One

T he day was wet, cold, cloudy, gray. Genesis dispassionately viewed the rain. As if to generate a bigger reaction, the downpour increased. She all but gave the sky a side-eye. For her the rain was perfect. The dreariness fit her mood. Matter of fact, her world had been cloudy for a while now. When it came to the proverbial storms of life lately, it hadn’t rained but poured. Lost job due to downsizing. Lost cash due to bad choices. After becoming unemployed, she’d put everything—heart, soul, time, money—into a dream that wasn’t her own, but one that was supposed to pay off. Now she’d be lucky to get back any of the $5,000 from her rainy-day fund she’d loaned her ex. In her world it was literally and figuratively monsooning right now.

And the latest? Hearing that one of her favorite people in the world had died. The onslaught of back-to-back, one-thing-after-the-other situations threatened to derail the momentum she’d proudly gained before all hell broke loose. Present uncertainties had stirred up old, deep insecurities. Childhood-deep. Teenage-deep. s she thought long buried, involving self-esteem, confidence and feeling like she mattered and belonged. Said insecurity now presented itself as a low-level panic as she headed to the office of her great-uncle’s attorney. Cyrus had two sons with children, which meant Cyrus had grandchildren. Her distant cousins. Plenty next of kin. What could the attorney need to discuss with her? of her fondest teenage memories on her uncle’s farm was riding his tractor. Maybe Uncle Cyrus had willed her that old John Deere.

The image of a younger her in dungarees—Cyrus-speak—traipsing across the land on a farm implement lifted her mood and brought out her first smile of the day. Traces remained as she crossed the hall and went through a door marked Young and Associates. The cheery receptionist, an older, attractive woman with gray hair in a contemporary bob cut, directed her to a nearby hallway.

“They’re in the conference room,” she said with a hand in that direction. “First door on the right.”

They? Genesis thanked the woman, crossed the room and walked to the door. The sound of voices drifted through the door. Cyrus’s sons? A room filled with next of kin? The nervous flutters increased but one thing was for sure. Nothing was going to be found out standing in the hallway. She tapped lightly before opening the door.

Three pairs of eyes looked over.

“Hi.”

The greeting sounded how she’d felt as a ten-year-old thrown in a room of strangers.

A short, balding man stood and walked toward her with the authority of someone who owned the place.

“Ms. Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Hello, I’m Al Young, Cyrus’s attorney and longtime friend. Come join us.” He gestured for her to have a seat at the table. “You know Cyrus’s sons, Clarence and Cleo.”

The men stood, their expressions unreadable. raised his brow and took a step toward her with an outstretched hand.

“You’re Walker’s daughter, Genny?”

“Yes.” A small smile eked through. “I haven’t heard that nickname since graduating high school. I now prefer and go by my full name, Genesis.”

“Genesis. Okay.”

“You’re...Cleo?”

“Clarence.”

They all shook hands. She sat. “What happened? I just spoke with Uncle Cyrus two weeks ago. He sounded fine.”

“Prostate cancer,” Cleo replied. “He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“My condolences to both of you. And apologies for not being able to tell you apart. Embarrassing since we’re cousins.”

“No problem. It’s been a long time.”

It had indeed. Genesis didn’t have many memories of Cyrus’s sons on his property. During the weekends she visited the Holy Mound countryside, it was their children, namely their daughters, spending time on the farm.

“You look different than I remember,” Clarence said.

“Ten years, weight loss and corrective eye surgery,” Genesis replied.

“That’ll do it.”

They shared a chuckle. The tension lessened.

“How are Tiffany and Kayla?”

Cleo responded. “Kayla’s fine, busy. She’s married and has two children. Her husband’s military. They live in Virginia.”

“Nobody’ll marry Tiffany,” Clarence joked. “She loves her job, though. Works for a casino on the Strip. They’ll be at the funeral.”

“I saw them almost every summer at Uncle Cyrus’s house from childhood through my early teens. Good memories. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen or spoken with them in forever. It will be great to see them again.”

“Your father, Walker, loved the country. Before leaving the South, I know he spent a lot of time on the farm. Is that how you met Daddy?”

