Lies Twist The Way We Think

Chapter 5 - The reading of Tobias Hawthorne's will

The Great Room is two thirds the size of the foyer, which doesn't make it any less impressive. An enormous stone fireplace stands at the front. There are gargoyles carved into the sides of the fireplace. Literal gargoyles. This architecture is something I may have dreamt once.

Grayson deposits me into one of the wingback chairs and then excuses himself to the front of the room, where three older gentlemen in suits stand, talking to Zara and someone who seems like her husband.

The lawyers, I assume. After another few minutes, Alisa joins them, and I take stock of the other occupants of the room.

A White couple, older, in their sixties at least. A Black man, forties, with a military bearing, who stands with his back to a wall and maintains a clear line of sight to both exits. Xander, with what is clearly another Hawthorne brother by his side.

This one is probably in his older-midtwenties. He needs a haircut and has paired his suit with cowboy boots that, like the motorcycle outside, have definitely seen better days.

Nash, I think, recalling the name that Alisa had provided.

Finally, an elderly woman joins the fray. Nash offers her an arm, but she takes Xander's instead. Weird. He leads her straight to me.

"This is Nan," he says. "The woman. The legend."

"Get on with you." She swats his arm. "I'm this rascal's great-grandmother." Nan settles, with no small difficulty, into the open seat beside me. "Older than dirt and twice as mean."

"She's a softy," Xander assures me cheerfully. "And I'm her favourite."

"You are not my favourite," Nan grumbles and I chuckle. She reminds me of Dean's grandma. I like her already.

"I'm everyone's favourite!" Xander grins.

"Far too much like that incorrigible grandfather of yours," Nan grunts. She closes her eyes, and I see her hands shake slightly.

"Awful man." There was a tenderness there.

I hear a noise behind me and see that Avery and Libby are back from- wherever the hell they have been.

"Was Mr. Hawthorne your son?" Libby asks gently. She works with the elderly, and she is a good listener.

Nan welcomes the opportunity to snort again. "Son-in-law."

"He was also her favorite," Xander clarifies.

There is something poignant in the way he says it. This isn't a funeral. They must have laid the man to rest weeks earlier, but I know grief, I know grief like an old friend, can feel it- can practically smell it.

"Are you all right, Camille?" Libby asks beside me. I think back to Grayson telling me how expressive my eyes are.

Better to think about Grayson Hawthorne than funerals and grieving. Prettier, anyway.

"I'm fine," I tell Libby. But I'm not. Even after two years, missing my mom hits me like a tsunami. I feel like the waves are crashing onto me and I can't breathe, can't breathe-

"I'm going to step outside," I say, forcing a smile. "I just need some air."

Zara's husband stops me on my way out. He has an arrogant face, but not the Grayson kind. It's the last thing I need right now. "Where are you going? We're about to start." He locks a hand over my elbow.

I stare at him with disgust until he drops his hand uncomfortably. I don't care who these people are. No one gets to lay their hands on me.

"I was told there are four Hawthorne grandsons," I say, my voice steely. "By my count, you're still down by one. I'll be back in a minute. You won't even notice I'm gone."