The Inheritance

“Why am I doing this?”, I asked the heavens for the hundredth time that night. I was driving along a dark stretch of road illuminated only by the headlights shining on the cracked pavement. I forgot how dark it was away from New York. This Ohio road hasn’t seen my car since I stormed out of Christmas dinner 4 years ago, which brings me to my constant questioning of the decision making that had led me to this. 4 years ago, I learned of my family's evils and made my final decision to leave them forever, or so I thought. My great-grandfather was the founder of the brand that can be found in most houses in America, Clarkson’s Kitchen Appliances. I had been proud to be a Clarkson for most of my childhood. I was famous everywhere I went and could get anything I wanted. I was Amelia Clarkson, and one day the company may have been mine if it wasn’t for that fateful December day. I was 18 years old and was fresh out of my first semester in college. I had been so excited to see my family and have Auntie Edna’s peppermint chocolate cookies. You know how sometimes when something happened a long time ago you can glorify it in your mind? That’s what happened to me the last time I drove to my grandparents house. I had been chafing at my family's restraints since I had turned 15 and I started to realize exactly what I would be doing as the CEO of CKA. It all came to a peak at 3:42 on Christmas Day.  

I will always remember the exact moment I overheard my grandmother telling my grandfather off for something I had never heard of. 

“The kids in the factories can’t have a Christmas, or any holiday! Do you want that on your conscience? It’s bad enough that you pay them below the minimum wage because they’re not in the US, but refusing to give them any benefits? That’s just cruel.” She said in a fierce voice. She whirled around, and just before she bumped into me listening in from behind the fireplace, I could see the terror and tears in her eyes at what she had just said. My grandmother had always been my favorite relative, always sticking up for the little guy, but I never knew to what extent. She seemed just as shocked as me at what she had said, and quickly pulled me to where my grandfather couldn’t see, into the darkened home theater.  

“You can’t say anything!” She whisper-shouted to me.  

“Listen, you weren’t supposed to find out about anything until you were 25 and ready to join the company. You ever wondered why we never had a ‘Take Your Kid to Work Day’? We couldn’t bear to show you the horrors of those poor people sweating in those factories, being paid less that $4 per hour. I know it seems horrible, but we just have to wait for you to become the CEO. You can change it! Just WAIT!” She said that last part a little louder than intended and looked up fearfully as the words echoed around the room. She seemed frightened of my grandfather, but that was impossible! Every time I saw her with him he was doting upon her. Then again, if this fact was true, anything was possible. All those years of people looking up to us, one of the richest families in America, when they had no idea of our dirty secret. I looked down at her, speechless. I resolved to wait, just like she said, but when dinner came, it was too much. My aunt had just said to one of the kitchen chefs in a shrill voice, “My lamb is undercooked you servant! I should fire you just for that felony!” Well, she actually used much stronger language than that, but I won’t embarrass her any further. Anyway, that was the last straw. I couldn’t stand my family. They were horrible! No, even worse than horrible, they were EVIL! I stood up, tears in my eyes, and let out all of the anger that had accumulated over the years. I told them what I knew, and that I would report them. I grabbed my coat and ran out of the door into the night. 

And there you have it. My pathetic little life. After my outburst, my family disowned me and the only person I still have contact with is my grandmother. I went to business school with the money I still had in my bank account, but I never did report them. I was too scared to. I’m still too scared to. But now I’m coming back to where it all started. This time, it’s my great aunt’s funeral. 

I didn’t hear about the funeral until this morning. The funeral is later this evening, and it takes 9 hours to get there. I would’ve heard even later if it wasn’t for Grandma. My grandmother wants me to be there for whatever reason, and made sure I was on the guest list, but that didn’t stop my parents from making it get “lost in the mail”. Luckily, Grandma swooped in and told me. Apparently, it’s my grandfather's sister who’s died. I’ve never heard of her, but Grandma must want me there for a reason. 

After another half an hour of driving I pulled onto the long driveway that is my grandfather’s. Seeing that house brought back so many memories, but even the joyful ones had a dark cloud over them. I steeled myself for the insults, or the silent treatment, or whatever else they had cooked up. I wouldn’t put anything past them. As I got closer I could see them standing there, arms crossed across their chests, like a wall. They can’t stop me, though. If Grandma wants me to be there, I’ll be there. I parked my old, used car next to their Porsches and Ferraris. It stuck out like a sore thumb. The second my door opened I could tell they went the insult route.  

“Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes, aren’t ya?" screamed my older cousin.  

“You’re so much better than us, right? Couldn’t even bear to be a part of the family?” asked my grandfather in a booming voice.  

“Didn’t even stop to think about what it would mean for us did you? You’ve only ever cared about yourself.” That was my older brother. Always so thoughtful. But worst of all was my father. He knew how much I loved him, no matter how much he hurt me. He knew that there was only one thing that would cut deep enough to leave a scar. I could see him preparing himself, knowing that after this there was no going back. 

“You’re no daughter of mine anymore. Even when you were a child, I kept my distance. I could tell you would stab me in the back one day. Ever wondered why I was with your siblings more? You mother and I agree, you disgust us!” Was this true? Have they always hated me? No, I told myself, he’s trying to get at you. My mother looked at him with fear and admiration in her eyes. I know that if he wasn’t there my mother would accept me again, but she always loved my father above anyone else. I decided that I would give them the silent treatment, and stormed into the house.  

Once I stepped in, I could see their wealth had only grown larger. My so-called betrayal didn’t affect them at all. There were beautiful paintings, mostly original, and suits of armor every 5.3 feet. I know, because I helped my grandmother design this hall. Friends who had been invited here for a party or just a dinner with my all-important family had called this place a castle. For me, it was a prison. A prison of fancy parties and itchy dresses. Of pretend smiles and fake people. No matter how proud I was to be a Clarkson, I always wished that sometimes I could have a life like my friends, at least for one day. As I stared, surrounded by memories, I heard the rumble of my family coming up the stone steps outside. I ducked into the coat closet, and when I heard someone coming in, I pretended that I had been there all along. 

“Darling?” a voice croaked. 

“Grandma?” I asked in disbelief. 

“Is that you?” I had thought that she would have to pretend to hate me! You can’t be fraternizing with the enemy in a war. Even if you do love each other. 

“Yes! It’s me!” She hugged me so tightly, I could feel my lungs constricting. 

“I can’t talk for long. But I have to tell you that the reason you’ve never heard of this aunt is because she’s just like you! Exiled for betrayal.” I could feel my pulse quicken. I wasn’t alone! I wasn’t the only one (besides Grandma) who realized how horrible this family is. 

“Listen to me!” Grandma nearly shrieked. She could always tell when I lost focus. I quickly looked back at her, away from the racks of coats I’d been facing. 

“Whatever that will says, I want you to do it! I can’t, I’m too deep into this family, and I’m the only thing stopping these factories from getting worse! Do what the will says, and I will finally be able to speak to you. Everyone in that family that supports you will get to speak to you!” Now she wasn’t making any sense. Wills, the factories, and supporters? Grandma could tell I was lost, and was about to open her mouth when - 

“What are you doing here?” My grandpa asked in his deep voice.  

“Come back to the ballroom at once! This girl is worth none of your time.” He led my grandma away as she looked back at me, helpless. I could see her giving me a pointed look, but I couldn’t decipher it. 

I followed them out, silent as an elephant, my footsteps magnified by the hard wooden floor and the way-too-large-too-be-practical cathedral ceiling. I knew the way by heart, and could have easily passed my grandparents, but I preferred to call as little attention to myself as possible. As I passed through the stone archway into the ballroom, I could see few people. Evidently, my great-aunt didn’t have any friends. There were still piles of food on the tables though, because what demonstrates a person’s wealth more than an excessive amount of wasted food? There were black curtains hung up on the windows, though the house was gloomy enough for a funeral without them. The people who were there though, were too joyful to be mourning someone’s death. It was almost like they were... celebrating? Is this what they will do when I die? The more I see this family from an unbiased perspective, the more I’m glad I got out. Since I didn’t hear about this funeral until the very last minute, I’m not very sure what we’re going to be doing. As if the universe sensed my confusion, a piece of paper caught my eye. “Order of Events for the Funeral of Ms. Elina Clarkson.” First, we would be in the ballroom, waiting for any stragglers and “contemplating the wonderful life the dearly deceased lived”. Next, we would move into the library “where the dearly deceased loved to spend her time”. After a brief service and the reading of the will we would “say our goodbyes, and lay the dearly deceased down to rest”. I think that we’re burying her near the woods. I doubt she wanted that, but it must have some benefit to my grandfather to bury her there. Maybe tomorrow the headline would read “Billionaire Keeps His Sister Close, After Short Reconciliation With Her”, and then a soppy story underneath. Sounds just like him. Almost like the day I left Christmas dinner. “Clarkson Family Heartbroken as Spoiled Granddaughter Leaves Because of Disagreement Over Future”. For weeks after that I received death threats for breaking America’s Grandparent’s ™ hearts. Suddenly, I heard the sound of people moving out of the room. It must be time for the service! 