The question was a legitimate one, and not asked unkindly. Still, it was like pulling a scab off a wound. Memories of Genesis with her father were hazy, and rare. At the time her mother became pregnant, a baby didn’t fit into Walker’s plans. Theirs had been a casual hookup while on a brief break from the woman who would become his wife. After their wedding, he’d left the South and, while she knew Cyrus had encouraged him to do otherwise, cut off contact with mother and child. Forgot his firstborn. Genesis’s arrival had almost cost him the love of his life. Walker’s dad, her paternal grandfather and Cyrus’s brother, had died relatively young. She felt that was why Cyrus worked so hard to make her feel special, included, part of the family. For that alone, she would always love him and felt bad that in later years, and with him now gone, she hadn’t reached out to him more often.

“I didn’t really know Walker,” she finally answered. “Cyrus kept in touch with my mom, Lori. Do you know her?”

Cleo shook his head. “I never met your mother. I do remember Dad mentioning her, and you.”

Another dash of salt spilled into Genesis’s emotional wound. Had her mom met any of Walker’s family besides Cyrus? Or was it his shame of her that got passed down to Genesis? Created the maternal emotional distance she’d always felt. Questions about her father were strongly discouraged. Lori didn’t like to talk about the past.

Genesis forced her mind back to now. “She’d drop me off on weekends and longer during the summer to hang out with Uncle Cyrus and...his lady friend.”

The men shared a look. “Which one?” Clarence asked.

Genesis laughed. The men did, too, including Al Young the attorney, bringing warmth to the cool, still slightly uncomfortable atmosphere permeating the room.

“Daddy loved the women,” Cleo offered, with a smile.

Al cleared his throat. “If I may add, the women loved him, too. And as fascinating as we all find Cyrus’s colorful love life—” he checked his watch “—we should probably get to the business at hand.”

“I’m not sure why I’m here,” Genesis softly admitted.

“I have brought you all together to convey Cyrus’s wishes as laid out in a will contained in his trust.”

Clarence eyed Genesis thoughtfully, with what-does-this-have-to-do-with-her written all over his face. His eyes shifted over to the attorney. “Okay, Al, let’s do this.”

Cleo leaned forward and steepled his hands. His expression was measured. No verbal response.

Al flipped through a few pages, adjusted his glasses, then, after spouting a page of legalese mumbo jumbo, came to the bequeathing. “‘To my son Cleo, I bequeath my stamp and coin collection. The stamp collection might not be worth much but some of those coins might become valuable someday, at least more than the rocks and dead bugs you collected as a child.’”

Genesis watched Cleo’s eyes mist over. His smile was bittersweet.

“You did collect some crazy stuff, bro,” Clarence reminded him, with a soft poke to his arm.

“Digging in all that dirt as a child is probably what turned me into a city man.”

The two men laughed. Clarence added, “Dad didn’t get the farmer he hoped for, that’s for sure.”

The two men bumped fists.

Their attention returned to Al.

“‘To my son Clarence, I bequeath my pocket watch. As a boy, I swore you’d be late to your own funeral.’”

Cleo laughed. “That’s Daddy. He used to tell you that all the time!”

Clarence nodded. “Sure did.”

Genesis listened, appreciating this banter between her cousins. She knew so little about them and wanted to know more. She also couldn’t wait to see Tiffany and Kayla. Meanwhile, she started thinking about where she could store a tractor.

Al continued, “‘Regarding the property located in the unincorporated section of Holy Mound, Tennessee...’”

Genesis’s mind drifted as Al went on about longitudes and latitudes, SW here and NW there.

“‘...all such lands along with all outer buildings and properties, and all contents contained within or without, except that which is otherwise stated, shall become the singular property of Genesis Hunter.’”

Genesis’s jaw dropped as she slammed back into reality. The air left the room. The warmth from the brothers that moments ago cascaded like a snuggly wool blanket receded like a wave before the tsunami it created crashed into her as raised voices, in stereo.

Clarence: “What the hell?”

Cleo, over Clarence: “Excuse me?”

Clarence, over Cleo: “What do you mean, she gets the farm?”

Al, with hands raised: “Gentlemen, please—”

Cleo: “There’s no way Daddy did that.”

