Read Online Slightly Imperfect by Dar Tomlinson - Free Book Online Page B

head.
    "Maggie tells me you're divorced now," Gerald said.
    "Yes, sir. She tells me the same thing."
    "Well, water under the bridge."
    Zac looked out the window and tried to listen, to accept Gerald's words as truth.

    "How's the job market? Any luck?"
    "I can always fish through the temporary service over at the docks." He entertained memory of the Ramona Dos pitching gently in gray-blue water, his father firing the engine as Zac released the tie ropes. "I went to the cannery today and filled out an application. I don't know how that will come out, considering I walked out on them once, when all hell broke loose, when Carron was so sick at the end. It was in my record." He tried to smile, to negate the regret of his former actions.
    "Did you explain the circumstances?"
    "Yeah, I did. Somehow it came out sounding like an excuse."
    Gerald nodded knowingly. "You might mention my name."
    "Thank you sir, but my real goal is to get a boat. My father's doing a lot better. I could take him fishing, when he feels like it. I think that would go a long way toward his recovery."
    "Son, your father may have had all the recovery he's going to have. You shouldn't get your hopes up. He's not a young man." The voice was kind. "I know. I'm only a few years behind him."
    "Yes, sir, but I still want to take him fishing. I'll settle for the way he is, for as long as I can keep him. I have a plan for a boat, but I need income now, to tide me over."
    "Well, I'm not going to waste your time lecturing you about things you already know." It sounded decisive, final.
    Gerald opened a desk drawer and took out a file. From where Zac sat, he could see his full name on the label. He sat up straighter, planted his cowboy boots firmly on the plush carpet, his elbows on the chair arms; his body pitched forward a little. His heart moved to his ears.
    "Right after the funeral, Carron's lawyers called me," Gerald said. "They asked what I wanted to do with the will Carron had been in the process of drawing up." His eyes bored into Zac's. "Actually, she was finished, all but refining a few rough spots, but she never got to sign it. She died on Sunday... as you know. She would have signed it on Monday."
    Zac nodded, hesitantly. The story wasn't new.
    "The lawyers assumed I would want the will trashed, as her mother and I were her sole legal heirs. They didn't speak too highly of you and the way they'd judged the gist of the whole thing. Carron's and your... association."
    The lawyer's opinion lined up with what Zac had imagined. He nodded automatically now.
    "However, Carron had left a letter addressed to me, which they felt obligated to give me. The way she spoke of you in that letter overrode anything those bastards told me." He opened the file, picked up a pink envelope with a rusty colored scrawl across it. "Do you want to read this?"
    "No." The quickness of his reply, the jolting pain, caught him off guard. He saw it surprised Gerald as well. "No, thank you, sir. I'll take your word for it."
    "I understand. It was hard for me too. Someday maybe," Gerald said kindly. "If you ever want to read it, you let me know."
    Zac nodded, his gut curdling.
    "We'll cut to the chase, son. The sole purpose of Carron's letter was to beg me not to contest the will she fully believed would be in place when she died. She wanted you to have everything, lock, stock and barrel. I don't know if you know how much money there is—how much property. She indicated the two of you never discussed it in detail."
    Zac shook his head. "I never wanted to know."
    "Yes, well..." He lowered his eyes, raised them, began again. "Carron's grandfather was wealthy beyond reason. He was active on Wall Street, and he had property all over New York State. He left everything to her and her brother. When her brother died, his share went to her. It's yours, son. Use it in good health."
    Stunned, Zac said quickly, "No, sir. But, thank you."
    Gerald laughed. He closed the file and gave in to the apparent