“I know a lot can happen in that time, but right now I have to believe they’re willing to get involved.” There was more than a hint of confidence in his prediction.
His brothers Joaquin and Tariq seemed genuinely interested in becoming involved in the restoration of Bainbridge House, and Patrick had offered to oversee the financial component. He had worked for their father as a CPA after graduating college. Then he’d become involved with a woman whose father and uncles were winemakers. Patrick subsequently divided his time between working in their father’s office and at a Long Island vineyard, and after a few years decided growing grapes and turning them into wine was his passion.
“We’ll see,” Viola replied, her voice skeptical. “What I don’t understand is why did Momma wait until now to tell us about the abandoned property?”
Taylor knew he had to be truthful with his sister because it would eventually come out that he’d known what Elise Williamson was prepared to reveal once all of her children were together for the first time since the passing of her husband of forty-nine years. That had been the second week in January, and now it was late March and Easter Sunday.
It was a Williamson family tradition for everyone to get together at Easter. Conrad’s death was unexpected because at seventy-four he hadn’t exhibited any health issues. Elise said he’d complained of feeling tired and had gone to bed earlier than usual, and sometime during the night he’d died from what the medical examiner documented as natural causes. From that time until now, Taylor had established a routine of sharing dinner with his mother the first Sunday of the month.
“Mom kind of hinted to me that she had some news that involved all five of us, and if we were amenable it would change our lives,” Taylor admitted.
“Did she tell you that Daddy had inherited a huge old house sitting on over three hundred acres in North Jersey?”
Taylor stretched his right arm over the back of Viola’s headrest when traffic came to a complete standstill. He’d wanted to leave earlier to get back to Connecticut before ten, but first he had to drop his sister off in Greenwich Village, and with the buildup of holiday traffic he estimated he’d probably make it home sometime around midnight.
“She did tell me a couple of months ago that Dad had left us some property, and he’d talked about restoring it once he retired. He’d gone so far as to file for permits and approval for variances to convert the property from residential to commercial. But we all know that golfing took precedence over everything.”
After their father sold his private equity/venture capitalist company he’d hired a golf pro to teach him the game. The only time he wasn’t on the green was when it rained or snowed.
“Since Daddy’s gone and a developer wanted to buy the property, why wouldn’t Mom sell it?”
Again Taylor met Viola’s large hazel eyes, and he noticed the dark circles under the brilliant orbs. He didn’t know whether she wasn’t getting enough sleep or she was putting in too many hours at the restaurant. “She told me when Dad updated his will he’d wanted her to keep the property in the family.”
Viola bit her lip. “I don’t want to sound callous, but there’s nothing keeping her from not honoring a dead man’s wishes.”
Taylor removed his arm and ran a hand over cropped coarse hair. “Maybe when you’ve been married to a man for almost fifty years you might feel an obligation to honor his last wishes.”
As soon as the words left his lips he saw a flush suffuse Viola’s light brown complexion. Although they were brother and sister, they did not share DNA. In fact, none of the Williamson brothers and sister were biological siblings.
“You’re right,” she said, apologizing after a pause. “Maybe because you’re closer to Momma than any of us, you know her better.”
“I’m not any closer than you. I just get to see her more often.”
“That’s not what Patrick says. He claims you’re Momma’s favorite.”
“I don’t know why Patrick would say that when she has treated all of us the same. And if she did have a favorite it would be you because she always said she wanted a daughter.”
Viola laughed. “Being the only girl with four brothers definitely has its advantages.”
A special bond had developed between Conrad and Elise Williamson’s five foster children, and it had grown even stronger when they all stood together in the courtroom to make their adoption legal. That day was imprinted indelibly in Taylor’s memory.
At six, he had been the couple’s first foster child. A year later two-year-old Joaquin joined the family. He was nine when fourteen-month-old Viola became his foster sister and the darling of the family. The year he celebrated his tenth birthday eight-year-old Patrick and five-year-old Tariq became his third foster brothers. Elise had joked they would not get another sibling because the farmhouse in Belleville, New Jersey, had six bedrooms and seven baths, and she wanted everyone to have their own bedroom.
For Taylor, not having to share a bedroom or a bed with another child was something that had taken him a while to get used to. That, and having enough food to eat. There were times when he slept and woke that he feared the social worker would knock on the door and take him to another foster home, and when he verbalized this to his foster mother Elise had insisted he call her Mom promised he could live with her as long as he wanted.
Not knowing who his biological father was and losing his mother before he’d celebrated his third birthday and then
