Finding Absolution (13 page)

Authors: Carol Lynne

BOOK: Finding Absolution

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How can I be mad at a dead man?

Pete’s phone rang, startling him. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. “Hey.”

“Where’re you at?” John, Pete’s boss and the owner of the landscaping company, asked. “Brent called and told me you left, but that was over thirty minutes ago.”

Pete looked at the clock on the dashboard.
Jesus Christ, how long have I been sitting here?
“Sorry, I just heard some bad news,” he mumbled.

John cleared his throat. “So you heard. Sorry, man, that’s why I wanted to see you. The police called looking for you, but I didn’t want them to get to you first. News like that…”

“Yeah.” Pete swallowed. “So, am I supposed to call the police or something?”

John paused. “David’s body’s already been identified by his secretary. I think the police were just looking to inform the next of kin of his death.”

Pete nodded to himself. It felt weird to hear himself referred to as David’s next of kin. Sure, technically, he was, but David had readily gone along with his father’s wish to have Pete out of the family and their lives. “Okay.”

“They told me if I saw you to have you call David’s lawyer. I’ve got a number right here.”

“Miller, Cambridge and Stone, right?” Pete recited the name of the law firm the Braxton family had used for years.

“No, actually, it’s a man named Matthew Field. He’s got an office out in the ‘burbs somewhere,” John corrected.

Matthew Field.
“I’ll give him a call.”

“You need a few days off?” John asked.

“Not sure yet. I’ll give you a call as soon as I figure it out.” Pete knew he hadn’t processed the news of his brother’s death because he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Was it callous to hate someone who’d just died? “Thanks, John.”

“Call if you need anything,” John said before hanging up.

Pete took several calming breaths before heading home, back to the one bedroom house he shared with Cheddar, a huge, long-haired orange cat.

The minute Pete stepped into the house the cat was there, waiting for him. Cheddar’s favourite means of getting attention was to headbutt Pete’s calf until he got what he wanted. “In a minute,” he said, ripping the napkin from his hand. The cut to his knuckle had dried, but he’d need to get it cleaned up eventually.

He opened the old console stereo he’d bought at a second-hand store down the street and withdrew the yellow-paged phone directory. While searching the attorney section, he was continually assaulted by Cheddar. Pete ripped out the page with Field’s phone number. “Okay, dinner, got it,” he told the cat.

Cheddar let out a mew that sounded more like a cuss word.

Pete rolled his eyes and stuck the page to the fridge with a take-out menu magnet. “Technically, it’s not even time for you to eat, so don’t get all snippy with me.”

Nonplussed by the admonishment, Cheddar sauntered over to his food bowl and plopped onto his side. He stared up at Pete and yawned, evidently trying his damnedest to exert his dominance over the situation.

“Fine, for that, I’m not even going to wash my hands before I get your dinner.” Pete retrieved a can of cat food out of the cabinet and used the easy-open pull. His odd relationship with Cheddar had been his lifeline for years.

Pete filled the chipped pottery food bowl and rubbed his companion behind the ears. “Okay, I’m not mad anymore.”

Cheddar didn’t bother looking up from his dinner, obviously unconcerned with Pete’s mood when he had a bowl of flaked tuna and cheese in front of him. Cats definitely weren’t meant for people who suffered from low self-esteem. Pete loved Cheddar, but other than the occasional purr and rub against him, his beloved pet rarely gave more than a sympathetic ear. Well, two, but most of the time Pete felt Cheddar was only half listening to him.

“So, my brother died last night,” Pete informed his furry friend while getting a beer out of the fridge. “I haven’t seen David in…hell, nearly eight years.” He glanced down at Cheddar. “It was before you came along, so no need for you to feel jealous. I saw him at a restaurant on The Plaza. I looked up from my twenty-first birthday celebrative steak dinner to find him standing five feet away from my table. At first I thought he was glad to see me, but just as quickly, he shut down and turned away.”

Pete upended his can and walked to the living room, leaving Cheddar to finish his dinner in peace. The recliner he’d picked up on Craig’s List fit his ass perfectly. It was an ugly gold colour and beyond its prime, but it was his. He grabbed the remote and turned on the local news. As a landscaper, the most important segment had always been the weather, but he barely heard the teaser the meteorologist gave at the top of the hour about the chance of precipitation coming up in the extended forecast.

When a publicity picture of his brother came on screen, Pete sat transfixed.
Older.
David looked so much older, like the life—the vitality—had been sucked right out of him. Is that what running a multi-million dollar investment firm did to a person, or could it have something to do with trying to live up to his father’s demands? Not that dear old Dad was demanding much since his death three years earlier.

Pete had also heard that tidbit on the news. Although he hadn’t gone to the funeral, he’d hoped that David would reach out to him. Of course, that hadn’t happened. It seemed their father hadn’t been the barrier between them after all.

