It Had To Be You

She had stared at him blankly. 'What do you mean? What terms?'

'I told you this inheritance was temporary.'

'How can an inheritance be temporary?'

'Setting aside the legal language, the concept is quite simple. For you to retain ownership of the team, the Stars have to win the AFC Championship this coming January, something that is highly unlikely. If they don't win, you'll get one hundred thousand dollars and title team reverts to Reed.'

Even the news that she might receive such an enormous amount of money couldn't keep her joy from fading. With a sinking heart, she realized this was another of her father's manipulations.

'Are you saying that I'll only own the team until January, and then Reed will get it?'

'Unless the Stars win the AFC Championship, in which case the team would be yours forever.'

She pushed her hair back from her face with a trembling hand. 'I-I don't know anything about football. This championship game? Is this the Super Bowl?'

To his credit, Hibbard launched into a patient explanation. 'It's one step away. The National Football League is split into two conferences, the American Football Conference, the AFC, and the National Football Conference. The two best teams in each conference play for their conference championship, and the winners of those games meet in the Super Bowl.'

She wanted to make certain she understood. 'For me to retain ownership, the Stars would have to win this AFC championship game?'

'That's right. And frankly, Miss Somerville, their chances of even getting close are practically nil. They're a good team, but most of the players are still young. Two or three years from now, they may do it, but not this season, I'm afraid. Right now, the AFC is dominated by the San Diego Chargers, the Miami Dolphins, and, of course, last year's Super Bowl champions, the Portland Sabers.'

'Bert knew that the Stars wouldn't be able to win this year?'

'I'm afraid he did. His will states that you cannot receive the one hundred thousand dollars unless you show up at the Stars Complex every day for work, for as long as you own the team. You would, of course, have to move to Chicago, but you don't have to be concerned about not being prepared to run a professional football team. Carl Pogue, the Stars' general manager, would do the actual work.'

A dull ache spread through her chest as her father's intent became clear. 'In other words, I wouldn't be anything but a figurehead.'

'Carl doesn't have the authority to sign legal papers. That's the owner's responsibility.'

She couldn't quite keep the misery from her voice. 'Why would Bert do something like this?'

That was when Hibbard had handed her the letter.

Dear Phoebe,

As you know, I regard you as my only failure. For years, you've publicly humiliated me by running around with all those fags and fairies, but I'm not going to let you defy me any longer. For once in your life you're going to do what I tell you. Maybe this experience will finally teach you something about responsibility and discipline.

The game of football makes men out of boys. Let's see if it can make a woman out of you.

Don't fuck this up, too.

Bert

She had read the note through three times while the lawyer watched, and each time the lump in her throat had grown larger. Even from the grave, Bert was determined to control her. By removing her from Manhattan, he thought he could reshape her into the person he wanted her to be. Her father had always loved to gamble, and he had apparently decided she couldn't do much damage to his precious team in a few months. Now he would finally have exactly what he wanted. Reed would end up with the Stars, while she danced to her father's tune.

She wished she could force herself to believe that his motivations were based on love and concern. Then she might have been able to forgive him. But she understood too well that Bert knew nothing of love, only of power.

So she wandered the halls of her father's house that night saying prayers for the souls of dead animals and unloved little girls, while she counted the hours until she could run away from this place where she'd known so much unhappiness.

Peg Kowalski, who had been Bert's housekeeper for the last eight years, had left a single light burning in the large family room that stretched across the back of the house. Phoebe walked over to the windows that looked out on the grounds and tried to find the old maple that had been her favorite hiding place when she was a child.

Generally she tried to avoid thinking about her childhood, but tonight, as she stared into the darkness, that time didn't seem so long ago. She could feel herself being pulled back into the past, to that old maple tree and the dreaded sound of a bully's voice…

'There you are, Flea Belly. Come on down. I've got a present for you.'

Phoebe's stomach did a flip-flop at the loud intrusion of her cousin Reed's voice. She looked down to see him standing beneath the tree that was her haven during those few times when she was at home. She was supposed to leave for summer camp the next morning, and she had so far managed to avoid being caught alone with him, but today she had let down her guard. Instead of staying in the kitchen with the cook or helping Addie clean the bathrooms, she had escaped to the solitude of the woods.

'I don't want any present,' she said.

'You'd better come down here. If you don't, you'll be sorry.'

Reed didn't make idle threats, and she'd learned long ago that she had few defenses against him. Her father got mad at her if she complained that Reed teased her or hit her. Bert said she was spineless and that he wasn't going to fight her battles for her. But at twelve, Reed was two years older than she was and lots stronger, and she couldn't imagine fighting him.

She didn't understand why Reed hated her so much. She might be rich while he was poor, but his mother hadn't died when he was four like hers had, and he didn't get sent away to school. Reed and her Aunt Ruth, who was her father's sister, had lived in a brick apartment building two miles from the estate ever since Reed's father had run off. Bert paid the rent and gave Aunt Ruth money, even though he didn't like her that much. But he loved Reed because Reed was a boy, and he was good at sports, especially football.

She knew Reed would climb up after her if she defied him, and she decided she'd feel safer facing him on solid ground. With a sinking sense of dread, she began descending the maple tree, her plump thighs making an ugly swishing sound as they rubbed together. She hoped he wasn't looking up her shorts. He was always trying to see her there, or touch her, or say nasty things about her bottom, not all of which she understood. She dropped awkwardly to the ground, breathing hard because the descent had been difficult.

Reed wasn't unusually tall for a twelve-year-old, but he was stocky, with short, strong legs, broad shoulders, and a thick chest. His arms and legs were perpetually covered with scabs and bruises from sports activities, bike accidents, and fights. Bert loved to inspect Reed's injuries. He said Reed was 'all boy.'

She, however, was lumpish and shy, more interested in books than in sports. Bert called her Lard Ass and said that all those A's she made in school wouldn't get her anywhere in life if she couldn't manage to stand up straight and look people in the eye. Reed wasn't smart in school, but that didn't make any difference to Bert because Reed was the star of his junior high football team.

Her cousin was dressed in a torn orange T-shirt, cutoffs, and battered sneakers, exactly the kind of rumpled play clothes she would have liked to wear, except her father's housekeeper wouldn't let her. Mrs. Mertz bought all Phoebe's clothing in an expensive children's store, and today she had laid out a pair of white shorts that emphasized Phoebe's round stomach and a sleeveless cotton top that had a big strawberry on the front and cut her under the arms.

'Don't ever say I've never done anything nice for you,Flea Belly.' Reed held up a piece of heavy white paper just a little larger than a paperback book cover. 'Guess what I've got?'

'I don't know.' Phoebe spoke cautiously, determined to avoid whatever land mines Reed was laying for her.

'I've got a picture of your mom.'

Phoebe's heart skipped a beat. 'I don't believe you.'