Demanding All Of You Read online

  I didn’t recognize the number right away but recognized the area code. It was from Montana. “Hello?” I answered, expecting to hear my grandfather’s voice.

  “Hello, is this Damion Whittle?” a woman asked.

  “It is. Who’s calling?”

  “Mr. Whittle, my name is Denise. I work at Missouri River Medical Center. I’m calling about your grandfather, Oliver Whittle. He’s listed you as his next of kin.”

  I nodded. She couldn’t see me, but I was struggling to think straight. Was it a heart attack? I had seen him a few days ago and knew he didn’t look well. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  There was a brief pause. “I’m sorry to tell you this, especially over the phone, but he’s passed away.”

  My mouth fell open about the same time my knees gave out. I was fortunate to be standing next to the couch when I answered the phone. I sank into the old, worn leather cushions and processed the words. “Passed away?” I repeated. “He died?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she answered. “I understand you are in New York. He’s made arrangements already and we will follow through with his wishes.”

  “He made arrangements?” I asked, my mind befuddled by the information.

  “Yes, sir. He’ll be picked up by a funeral home.”

  “He made arrangements?” I repeated. “He knew he was going to die? How does that work?”

  She cleared her throat. “He had end-stage pancreatic cancer. Yes, he knew he was going to die.”

  My heart felt like a knife had been stabbed through it. My throat felt raw. “Cancer?”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said again.

  That was it. That was the extent of her phone call. “That’s it?” I whispered. “He’s just gone?”

  “I’m sorry. Is there someone you can talk to? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  I scoffed, suddenly furious. “Yeah, there’s someone I can talk to. Unfortunately, you just told me he was dead!”

  I ended the call, throwing my phone across the room. I squeezed my eyes closed, refusing to cry. He wouldn’t want me to cry. I couldn’t believe he was gone. My mind simply refused to accept it. It just wasn’t possible. He was my last remaining relative. Could I really be alone in the world? I had Oliver, I reminded myself. I wasn’t completely alone.

  My heart hurt. It physically hurt in my chest. Images of my grandfather on the farm flashed through my brain. His smile and those eyes that had a way of seeing through any lie. I couldn’t believe I would never see those eyes again.

  It hurt. The pain was almost unbearable until Oliver came into the room. He picked up my phone and brought it to me. “You dropped your phone, Daddy,” he said.

  I smiled, refusing to let him see my pain. “Oops,” I choked out the only word I could get out.

  He sat beside me on the couch, completely silent. I wrapped my arm around him and hugged him close. I was sick of losing people.

  I refused to lose another person in my life.

  Chapter 4

  Alex

  I stared out the window of the hospital room. It was a dreary spring day, which was common, but I suspected the rain was God weeping. Not really. The weather suited the mood. I was trying to keep my emotions in check. I refused to show weakness. I hated showing weakness.

  “You’re still here?” Oliver’s weak voice came from behind me.

  I slowly turned and looked at the man lying in bed. He looked tired. I didn’t think he looked like a man on death’s door, but the doctors and nurses assured me that was the case. I was in awe of his strength. I had no idea he was sick. Yesterday when I had shown up to the house, he was still in bed. He politely asked me to drive him the twenty miles to the hospital.

  Initially, I thought maybe he had the flu. He had just been on an airplane. Airplanes were nasty, germ-laden boxes. When he’d quickly been admitted with almost no questions asked, I realized something was wrong. It was all prearranged. It was like he was checking in at a hotel.

  “I’m here, Oliver. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He coughed. “Who’s running the farm?”

  I laughed. “It’s raining. I’m not worried about planting right this minute. It will all hold.”

  “Alex, I need you to promise me you will keep the farm running,” he said, a glimpse of the man I knew rising up. “That farm is my legacy. I don’t want it being sold off on an auction block.”

  “You’ll be back home running the farm yourself,” I told him.

  He chuckled. “That isn’t going to happen, and you know it.”

  “Oliver,” I said, taking the seat next to his bed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

  “I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I certainly didn’t want your pity. I hired you to do a job and you’ve done that. I’m impressed. I’ve made provisions to ensure you’ll be paid for as long as you stay on. I’m asking you to stick it out. I’ll have someone in there soon.”

  I nodded. “You have my word. I won’t leave until I’m confident it’s going to be left in good hands.”

  In the back of my mind, I wondered what he expected to happen. If he was gone and had no family, what did he need a farm for? I supposed his lawyer had the answers. It was none of my business. I would fulfill his wishes and move on. I was a bit of a rolling stone, never staying in one place for more than a few months.

  He closed his eyes. I could see the man fading before my very eyes. I hated that I was the one that was there for him. I hated that the man was alone. He was such a good person. In my little fantasy world, he would have a big family surrounding his bed. They would be loud and raucous, little boys with skinned knees and little girls with cute little pigtails calling him grandpa.

  I sat with him while he rested. It was another thirty minutes before his eyes opened and he looked at me. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “For?”

