The Millionaire's Tainted Legacy

Making Plans

Tito's phone rang as he was driving back to the office, and he used the van's state of the art Bluetooth connection to pick up the call. He'd realized early on that they'd need a van to transport the teens once the program really got up and running, and had mentioned it in one of his interviews with the local media. He'd hoped that would result in some additional contributions earmarked for the van, and had his eye on a used vehicle he thought would do the job with a little help from a local mechanic.

He'd been in the process of making those arrangements when he got a call from the lawyer who managed the Trust that had twice before been the benefactor of OFC in sizable donations. The lawyer informed him that, on behalf of the Trust, he had already made arrangements with a local dealership for purchase of a new commercial passenger van, and that the sales person was waiting to meet with Tito to show him a variety of 12-15 seat vans so Tito could choose the one that best suited OFC's purposes.

The man still refused to identify who his client was who actually controlled the Trust, and would only say that one of the priorities of the Trust was assisting programs that helped at-risk youth. All Tito could do was express his gratitude. A week later he had driven out of the dealership with a brand new vehicle that far exceeded his expectations and would meet all the anticipated transportation needs of the program for years to come.

But right now he wasn't thinking about the largess of an unknown benefactor. He was thinking about Caylee and the winking emoji she'd sent in reply to his text setting a date. As far as he was concerned, Sunday afternoon couldn't come soon enough.

"Are you there? Tito?"

His sister's voice pulled his focus back to the present.

"Yes. Sorry, Just driving. What's up, Maria?"

"Did you see it?" Maria's voice came through the speakers. "The story about the plane crash?"

"Hard to miss it, the way the asshole's photo has been splattered all over the news."

"He's dead."

"It doesn't mean anything to us."

"It closes a door."

"That's not a door we ever would have opened."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this."

"Feel happy you won't ever run into him at another event." Tito remembered all too clearly how upset his sister had been when Thornton had confronted her at a charity auction - one where a painting of hers had been one of the featured items being bid on - and basically called her a worthless little gold digger who was no better than her mother. The woman who he'd gotten pregnant in high school and then abandoned to raise her twin babies on her own. He'd warned her to stay away from him and his socialite wife.

Well, now both of them were dead.

"I guess so," Maria said. "It's just . . . " Her voice trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

"He never acknowledged us," Tito said, "and there's no reason for us to acknowledge this. He was dead to me anyway. This changes nothing."

"You're right," Maria said.

"Dad was our father, not that sonofabitch," Tito added, referring to the man who had helped raise them and loved them - their stepfather and their little brother Joey's father - until a heart attack stole him from them way too soon. He'd married their mother when Tito and Maria were ten, and for awhile life had been really good. But five years later he was gone, and Joey was still so young he barely remembered his father.

"Not that sonofabitch," Tito repeated.

"I know that," Maria said. "I hated Thornton as much as you did. Maybe more."