The three hundred or so assorted family and friends still partying at the town hall were overwhelmed by the news that Abraham had a daughter. But never let it be said that the members of the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness couldn’t rise to the occasion and welcome a newcomer into the fold.
Literally.
They closed in, encircling Annie in a warm, loving, sugary sweet human sandwich as they plied her with good wine and platefuls of delectable treats, then began peppering her with nosy questions and sentimental stories.
After twenty minutes, Annie was able to catch my eye. I almost laughed at her unmasked look of sheer terror. She was in serious danger of frying from happy face overload. I took pity on her and worked my way through the crowd to rescue her, but I was too late. My mother had cleverly intervened. She assured everyone they’d have their chance for a one-on-one heart-to-heart with Annie, then tucked her firmly under her wing and whisked her away to our house.
It was pretty much guaranteed I was about to inherit a third sister. I needed another sibling the way I needed a sixth toe. Or a twelfth toe. You know, an extra one on each foot. Never mind.
Three hours later, as the lights of the City cast a foggy glow on San Francisco Bay, I headed west on Highway 37 toward home. I gripped the steering wheel and tried to concentrate on the road. It wasn’t easy and it had nothing to do with the darkness or the fog. No, I was blown away by the fact that I was six million dollars wealthier than I’d been this morning.
Six. Million. Dollars.
Except for a generous bequest to his housekeeper and assorted knickknacks to friends plus a few rare books to Guru Bob, Abraham had left his entire estate to me.
Me. I got it all. His house, his business, his library of books and papers, his portfolio of property and stock investments, which, his lawyer hastened to assure me, were extensive.
The daughter of his heart, he’d called me in his will. After hearing that, I’d run through the rest of my packet of tissues.
After the will was read, my father had to hold me up as we walked outside. I was in a daze. I had to escape. I couldn’t go to my family’s house. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially Annie.
As soon as I’d promised my dad I’d call when I got home, I jumped in my car and escaped Dharma. I felt guilty leaving but knew it would only get worse if I had to look into Annie’s sad eyes and know she was wondering what might’ve happened, if only.
If only her mother hadn’t lied. If only Abraham were alive.
It was obvious Abraham hadn’t had a clue Annie existed until a few days before he died. Her name was never mentioned in the will.
I shook my head as I swung onto the 101, still in shock over the full disclosure of Abraham’s net worth. I knew property values in Sonoma were high and everyone who’d invested in the commune and Dharma had made money over the years, thanks to smart fiscal planning by Guru Bob and my dad and a few others.
Naturally, Guru Bob had presented a cosmically correct reason for making sound investments since the more money one had, the less negativity one suffered. Maybe that theory didn’t translate out in the real world, but in Dharma, people were pretty darn happy and grateful most of the time. At least, that was the goal. But just in case they forgot, Guru Bob was always there to remind them to be joyful, damn it.
So, Abraham was loaded. Who knew? And I was in a quandary. What was I supposed to do with Abraham’s stuff now that Annie was in the picture?
I could sign his house over to her. I didn’t need a house in Dharma. There was no mortgage to worry about and Annie might be happy to live there once her mother was gone. She might enjoy the small community that would envelop her as one of their own. But that was a decision she probably didn’t want to think about for a while.
It was too much for me to think about right now, too. As I hit the bridge, then drove through the Fast Track lane at the bridge toll plaza, I made up my mind to call a family meeting next week. My sibs and parents would probably agree that Annie should have Abraham’s house. I would also find a way to give her some money or a portion of the investments. I didn’t think she’d care about Abraham’s books or his business as much as I did.
My brother Jackson, always the pragmatic one, would insist that Annie undergo a paternity test. So would the lawyers. But if anyone had a doubt that she and Abraham were related, they’d just have to look at all that hair.
The poor girl would need a chunk of Abraham’s money just to support the hair products she’d require for the rest of her life. And I think Abraham would be pleased to know she was roaming around in that big house of his.
I dashed away the tears. I couldn’t afford to lose it right now, not when this portion of 101 twisted and narrowed as I drove through the Presidio toward the Marina district. And not while a gas-guzzling SUV was zooming too fast toward me. It stayed right on my tail, flashing its brights to effectively blind me.
I had a moment to wonder whether this was just your everyday jackass or someone so angry that they’d actually threaten me on the open road, before they gunned their engine and roared past, kicking up road dirt and tiny rocks that pinged against my windshield.
I let out a breath. Just your everyday jackass, after all. But I was seriously tired of being frightened to death at every turn. And now that Annie was in the picture, my determination to find Abraham’s murderer took a seismic leap. I wouldn’t give up until the bastard was brought to justice.
I’d been home ten minutes when someone knocked at the door, and then I heard my neighbor Vinnie call out, “Halloo, Brooklyn? You are home?”
Oh no. I’d forgotten to feed the cats this morning. Were they dead?
I hurried to the front door, only to discover I’d left it unlocked. Vinnie was poking her head inside, looking around.
“Come in,” I said. Had I truly been so distracted I hadn’t locked my door? How dumb was that?
Vinnie walked in holding a straggly green plant in a pot. “We wish to thank you for taking good care of Pookie and Splinters.” She bowed her head slightly, then handed me the pot. “We are so grateful.”
“Oh, how pretty.” I took the plant and bowed before I could stop myself. “But I didn’t… ”
Was I really going to confess to neglecting her beloved felines? Um, no.
“You didn’t need to do this,” I said feebly. “The cats were great. No problem at all.”
“It meant so much that you cared for them,” she said. “They are our children. Suzie worried all weekend.”
The door opened and Suzie sauntered in. “Yo, hey, Brooks.”
“Hey, Suzie.”
She thrust out her knuckles and I bumped mine against hers. She was such a guy. She wore tight jeans and a black T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off to reveal a tattoo on her upper arm of a snake wound around a woman’s curvy leg. Her bleached hair was chopped and spiked and she had a dozen tiny steel hoops hanging from each ear. Vinnie gazed at her in adoration.
Suzie jerked her thumb toward the plant. “Thing needs some CPR. It was trapped in the car for five hours. Just water it. It’ll come back.”
Vinnie beamed. “Yes, it will be so pretty, we promise. It is a stargazer lily. It already has a few buds ready to flower. You will be pleased, I think.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” I promised.
“Come on, babe,” Suzie said, grabbing Vinnie’s arm. “Thanks again, pal.”
“Anytime,” I said. I carefully locked the door behind them, then stared at the lily and sighed. It would be dead within forty-eight hours. I might not be great with pets, but I was even worse with plants. No matter what I did or how much care I gave it, it would die. Really, I was only safe around books. Books I could take care of. Living things, not so much.
I left my house at seven thirty Monday morning, determined to get an early start at the Covington.