  “For being here. For taking care of the farm. You’re a good woman, Alex. Don’t be so hard on yourself all the time.”

  I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He tried to smile but it ended up being nothing more than a tug at the corner of his lips. His eyes closed once again. He had requested no monitors, no beeping, nothing. He had a morphine drip that kept the pain at bay and kept him asleep most of the time.

  I sat with him for another hour. Part of me knew he was gone, but I refused to acknowledge it. I wouldn’t leave until a nurse came in and confirmed what I suspected. My throat was raw as I fought back tears. I had known of Oliver for some time. He had been friends with my own grandfather, but I hadn’t really gotten to know him until the last month. I had come to think of him as my own grandpa and knew his death was going to leave a hole in my heart.

  I stared out the window, watching the water droplets streak down the glass. It was representative of my heart. My heart wept. I heard the door open, followed by the soft soles of the nurse’s shoes.

  “Hi,” she said in a low voice. “I’m just checking to see if he needs anything.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think he does.”

  She looked at me, then Oliver, her expression softening. “I see,” she said.

  I looked away while she did her thing.

  “Take your time,” she said and walked out of the room.

  They assumed I was a relative. Neither Oliver nor I had corrected the assumption. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves, and got to my feet. I stood next to the bed, looking down at him. He looked peaceful, like he was enjoying the best nap ever. The pain I had seen on his face all week was gone.

  “Goodbye, Oliver. I’ll take care of your farm. Sleep well, my friend.”

  I walked out of the room. “I’m leaving,” I said to the nurse, not stopping to hear what she was about to say. I couldn’t stay there another minute. I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to turn into a blubbery mess with an audience.

  I got back in my truck and drove. I felt numb. When I got within five minutes of
town, I called Sadie, hoping she was off work.

  “Hey,” I said when she answered. “You free? I could really use a drink.”

  “Alex, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon. Since when do you day-drink?”

  “I need a drink. You don’t have to drink.”

  “I’ll meet you at Bob’s,” she said, naming the one bar in town. Bob’s also served as a diner and all-around hangout for the over twenty-one crowd, but it wasn’t all that surprising to see a toddler in the bar with a mom or dad on occasion.

  I drove to the bar, parking in the paved lot that had more potholes than solid blacktop. When I walked inside, I immediately spotted sleek black hair. It was easy to find her anywhere. She liked flash and bling. She was wearing a black shirt with bright red and pink flowers that appeared to have been bedazzled. It was gaudy in my opinion, but that was how she dressed.

  I flopped down in the chair, putting up my hand to order myself a shot of something strong. “Thanks,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Oliver Whittle died,” I told her.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh god. Please tell me you didn’t kill him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I didn’t kill him. I liked him. He had pancreatic cancer. Apparently, he told no one. He didn’t want anyone to know. Yesterday, I couldn’t find him, went to the house, and found him in bed. I took him to the hospital, and well, long story short, he died.”

  “Wow. That is horrible. That poor man. He was such a good guy.”

  “Tequila,” I said when the waitress showed up at the table.

  “Alexandria Hammel,” the waitress scolded. “Your mama would roll over in her grave if she knew you were drinking tequila in the middle of the day.”

  “Gretta, my mama didn’t give a shit when she was alive. I doubt she cares now. Please. I have had a really shitty twenty-four hours. I want to crawl in a bottle, just for a little while. I won’t stay for long.”

  She scowled at me. “Fine.”

  “Make it two,” I shouted as she walked away.

  She ignored me. I turned my attention back to Sadie, who had her makeup perfectly applied. She looked like a cover girl with her long, enhanced lashes and perfect smoky eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Her dark brown eyes were soft and full of love for me.

  I nodded. “I don’t know why it is bumming me out so bad. He wasn’t my family.”

  “But you cared about him. You stayed with him?”

  I took my first shot of tequila. “Yes.”

  “That was very sweet of you.”

  I shrugged. “I couldn’t leave the guy. He had no one. No one. I don’t want to be alone when it comes time to die.”

  “I’ll be there for you,” she offered.

  “That’s sweet, but I mean, kids, grandkids, a spouse. He had no one.”

  “That is very sad,” she agreed.

  I took the second shot, one eye closing as the liquid burned down my throat. I coughed before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “He says he has someone coming to take over the farm. I don’t know who it is, but he made me promise to keep it up and running. I wonder if he bequeathed the farm to someone.”

  “Like who?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m not leaving that farm in the hands of just anyone. Oliver hired the last guy. I don’t think I can trust his judgment.”

  “Are you going to stay on the farm forever?”

  “No, but I’m not going to let it fall apart while his estate is being settled. I need to ask his lawyer what the long-term plan is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “He told me he made arrangements to keep me on. I need to know what that means. I hate to say it, but I feel like I was promising something I could never possibly give him. I know what the books look like for the farm, and while it’s doing okay, how long? How long will it be okay?”

