. I mean, the poor guy was married four times, and none of them ended well. He only had one son, me. He doesn’t have any pets. He dedicated his whole life to the firm, so when he handed that over to me, he didn’t really have anything left.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty sad,” Amy said. “Money buys a lot, but not happiness.”

I thought about her words carefully. Somehow, I had never considered that my father was lonely. Now that Amy had pointed it out, it suddenly seemed like the most obvious thing in the world—which admittedly made me feel foolish. How had Amy, who only met him yesterday, understood my father better than I had after a lifetime together?

“You’re very empathetic,” I commented.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you really understand people. You know what they need.”

“Huh. I never thought about it. I guess. Maybe I’m just observant.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. It’s a valuable trait, and an uncommon one in the business world. People in business don’t tend to be very compassionate. Which doesn’t make sense, given that it’s all about working with people.”

“You know what?” Amy said, a smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’re a lot like me.”

“How so?”

“You overthink things. A lot.”

I laughed. “Maybe. But there’s one thing that I definitely don’t need to overthink.”

“What’s that?” She glanced at me over her shoulder, her eyes curious and innocent.

I smirked, and opened one of the bedroom doors, gesturing for her to follow me. Realization spread over her features, and she was quickly behind me.

Wasting no time, I pushed her up against the wall, my hands eagerly sliding under her tank top. She responded by tangling her fingers in my hair and pulling my mouth to hers, kissing me eagerly. Her lips were soft, and her breath was sweet.

My hands cupped her breasts over her bra. I pressed my hard bulge against her hips, so she could feel how much I desired her, how much I wanted her.

Just then the door swung open, and Aneta’s cheery voice echoed through the room.

“Oh, what a surprise!” she said, seemingly not noticing what we were up to. Amy and I jumped apart. “I was looking for you two. Derek, the package that you were waiting for arrived this morning. It’s in the foyer.”

“Thank you, Aneta.” I smiled politely, taking Amy’s hand.

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome,” she called after us, turning to dust the unused furniture.

“Let’s go back to your room,” Amy said, once we were safe in the hall, her eagerness causing me to laugh.

“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” I said. “But first, I have something for you.”

“What?” She turned to me. “What is it?”

“A surprise. You have to wait and see.”

“Derek. If you got me something—”

“I did.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to. It’s nothing much. Just a little gift to show my appreciation.”

Amy sighed, but looked curious, and a little pleased. For some reason. I was nervous, which didn’t make sense.

We reached the foyer, where the cardboard package was sitting on a table by the door. I handed it to her. She examined it.

“Are you gonna open it or just stare at the box?” I teased.

“I’m trying to guess what it is,” she said.

“And?”

“No clue.”

Sitting down on the floor, she tore the tape off, and opened the package. She sorted through the packing material and pulled out the gift—a camera.

She held it almost reverently in her hands.

“Holy shit.”

I shifted my weight. “Is that one alright? I’m not a photographer. But the people I called said this was one of the best models on the market.”

“I…it…” She just stared at it, then looked up at me. “This camera is like, thousands of dollars. At least. I can’t accept this.”

“The price isn’t a problem.” I crouched next to her. “It’s yours, Amy. I want you to have it. You told me about your dream. Maybe this will help you follow it.”

“That,” she said, “is so cheesy. But really sweet.”

“I do excel in the cheesy, sweet department.”

“Really. It’s… it’s the most amazing gift I have ever received in my entire life. Thank you.”

Her gratitude was sincere. I smiled.

“I want you to understand that I know you’re not doing this for money,” I said. “And that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you a little bit, while you’re here.”

She looked down shyly, but before she could respond, we heard footsteps coming our way. I looked up. Marshall Harrison, my father’s long-term lawyer, was heading toward us. He walked rigidly, dressed in a dark, stiff suit, his expression marked by his permanent sneer. I had never been fond of him.

“Derek,” he said, his tone near condescending. “And this must be the Ms. Parker your father was telling me about.”

“Mr. Harrison,” I responded. “Yes. This is Amy. Amy, this is Marshall Harrison, my father’s attorney.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said hurriedly, sensing the tension. She jumped to her feet to shake his hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled tepidly, any kindness falling flat. The way he was looking at her, in disdain, made me angry.

After staring Amy down for a few uncomfortable moments, he turned his attention to me again. “Your father wishes to speak with you,” he said.

I took Amy’s hand.

“In private,” Marshall said. “It’s regarding legal matters.”

I felt like hitting him, but Amy stepped between us. “I’ll be in our room. I want to figure out this camera, anyway.” She kissed me on the cheek, “Don’t rush.”

I looked between the two of them, then nodded. “Alright.” I didn’t spare Marshall another glance.

I hurried through the mansion, my pace brisk, as I wanted to get back to Amy as quickly as possible. My father’s bedroom was on the top floor.

After I knocked on the door, my father called me in. His voice sounded strange. It sounded almost… giddy, which was highly unusual. I entered cautiously.

My father was sitting at his desk, several papers scattered in front of him. I sat down like a child sitting down in the principal’s office.

“Marshall told me you wanted to speak with me, father,” I said, resting my hands in my lap, one knee bouncing with nerves.

“Oh, yes. He was just here to go over my will with me, make some changes.”

“Oh?” I adjusted the collar of my shirt. Since our argument last week, I assumed the subject of his will would be a tense one. But he was happy, elated, as if he had completely forgotten about it.

“You and your child are to inherit my full estate and belongings,” my father said, tapping the piece of paper in front of him. “After I pass. It’s signed and done.”

“I…” Amy had done her part. Now it was my turn to act. “Father, I… you know that I don’t have any children. We discussed that last week.”

“Yes, last week. I was hoping you wouldn’t bring up that mess. Perhaps we were both a little hasty, and emotional.” My father shrugged. “That is in the past. Now, Amy hasn’t told you, then?”

“Hasn’t told me what?”

He chuckled with a sort of mischievous, youthful glee. “It probably isn’t my place to tell you. To be honest, I thought our talk last night would have been enough to inspire her to talk to you, but it’s understandable.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“Amy’s pregnant, Derek.” He paused, watching for my reaction. I just stared at him, confused and speechless. “She told me last night. She was worried about what you’d think, so she wanted to confide in me first, but I told her that it is, of course, wonderful news.”

“That’s… I…”

“You’re going to be a father, Derek,” he said with glee. “I’m going to be a grandfather!”

I looked up at him, and his happiness buzzed through me like a lightning bolt. The true weight of my lie hit me for the first time, and for a moment, I ached, wishing it were the truth, and that his happiness wasn’t caused by something false. He would pass away before it could ever be confirmed or disproven.

It all seemed to crash into me at once. The guilt. The remorse. My father was going to die, and soon. I had not yet allowed myself to accept this, to deal with that grief. Instead, I had occupied my time by scheming up ways to trick him. For his peace of mind, yes, but also for my own.

Tears came to my eyes before I could stop them. I blinked them away. Not once had I cried in front of my father.

Then, the greatest surprise. He reached across the desk and rested one of his soft, weathered hands on mine. When I looked up at him, he was crying too. But his tears were joyous.

Mine were those of a deceitful son.