I have a surprisingly lot in common with this woman I’ve never met. Both of us were exiled and both of our favorite places in the world was the library. As I walked in and passed her coffin I gasped. Even in death this lady was gorgeous. I know this is cliché, but she looked like she was asleep. I quickly averted my gaze, again not wanting to draw attention to myself. I sat down in my assigned seat and remembered my grandmother’s words. “Whatever that will says, I want you to do it!” I glanced at her, seated a few rows ahead of me, and thought of how much separated us, no matter how physically close we were. My train of thought was interrupted by the bishop’s entrance. I remembered him. He had always come to our private services and given all the kids sweets afterward. But today I was not a child. He started his sermon, his low voice putting me in a trance-like state. 

“I will now read from Ms. Clarkson’s will.” I sat bolt-upright, ready for whatever instructions were about to be given to me. 

“My two poodles will be given to Brandon’s animal shelter, my family portrait will be given to Edward Clarkson, my...” Oh, so it was just a regular old will. Grandma had been wrong. Surely the most important possessions would have been brought up first. But then I heard what I knew Grandma had meant. 

“And finally, my remaining possessions, estate, and fortune will be given to anyone who will expose Clarkson’s Kitchen Appliances to the world.” The bishop looked up in alarm, as if not sure if it was him who had spoken those words. And then, slowly at first, but gaining momentum, came my family’s rage. 

“She can’t do this!” 

“I guess no one gets her money!” 

“We will not tolerate this!” 

“Who is she to expose company secrets?” 

“What secrets?” That was my little cousin, George. It broke my heart to remember that I was just like these kids once. Completely oblivious. Some of my older cousins, however, looked uncomfortable and conflicted. Did they want to do something? Maybe this is what my grandmother meant when she said I had supporters. And this, my cousins naïveté and confliction almost made up my mind.  

I had to tell people. Not just for the money, which I could probably donate to a charity, but for my great-aunt's dying wish. But I was terrified. No matter how much they hurt me, my family was still my family, and if I did this they might never talk to me again. Or I could be reading the signs wrong. Maybe my cousins loved the cruelty CKA was giving out. Maybe it was all a set up. Maybe... maybe...maybe... 

And then all my worries were soothed. My grandmother looked back at me, gave me a reassuring nod, and pointed her head at the will, and then my phone. She wanted me to call someone. Who, the press? Most of them were reluctant to report on anything negative about my family because of our power. But I did have one blurry memory of a news report about another family, friends of ours, that got sued for nearly the exact same thing. Now that I think about it, I remember my family’s worried looks for weeks after that. If I called them, maybe they would report again. I did a quick search on my phone, and found their number. If I called them, maybe I could get the inheritance and use the money to help the factory families. It was a win-win, but not for me. Well, for the first time in my life I would have to do something selfless. 

I jumped up from my seat as if electrocuted. Before I could stop myself I yelled over the din. 

“I’ll do it! I’ll tell people of this family’s wicked deeds!” My grandma looked back at me, a proud look on her face. And with that, I fled before they could fully comprehend what I had just done. 

I raced through the halls, out the front door, down the stone steps, nearly breaking my ankle in the process, and hopped in my car. Locking the door behind me, I opened my phone with shaking hands and heard my family’s roar. They came crashing out the door, but I noticed some of them stayed back, my grandmother included. They screamed obscenities at me, but I just continued onto the calling app. Dialing those numbers was the hardest thing I had ever done. The yelling only grew as the phone rang, but I payed no attention to it. After an eternity, they picked up. 

“Hello?”