Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

“Attention what?”

“‘Attention must be paid.’ It’s from Death of a Salesman .”

Todd looked at her blankly.

“The play? Death of a Salesman ?”

“I don’t go to a lot of plays. Concerts, sometimes. I saw Metallica one time. They were awesome.”

“I haven’t seen the actual play, either,” Chloe said. “But I read it. In school. And it’s been made into a movie a few times.”

“I like the Avengers movies. All the Marvel ones.”

A brief look of disappointment crossed Chloe’s face. Just because you were related to someone didn’t necessarily mean you were going to have similar interests. But she wasn’t going to stop looking for common ground.

“You still got grandparents?”

“They’ve passed. I never really got to know them. They all died before I was, like, five years old. My mom’s got an old aunt. We used to visit her every year. My mom still does, but when I got a bit older I found some excuse to get out of it. And now, well, I moved out a couple of years ago. I’ve got a trailer, which sounds kind of shitty, but it’s nice. I like having my own place.” He grinned. “And I’m right next to the fire station, so if it blows up or anything, they’ll be there in no time.”

“You in one of those parks, with a bunch of retired people?”

“No, I got my trailer on its own lot. Just me. No old people.”

“Oh.”

Todd sensed some disapproval in Chloe’s tone, so he added, “But I talk to them on the phone.”

“Who?”

“Old people.” He forced a grin. “Sort of like sales calls. Talk to them all the time.”

Seattle, WA

Marissa Pritkin thought her brother would be excited about her news. Instead, he lost his shit.

After all, it wasn’t every day you discovered new relatives. Wasn’t that something to celebrate? Or, at the very least, be somewhat curious about? He didn’t even ask her who she’d connected with.

Maybe, she told herself, she’d caught him at a bad time. He did tell her he was in the middle of throwing a party. For anybody else, that would be like interrupting someone when they were watching TV. Her brother was always hosting one event or another. Some fundraiser with Bill Gates to fight malaria, an opening-night celebration for a Broadway show he’d invested in, or a bash to raise money for some political candidate — didn’t matter which party; her brother was always looking to make friends on both sides of the aisle. Jeremy always had something going on. She Googled him about once a week to see what he’d been up to, what TV show he might have appeared on, what think piece he might have written for the Times or the Post .

They’d kept in touch, Marissa and Jeremy, even if they didn’t see each other all that often. If work took him to Seattle, he might invite her and Walter, her husband, out to an expensive dinner, if time allowed. He did all the talking, dropping names like geese dropped turds. There wasn’t a president, prime minister, king or queen, or famous entertainer Jeremy hadn’t met at some point.

Marissa would wait all through dinner, wondering, will he ask me even one question about our lives? How we’re doing? Where we went on vacation last year? What show we’re binge-watching these days?

The closest Jeremy got to being inquisitive about their lives was when he asked how their portfolio was doing. Because that was really a question about himself, and whether all the insider tips he’d passed along to them had paid off.

Of course, they almost always had. Often, big-time. Marissa had to admit she and Walter wouldn’t be in the house they were in now, in Seattle’s North Beach neighborhood with a drop-dead-amazing view of Puget Sound, if it weren’t for some of the tips Jeremy had passed along. And, to be fair, he had been more than generous where she and Walter and the kids were concerned. Not that Marissa and her husband didn’t do okay. She ran an insurance brokerage and Walter was an orthodontist. But even with a good income, sometimes your children’s interests could cost you more than you’d budgeted for, like when their son Zachary became obsessed with everything horse related.

Well, Jeremy had always loved horses, too, so what did he do? Bought Zachary a horse, paid to board it at a stable, and even covered the cost of all the riding lessons. You didn’t have to ask Zachary who his favorite uncle was.

So, when Marissa got her results back from WhatsMyStory, she felt she owed it to her brother to call him first with the news.

“According to this,” she said, “I share about 25 percent of my DNA with this other person, which suggests it’s a niece or a nephew. Now this other person and I just have to agree to disclose our identities and we can connect. A niece or nephew? How is that even possible?”

Of course, Marissa had already considered the fact that Jeremy might have gotten someone pregnant years ago and that this person had never disclosed this fact to him. All the more reason to tell him, she figured, and all the more reason why she figured he would be curious.

Jeremy had not responded well.

Accused his sister of meddling in his affairs. How could she do something like this without consulting him first?

And then he’d said he couldn’t discuss it any further, that he would be in touch later. Later turned out to be the following night, after Walter got home from work. They were both on the deck, sitting down in their comfortable chairs, each with a glass of wine, looking out over the sound, when Marissa’s cell rang.

Jeremy was only a minute into his rant when Marissa put the phone on speaker so that Walter could hear how upset her brother was.

“What were you thinking?” he asked her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, keeping her voice level and controlled. “Lots of people have done this. Millions of people have done this.”

“Well, now you’re as foolish as the rest of them.”

“I don’t understand what’s foolish about wanting to know where you came from, who you are, what other relatives you might—”

“Jesus, Marissa, don’t the relatives we already have give us enough grief? Why ask for more?”

At this point, Walter could no longer remain silent. He didn’t much care for the way his brother-in-law was speaking to his wife.

“Jeremy,” he said. “Walter here.”

Silence from the other end of the line for a moment. “Hello, Walter.”

“Do you think maybe you’re overreacting to this a bit? Marissa meant no harm.”

This time, Jeremy was quiet for so long they thought the connection had been lost.

“Jer?” Marissa asked. “Did we lose you?”

“I’m here,” he said coolly. “Walter, could I talk to you a second, off speaker?”

Walter glanced at his wife, as though looking for permission. This was her brother, after all. She shrugged, allowing Walter to pick up her phone, hit the button turning off the speaker, and put the phone to his ear.

“I’m here, Jeremy.” Walter got out of his chair, stood at the railing, watching what looked like a whale breaking the surface of the water.

“Good. Walter, listen closely, and try not to give away anything by acting shocked or startled.”

“What? What are you talking—”

“See? You’re already acting shocked and startled. So put your game face on and listen to what I have to say.”

Walter took a moment to compose himself. “Okay, then,” he said.

“I know where the money’s going.”

Walter suddenly felt a shiver run the length of his spine, and he nearly blurted out a What? but instead managed to remain calm and said slowly, “Go on.”