Chapter 4 - CECILY
My sister Cecily had always been the beautiful Whitmore daughter.
That was not bitterness.
It was how our family described us.
Cecily was slim, blonde, elegant, and naturally comfortable being photographed.
I was heavier.
Scarred.
Awkward in formal clothes.
Dad once called us “the portrait and the blueprint.”
Cecily hated that almost as much as I did.
She came to my apartment ten days before the wedding.
No makeup.
Baseball cap.
She looked frightened.
“You need to cancel.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The wedding.”
“Why?”
“Dad is acting insane.”
“That is not new.”
“I’m serious.”
She paced.
“He keeps asking where Grandmother’s things are.”
“What things?”
“Anything she gave you.”
My fingers went cold.
“Did he mention a key?”
Cecily stopped.
That was enough.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I remembered Grandma wearing one on a chain.”
I said nothing.
Cecily stared.
“You have it.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“Cecily.”
“Oh my God.”
She sat.
“What does it open?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’m right.”
“About what?”
“Dad is terrified of this wedding.”
I almost laughed.
“He organized half of it.”
“Exactly.”
Cecily leaned toward me.
“He wants it to happen.”
“That’s different from being terrified of it.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled.
“He wants it to happen his way.”
I told her some of the truth.
Not the dollar amount.
Not the audit.
Enough.
When I finished, she looked sick.
“Grandma left you control?”
“Yes.”
“Does Dad know?”
“Yes.”
She stood.
“That explains what he said.”
“What?”
Cecily hesitated.
“Last month he told Mom, ‘Once she signs, we have six hours.’”
My pulse pounded.
“Signs what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Six hours from when?”
“He didn’t say.”
The wedding was scheduled for 5:30 p.m.
Reception until eleven.
Midnight exactly six and a half hours later.
I called Judith.
She answered on the first ring.
“Maren?”
“I need to ask you something.”
I told her.
Her silence lasted several seconds.
“Judith.”
“There is another document.”
“What document?”
“Your father had his counsel prepare a marital voting proxy.”
I almost laughed.
“For Caleb?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“If you signed it after the wedding, Caleb could temporarily exercise your newly vested voting rights.”
“And Dad thinks Caleb will then give them to him?”
“Or vote according to his direction.”
“That’s insane.”
“Has your father offered Caleb anything?”
I thought about the previous week.
Dad had invited Caleb to dinner alone.
Caleb refused.
Then came a job offer.
Executive vice president of development.
Salary nearly triple what Caleb earned.
He turned it down.
I had thought Dad was trying to buy his affection.
Now I knew better.
He was trying to buy his vote.
That night I told Caleb everything.
He listened quietly.
When I finished, he said:
“We should get married tomorrow at city hall.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Remove the window.”
“If Dad needs the marriage first—”
“Then we change the timing without telling him.”
I almost agreed.
Then my phone rang.
Cecily.
She was crying.
“Dad knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That you talked to Judith.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Then she whispered:
“He said if you embarrass him, Mom loses the house.”
The threat changed everything.
May you like
Dad had found another way to make me cooperate.
And this one involved people besides me.