Clarence: “Let me see the will.”

Al, louder: “Clarence. Cleo. Gentlemen, please!”

The cacophony ended as abruptly as it began.

Al placed his elbows on the conference table. “I understand your reaction. I can imagine this news comes as a surprise.”

“You got damn right it does,” Clarence said, looking ready to huff, puff and blow down the house.

Cleo, easily the calmer, more restrained of the two, simply crossed his arms.

“That you two would be upset is something I reiterated to Cyrus more than once as we went through various revisions.”

“Revisions?” Cleo asked. “You mean her stealing what’s rightfully ours?” He looked at Genesis. “Just how exactly did you talk our father into this?”

“I had nothing to do with any of this! I’m...shocked!”

“She’s right, gentlemen,” Al said. “Ms. Hunter is also just now hearing the news. Your father knew the two of you would be upset. However, I can assure you these are his wishes.”

“Daddy must have lost his mind,” Clarence mumbled.

“Couldn’t have been thinking clearly,” Cleo agreed.

“I need to see a copy of the will,” Clarence demanded.

Al looked from one brother to the other. “That will be up to Genesis. As sole executor of the trust, she is the only one to whom I can issue a copy.”

Clarence stood abruptly. “This is bullshit.”

“They can see the will,” Genesis said, emotion painting the outburst. “I can’t believe Uncle Cyrus did this. Y’all can have the farm.”

A soft chuckle accompanied Al’s tight smile. “Genesis, that is exactly what Cyrus imagined you’d say, which is why there are specific instructions accompanying the deed transfer to your name. We’ll go over those details in a moment.”

He stood, walked over to a credenza and picked up two boxes, one larger than the other.

“Cleo, the collections.” He set down the larger box.

“Clarence, your dad’s prized pocket watch. Over our two-decade friendship, if I saw him check that thing once, I saw it a thousand times.”

He walked to the office phone and buzzed the receptionist. “Kate, I need copies made of Cyrus Perry’s will.”

He turned to Cyrus’s sons. “Gentlemen, I wish we’d met under more pleasant circumstances. Cyrus was a good man. They don’t make ’em like that anymore. As shocked as you may be about his decisions, know that he loved the two of you very much. Spoke of you often. Wished you well. So do I.”

He continued standing, an obvious dismissal.

“That’s it?” Clarence asked. “I’m supposed to walk out of here with a watch and call it a day?”

“Kate will give each of you a copy of the will on your way out. Take time to read it. Let everything settle. Then feel free to give me a call next week. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have to the best of my ability.”

Clarence looked at Genesis. “I’m not willing to wait until next week. We need to discuss this now.”

“We were going to grab a bite in town after this meeting,” Cleo added in a nicer tone. “A place called Holy Moly. Maybe you can join us.”

Genesis felt she had no choice. “Okay.”

Clarence rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “I apologize for my earlier outburst. This news is completely unexpected, but as family, I’m sure we can work it out.”

“I agree,” she readily admitted, still in shock.

The group shook hands. The twins left the office. Transferring the property and its contents from Cyrus to Genesis took ten minutes, three pages and two signatures. She left the building in a daze and followed the GPS instructions by rote. If asked details about the short trip, she would have been stumped. She’d basically driven across town without seeing a thing.

Holy Moly was a casual, bustling establishment with blond floors, stark white walls, stainless steel fixtures and live, leafy plants. Genesis shook out and folded her umbrella before stepping into the dining area and looking around. Her eyes drifted across the crowded room and landed on Clarence. She started in his direction. He sat at a booth with two men sitting across from him. She recognized the side of Cleo’s face, but who was the other guy? Had they already contacted a lawyer and were preparing to sue? Genesis mentally braced herself and continued to the table. Clarence looked up as she approached and stood.

“Genesis!” he said, smiling, an expression completely opposite of the one she’d last seen as they parted ways. “Come. Sit. There’s someone we want you to meet.”

He moved to the side. She slid into the booth, careful not to knock over Clarence’s water glass with her purse. Once seated, she looked across the table...

And straight into the eyes of a man, a one-night stand it had taken her years to forget.