Rogue Wave by Isabel Jolie (reading eggs books txt) 📕

He’d always think the worst. “No one knows what I did. But that’s what Gabe was getting at, I guess. I came back because Nana Pearl died.”

“You missed Dad’s funeral. But you came back for hers?” The accusation colored his expression and pissed me off.

“You know, I don’t know if it’s ever occurred to you, but it’s not that easy to get back to Connecticut when you’re near Antarctica. And it’s not like I was on a cruise ship that had a plan for getting a passenger off it if needed. Your text that he died came through three days before the funeral. Two days, when you consider the time change. I was on the other side of the world. You get that, right?”

He balled up a napkin and gritted his teeth.

“I know it pissed you off. But there. Was. Nothing. I. Could. Do.” I’d called him as soon as possible. I’d tried to explain. He wouldn’t listen. Didn’t matter if he listened or not. He never heard me.

“But when there’s money to be passed around, you find a way back.”

“Your logic is bullshit. You know that? I’m the one in this family who has never been hung on possessions and bank accounts.”

“Yeah, you want handouts. No way would you do something boring like get a job and work.”

“How do you figure I haven’t been working?”

“You had Nana Pearl sending you money, right?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

He leaned back in his chair, judging me. A younger version of myself would have crashed a chair against the wall, or maybe taken a fist to his head. But my older, beaten-down self took it. He’d believe what he wanted to believe. He’d go away, and we’d go another few years without speaking.

“Dad said he wired you money.”

“He did. A few times. My ATM card didn’t work in every country. For the first few years, my bank account was in the US, and my salary was on direct deposit. Sometimes I’d have him wire me money so I could have cash. Credit cards work in some places, but not all. You can’t count on them. I wasn’t borrowing money from him. He was just helping me out.”

“And once he died, you had Nana functioning as your bank?”

“No, she never sent me money.”

“She specifically told me she sent a package to you.”

I shook my head, no idea of what he could be talking about. Then I remembered she’d asked me once about a package I never received. She’d sent candy, and I’d told her not to bother. The chances of a package making it to me were too slim.

“I think she tried to send me something once. I never got it. One of her care packages. So, you’ve been assuming I’ve been off gallivanting, living in resorts, maybe, off their money?”

“You do surf.”

“Nice, Gregg.”

“Well, I came down here to tell you that you’ve got some money waiting for you. Your inheritance.”

“That’s currently in dispute.” I raised my eyebrows.

“Not really. Not if we can come to an agreement. I’ve been growing the company, putting everything into it. It doesn’t seem fair to me that you’d show up ten years later and take half of what I’ve worked for.” He twisted the napkin in his hand, glancing back and forth between me and the table.

“You know damn well I don’t want anything to do with selling insurance. I don’t want to take half of Tate Insurance from you.”

“It’s Tate Financial Services now.”

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t want it.”

“I owe you some money for it. I’d like to buy your portion from you, gradually, as I can afford to without taking on debt.”

“You don’t need to. You know money has never been a driving factor for me.” If anything, I almost hated currency and what it made human beings do to each other and the planet.

“Yeah. For years, I figured you’d come back with your hand out, like a typical liberal. Wanting to go off and play and then expecting a handout. For someone else to work and then you get the—”

“I get it. But no, you can keep it.” I half-laughed and emptied my beer bottle, then set it aside so the waitress would see I needed another one.

“I was so pissed that Nana watched me work my ass off but yet didn’t change her will. When I heard you’d come back to the States, figured you…But it’s not like that with you, is it? And all these years, I assumed…” He assumed the worst. He didn’t need to say more. “But why throw your family away?”

I balled my hand into a fist, then hid the aggressive reflex beneath the table. “I didn’t. You think there’s phone service out there? And besides, when I did call, it was always contentious. Someone stole my phone, and I never bothered buying another one.” I thought back, trying to remember the why. “When I left, it wasn’t a good conversation with Dad. He wasn’t happy with my choice.”

“He’s not a fan of Greenpeace.”

“Yeah, he acted like I was joining an extremist group and headed to prison. I didn’t have a strong urge to keep in touch. And then, all that time on the ship. That kind of became my world. Everything back here felt like another planet. And time went by, and a call felt like a big deal, something I needed time for and not something to do on a borrowed phone. And then I just decided when I got back home I’d talk face to face. Email and a phone didn’t feel…adequate.”

“Why’d you turn off your GPS?”

“I didn’t turn it off. It got crushed when our ship hit a storm.” That had been one of many times I thought I’d die on monster waves.

“You didn’t think about what that would do to us? We had no idea if you were alive or dead. If we should have a memorial service or round up a search party. We had no idea where to search. The last we