  “Drink your drink. I’ll drive you home. You need to sleep.”

  “I’m fine. I need to get back to the farm. Deke has probably burned the place down.”

  “Then that would solve the problem,” she said easily.

  “What?”

  “You were worried about how long the farm would keep running. If it’s burned, then you don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

  “Sadie! That’s horrible!”

  She shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “I’m not going to let him down,” I said with determination. “I will hire and train the right manager for that farm myself.”

  “You’re a good woman, Alex. I’m glad he had you. You made an old man’s life a little better when it counted.”

  I smiled. “I hope so. Damn, I’m so going to miss him. He was a little cantankerous, but I really liked how straightforward he was. I always knew where I stood with him. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. I wished I would have met him sooner.”

  “Death is cruel. Life isn’t always fair. You know the rest. Now, come on. Load up and I’ll bring your truck by in a bit.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Thank you. We need to stop at the liquor store. I can’t get properly drunk with Gretta giving me the stink eye.”

  She laughed. “I can’t let you get drunk by yourself.”

  “Sure, you can. I’m a big girl.”

  “Let me see if I can get someone to take my clients for the rest of the day.”

  I shook my head. “Sadie, no. It’s okay. I kind of want to be alone. I appreciate you being here for me.”

  “Anytime. That’s what friends are for.”

  Chapter 5

  Damion

  I sat at my desk, reviewing a new piece from one of my seasoned journalists when my assistant buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Whittle?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s someone here to see you. He says he’s a lawyer.”

  I didn’t think I was being sued, but one never knew in the current climate. We weren’t in the business of celebrity news, which protected us from some suits but not all. I adjusted my tie, wanting to present a professional appearance.

  “I’ll be right out.”

  I got to my feet and opened the office door. The lawyer was nothing like the other lawyers I dealt with. The guy was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and a bolo tie. He looked to be in his late sixties. I didn’t have to ask where he was from.

  “I’m Damion Whittle,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Good to meet you, Damion. I’m Harvey Larson. I’m your grandfather’s attorney.”

  I nodded, gesturing for him to go inside. “Hold my calls,” I said, not looking forward to the conversation I knew to be coming.

  Harvey had taken a seat already. I sat down and looked at him. He looked around my office and smiled. “Your grandfather was very proud of you.”

  I scoffed. “I think we both know that isn’t true.”

  “It is true. Very true. He talked a great deal about you.”

  “What brings you all the way here?” I asked, wanting to get down to business.

  “I was hoping I would be able to talk with you when you came to town for the funeral,” he said.

  It was a dig. I knew it. I didn’t care. I didn’t have to answer to him. I had made flight reservations, fully prepared to go back to Montana, and then backed out. I had been told by the funeral home everything had already been taken care of by his estate. I was grateful for my grandfather’s foresight. I didn’t think I could plan another funeral. I knew I didn’t want to attend another funeral. I was weak. I could admit it to myself, but I wasn’t about to admit it to anyone else.

  “But you couldn’t because I wasn’t there.”

  “No, you weren’t. I don’t hold it against you. I’ve attended too many funerals in my lifetime.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Anyway, I brought some paperwork with me. You’ll need to sign a few things and then it’s yours.”

  “What’s mine? The farm?”

&
nbsp; He chuckled. “Yes, the farm and the inheritance.”

  I smiled. “He always liked to save for a rainy day.”

  Harvey laughed. “Oh, he was ready for a whole damn month of rainy days. Hell, years.”

  I frowned, not entirely sure what that meant. “Is the farm being sold?”

  “You own the farm. I suppose that would be up to you, but I wouldn’t advise it.”

  He put his briefcase on my desk and popped it open. I watched as he pulled out a sheaf of papers, closed the briefcase, and put it back on the floor.

  “I don’t know if I can manage the farm from here,” I said, thinking out loud.

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.”

  “I know, I know. He wanted me to have the farm. He wanted me to live in Montana. I don’t know if that’s the life for me.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “You might want to reconsider. Along with the farm and the personal property, you’ll inherit the money.”

  I blew out a breath. “How long did he know?” I asked.

  “About the cancer?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I would say about three months ago. The doctor didn’t give him long. He got his affairs in order and went out on his own terms. As far as I know, no one knew. He only told me because I pressed him when he started making some changes to his will.”

  “I wish he would have told me. I would have liked to have said goodbye.”

  He smiled. “He didn’t want it that way. He wanted you to remember him for the man he was, not the man the cancer left. He told me he came to see you.”

  “He did.”

  “I suppose you told him goodbye?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Would it have been easier or harder for you to dwell on the imminent death if there would have been a long, teary goodbye?”

  I knew what he was saying. “I guess that’s true.”

  “Your grandfather left his very, very sizeable investment account to you.”

  “What do you mean sizeable? I thought he sold off part of the ranch a while back? I assumed he was downsizing because of financial difficulties.”