Instead, Pete had briefly mourned the loss of his father before moving on with his life. His millionaire father had thrust him into the world of the working poor only a month after Pete’s mother had died. As a college freshman who had never before held a job, it hadn’t been easy for Pete to take the five thousand dollar check he’d been given by his dad’s attorney and start a new life, but he’d done it.

Looking around the living room, Pete studied the cracks in the ceiling and the walls that could use a fresh coat of paint. It was nothing like the 1920’s mansion he’d grown up in, but he’d bought it with his own money after saving for over five years. He’d always referred to his six hundred and thirty square foot bungalow as the house that desperation built.

Cheddar jumped onto his lap and began making an imaginary nest for himself. Pete ran his hand down Cheddar’s back, soothing his huge companion into settling down. The day he’d closed on the house, a matted ball of orange fur had been waiting for him under the front porch. It had taken Pete a good two hours to discern where the mew was coming from, but using a flashlight, he’d finally found the kitten and had lured him out with the only thing he’d had on hand, a slice of cheese. It hadn’t been cheddar cheese, but cheese was a stupid name for a cat. Of course, most people thought Cheddar was just as dumb, but the moment he’d held that kitten in his arms, the name had come to him and had stuck.

“And here you are.” Pete grinned. If anyone had told him he’d turn into a cat lover, he’d have punched them, but Cheddar totally had control of the largely unused organ that had been shredded by people who were supposed to love him. “You love me, don’t you?”

Cheddar didn’t bother to open his eyes at the question. Despite the cat’s current indifference, Pete knew Cheddar loved him. Several months earlier, Pete had come down with a wicked case of the flu, and for nearly a week, Cheddar hadn’t left his side, even forgoing his daily prowl of the yard.

The phone rang, prompting Pete to mute the television. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t watching it anyway. “Hello?”

“Peter Braxton?” a deep voice asked.

“Yeah.”

“This is Matthew Field.”

“Yes, John told me to call you,” Pete answered. “I found your number in the book, but I figured I’d just call you tomorrow.”

“Yes, and under normal circumstances, I would’ve waited at least a week to contact you, but unfortunately, David left you everything.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Field, but that doesn’t make any sense. David hated me.” Saying it aloud stung, but Pete had to level with the man.

“Call me Matthew. And David was very specific when he came in and drafted his will. I know this may be hard for you to understand, but I think he was trying to right some wrongs.”

“Maybe he shoulda done it while he was still alive. I could’ve gone anywhere after they kicked me out, but I chose to make my life here in case David changed his mind. Now you call and tell me he wanted to make things right? Sorry, I don’t buy it.” Pete took a deep breath. It wasn’t Matthew’s fault, and he needed to remember that.

“I’ve been David’s friend for years, and even I don’t know why he cut you out like he did. He refused to talk about it, but he does have a sealed envelope here with your name on it. If nothing else, maybe that’ll explain something.” Matthew cleared his throat. “There’s something else. David had a dog.”

“A dog? You are talking about David James Braxton, right?” Pete couldn’t imagine the David he’d grown up with owning and caring for a pet, especially a stinky dog.

“Hard to believe, but he fell in love with an English Bulldog at our fraternity house at school and decided to get one after your father’s death.”

“And you want me to head over to his house to take care of the dog,” Pete surmised. The last thing Pete wanted to do was get out again, but he couldn’t stand the thought of the dog crapping all over his mom’s house. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Julie. She’s white with a few small patches of light brown.”

Pete stared down at Cheddar. He couldn’t imagine bringing a dog into Cheddar’s territory. “You wanna dog?” he asked Matthew.

“Sorry. My kids are allergic. Besides, according to David’s will, the dog has to stay with the house.”

“I’ve got a house,” Pete said. “The entire thing may be able to fit into the foyer of the Braxton Mansion, but it’s mine.”

“And so is the Braxton Mansion,” Matthew reminded Pete. “I know David’s death’s come as a shock, but there’re a lot of people who depend on your family to make a living. With your father and David both gone there are certain decisions you’ll have to make.”

“I’m not an investment banker,” Pete growled, losing his temper. “Never had the training, thanks to my father.”

When Matthew didn’t reply, Pete knew he’d sounded like a spoilt child. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that,” he apologised.

“It’s okay. It’s been a rough day for both of us. If you’ll meet me at the house, I can give you the keys and codes.”

“Yeah, sure. Give me twenty minutes.” Pete hung up. “Sorry, Cheddar, but I have to go out.” He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with David’s dog, but he had no plans of staying the night.

“I’ll be back before you miss me,” he said, grabbing his keys and ball cap on the way out of the door.

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About the Author

An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance. Carol juggles between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. These days, you can usually find Carol either cleaning jelly out of the carpet or nestled in her favourite chair writing steamy love scenes.

Email:
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