Page 40 of The Heart You Kept

Poor Dad.

“It’s okay,” I try to reassure him. “I’ll take some time off and we’ll go to France and figure it out. I’ll help, it’s okay.”

He sniffs and my heart breaks, he was his only sibling and the last person alive in his family. We were all so close with him. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” he lies.

My eyes well with tears. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Sorry to ruin your weekend away.”

It was already ruined.

“Don’t be silly. See you soon.” I hang up as I visualize my beautiful Uncle Edgar, so enigmatic and eccentric, always laughing and the life of the party.

The lump in my throat begins to hurt as I glance at my watch.

I need to get home.

THREE WEEKS LATER.

“To my brother Kelvin Sorenson, who I love with all of my heart, I leave my villa in Paris, my estate in London and my car and jewelry collection.” My dad shakes his head in disbelief.

The lawyer looks over the top of his glasses. “To my nephew River, I leave my home in Beverly Hills in Los Angeles.” We gasp, oh my god, that is worth millions.

“To my niece Raylyn, I leave my apartment in Manhattan in New York.” Our eyes widen.

“And to my niece Alora I leave her my entire antique collection and my terrace house in Mont Boron, Nice, in France.”

We all exchange glances, is this for real?

“I leave you all a twenty-five percent share of my home in the Hamptons; it is my hope that you use it as a family vacation haven together. Please know how much I love you all. See you on the other side.”

Oh my god.

The car pulls up at an old run-down factory building and my dad, River and Raylyn and I all frown at each other in question. “He must have rented a storage unit inside of it.” Dad shrugs.

“Yes, he rented a space,” the lawyer replies with a heavy French accent from the driver’s seat. He parks the car and we climb out, we wait while he fumbles through the biggest key ring I have ever seen. Eventually he opens a huge, rusty roller door and we all stare in, clueless to what we are even looking at. There’s an entire factory packed to the rafters with all kinds of random things and antiques. Stuff is hanging from the ceiling and things are stacked dangerously high on top of each other.

My eyes flick to the lawyer. “What’s this?”

“Antiques.”

“Yes, but which ones were his?”

He holds his hands up. “All.”

“All,” Raylyn and I say in unison.

“All?” My father gasps as he looks around. “Surely not.”

“Yes.” He nods. “He loved his antiques so much.”

“All of these are….” I frown.