“Fine, go for it.”
“Mom and Dad didn’t want you to be doing this.” Patrick told her, his voice raising. “They wanted you to go back to grad school. They wanted you to get a specialized degree and work at a museum. That’s why they set up all those stipulations with the estate.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, but she refused to acknowledge her sadness by wiping her face. She blinked several times, trying to dry out the unshed pools that remained. “I know,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice any louder.
After the death of their parents, Patrick and Lizzie had had even more unwelcome news. Their parents had changed their will in the way they’d threatened. Graduating college with a degree in art history, she’d discovered jobs were few and far between, most requiring advanced studies. Every entry-level job required at least six months unpaid intern experience. She’d stayed in her college town, working part-time, interning part-time, and relying on her parents’ resources for the rest of her funds. After a year, they had had enough and demanded she move back in to come up with a better plan.
“Lizzie, I want more for you,” Patrick continued. “I don’t want you to be working yourself to the bone. And I still don’t love that you stayed there. I get it. You needed time but I don’t think it’s helping.”
Pressing her lips together, she didn’t reply. Explaining how much St. Simons meant to her wouldn’t change his mind. It didn’t matter that she’d discovered she had a knack for events. Her love of details, her love of people, and her love of organization made her a natural. When she’d been promoted from part-time to full-time planner, her parents threw a fit. They wanted her to be a curator not a party planner. They’d threatened that she’d be cut out of the will if she wasn’t working or studying in her field, or if she made less than sixty thousand dollars a year.
At the time, she’d laughed off the threats. It wasn’t like her healthy, fit parents were going anywhere any time soon. She’d convince them to come around and realize how good she was at her job. She had no fears about being entirely cut out. Until tragedy struck and they were gone and what they’d threatened had turned out to be true. Only their will made everything worse.
Instead of leaving everything to Patrick and his kids, they’d cut him out as well if Lizzie didn’t comply. Patrick’s kids’ inheritance had been safely tied into trusts for them, but Patrick’s and Lizzie’s would be donated to charity.
“I’ve been stalling with the lawyers for you for months. You’re still not making the salary and if you’re not going to lose out on the inheritance, you need to start applying to grad schools. They want this closed out by September,” he said, his voice weary and exhausted.
She let out a sigh. She and Patrick had grown-up as foils to each other. They loved each other and would remain loyal no matter what. Putting Patrick in the middle of the settlement of the estate served no good purpose. The friendship they’d built up as adults came under attack by their own parents. She hated what they’d done, but she hated that they were gone more.
“I just wish they were here. I know they would have come around in time.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you would have left. Living on that island was their dream, not yours.” She heard the renewed purpose in his voice and could imagine he’d begun to pace the room. He’d never been one for sitting still with a problem. “Don’t you remember when they moved when you were in college? You were so mad you wouldn’t even go visit that first Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said, the memory wiping away the lingering sadness of her circumstances. “My one and only rebellious moment. And then Dad flew up and rented a car and drove me down. You know, some of my favorite moments with him where on that sixteen-hour trip. He talked to me and he listened to
“Mom and Dad didn’t want you to be doing this.” Patrick told her, his voice raising. “They wanted you to go back to grad school. They wanted you to get a specialized degree and work at a museum. That’s why they set up all those stipulations with the estate.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, but she refused to acknowledge her sadness by wiping her face. She blinked several times, trying to dry out the unshed pools that remained. “I know,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice any louder.
After the death of their parents, Patrick and Lizzie had had even more unwelcome news. Their parents had changed their will in the way they’d threatened. Graduating college with a degree in art history, she’d discovered jobs were few and far between, most requiring advanced studies. Every entry-level job required at least six months unpaid intern experience. She’d stayed in her college town, working part-time, interning part-time, and relying on her parents’ resources for the rest of her funds. After a year, they had had enough and demanded she move back in to come up with a better plan.
“Lizzie, I want more for you,” Patrick continued. “I don’t want you to be working yourself to the bone. And I still don’t love that you stayed there. I get it. You needed time but I don’t think it’s helping.”
Pressing her lips together, she didn’t reply. Explaining how much St. Simons meant to her wouldn’t change his mind. It didn’t matter that she’d discovered she had a knack for events. Her love of details, her love of people, and her love of organization made her a natural. When she’d been promoted from part-time to full-time planner, her parents threw a fit. They wanted her to be a curator not a party planner. They’d threatened that she’d be cut out of the will if she wasn’t working or studying in her field, or if she made less than sixty thousand dollars a year.
At the time, she’d laughed off the threats. It wasn’t like her healthy, fit parents were going anywhere any time soon. She’d convince them to come around and realize how good she was at her job. She had no fears about being entirely cut out. Until tragedy struck and they were gone and what they’d threatened had turned out to be true. Only their will made everything worse.
Instead of leaving everything to Patrick and his kids, they’d cut him out as well if Lizzie didn’t comply. Patrick’s kids’ inheritance had been safely tied into trusts for them, but Patrick’s and Lizzie’s would be donated to charity.
“I’ve been stalling with the lawyers for you for months. You’re still not making the salary and if you’re not going to lose out on the inheritance, you need to start applying to grad schools. They want this closed out by September,” he said, his voice weary and exhausted.
She let out a sigh. She and Patrick had grown-up as foils to each other. They loved each other and would remain loyal no matter what. Putting Patrick in the middle of the settlement of the estate served no good purpose. The friendship they’d built up as adults came under attack by their own parents. She hated what they’d done, but she hated that they were gone more.
“I just wish they were here. I know they would have come around in time.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you would have left. Living on that island was their dream, not yours.” She heard the renewed purpose in his voice and could imagine he’d begun to pace the room. He’d never been one for sitting still with a problem. “Don’t you remember when they moved when you were in college? You were so mad you wouldn’t even go visit that first Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie said, the memory wiping away the lingering sadness of her circumstances. “My one and only rebellious moment. And then Dad flew up and rented a car and drove me down. You know, some of my favorite moments with him where on that sixteen-hour trip. He talked to me and he listened to
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