He leans in and drops a kiss on each of my cheeks before he gives me a hug. He’s much older than me, so we’re not what I would call close, though I’ve always liked him. Tall and imposing, Grant is the oldest son of my uncle Reggie. And he’s currently studying me as if he can tell I’m drunk and agitated, which I am.
“I’m wonderful,” I tell him, my voice falsely bright. “I heard you recently got married.”
“Six months ago now, yes.” He rubs absently at the platinum band around his left ring finger.
“Congratulations. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it to the wedding.” I was still dealing with the aftermath of my husband’s death and didn’t feel it was right to be seen in public, celebrating when my husband was dead and gone.
“I was sorry to hear about your husband.” His gaze and tone are somber, showing me respect.
He might be a mean and moody Lancaster male, but it feels like our generation has softened a bit. They’re not as mean, not as fierce as our fathers.
“Thank you.” I nod, trying to keep my expression solemn, but it’s no use. I cave and finish off the whiskey.
“I knew your husband. Did he ever mention that to you?” He tilts his head, sending me a questioning look
I go still, staring at Grant. He has that same Lancaster look as the rest of us. The only exception is his hair is darker. “No, I don’t recall him ever mentioning it.”
“Finn and I handled a lot of his real estate transactions the last few years,” Grant explains, referring to his younger brother. “Before we…lost him.”
What a sweet way to put it. As if Earl is merely wandering around the city, confused and unable to find his way home.
“He didn’t own much real estate that I know of.”
“Only because he was selling off so much of it,” Grant says, his brows knitting together. “Did he not tell you that? We unloaded a lot of properties for him the last three years or so. He made a lot of money too.”
Interesting, considering he wasn’t what I would consider liquid when he passed. I was even accused of hiding all of his assets at one point by his children, which was laughable. “I wouldn’t know, since I wasn’t in his will.”
“Are you serious?”
“As if I need the money, Grant. We’re Lancasters, remember?” I arch a brow.
He chuckles. “True. It’s just—he told us repeatedly he needed cash. That’s why he got rid of so much real estate. I didn’t think anything of it in the moment. People do that sort of thing all the time, but now…”
“Now what?”
“If he didn’t have much cash in the bank when he passed away, where did it all go?”
Hmm.
Good question.
SEVEN
SYLVIE
Oh,I’m really drunk. All those neat little whiskeys sent me right over the edge, to the point that I’m swaying by the side of the dance floor as I watch everyone lose themselves to the beat, the music flooding my veins.
Or is that the alcohol?
Harry Styles himself performed earlier, singing a slower version of “Adore You” while Summer swayed in Whit’s arms, their gazes for each other and no one else. He’s actually still here, out on the dance floor and surrounded by mostly women. Even Summer is dancing near him, laughing every time Whit glares at her.
Which is often.
Carolina is on the dance floor in our father’s arms, elegant and graceful as she twirls and twirls. My father eyeing her as if he can’t quite believe she is his daughter.
I mean, I get it. Sometimes it does feel like Carolina came to us her own little person, fully formed at birth and immensely talented from the get-go. She never seemed to fit in with the rest of us.
Do any of us fit into the supposed family ideal though? I’m starting to think no.