The Test (11 page)

Gina must have noticed Dan's puzzled look and came to his rescue. “Or maybe you don't? ESPN Sports?” She tossed out one more prompt. “Thursday nights?”

“Every guy's not a sports fan,” Monica said with a wink to her guy.

“Pat Nelson?” Dan finally sputtered. “Geez, man, I'll be damned. Yeah, I just didn't expect I'd be meeting the modern-day Jim McKay.”

“Glad to meet you,” the sports announcer grabbed Dan's hand. “Caught out of context, huh?”

“Right,” Dan said, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. “
Pat Nelson, Sports in Review
. Just last week, you interviewed Tiger Woods—the ‘Tiger Slam.' Geez, I'm sorry.”

“And my niece, Jenna,” Monica interrupted. “She's hanging out with me and Patrick this weekend.”

Dan held out his hand to a young woman with large hazel eyes and shoulder-length dark hair. He figured her to be about the same age as his twins.

“She's a real sports fan,” Nelson said. “Ask her anything. Any sports trivia.”

Monica chuckled. “Jenna, meet Dan Parnell, Terry and Carrie's father.”

Indeed Jenna was a sports fanatic and Dan detected a spark of mutual interest between her and Terry. But what would he know about kids that young and romance?

The meal provided both a leg of lamb with all the trimmings and a thorough analysis of professional sports, thankfully playing to one of Dan's limited conversational strengths. It wasn't until Monica and her retinue had left that Dan, for the first time since Gina had walked out on him, was alone with her and the twins. As Boney James played in the background, Dan sat on the sofa next to Gina, their bodies close, but not touching. Terry paced back and forth between the kitchen and living room, and Carrie sat comfortably by her mom.

“What's with all the pacing?” Gina asked. “Trying to work off the dinner?”

“It was great, Mom,” Terry said.

“Couldn't have done it without you two. Dan, did you know that the kids are fine cooks? Chefs, I should say, as in gourmet.”

“Mom, you exaggerate.” Carrie patted Gina's knee.

“We learned to fend for ourselves while Mom worked.” Terry's tone made Dan squirm. The kid had a chip on his shoulder. Who could blame him?

“Well, Terr, what do you think?” Carrie asked with a wide grin.

“About what?” Terry turned to give her a withering look.

“The gorgeous Jenna? Don't forget that I'm your twin. I can read your mind.”

“What's the deal? Are we related or not? Monica is my biological aunt.” He stopped and faced Dan. “But Jenna is the daughter of her adoptive brother. So there's not blood relationship. Right?”

“I guess, but remember she doesn't know about the Parnell-Monroe relationship,” Gina said. “So keep it hush-hush. Dan, when do you think the news that she's a Parnell will become public?”

“Don't know,” Dan said. “I don't deal in family politics.”

Terry shrugged, then he and Carrie chatted about Monica's concert and Nelson's television show until Carrie finally excused herself. Dan took that as his cue to say good night and stood up to leave. Immediately, he felt the void as the warmth from Gina's body next to his dissipated. But he couldn't change his mind and sit back down, so he thanked her again and headed out into the light drizzle toward his truck. Terry was waiting for him there, half hidden by a clump of palmettos.

“Can I talk to you a minute?” Terry asked.

“Uh—Sure.” Dan shoved a pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. “Hop in.” He went around to open the passenger door for Terry.

“Let me get the air cranked up.” Dan turned on the ignition, adjusted the fan, and turned off the Kenny G CD.

“What did you want to talk about?” Dan was the first to break a long silence between them.

Dan hadn't realized it, but Terry had two cans of beer in his hands—Coors.

“I don't know much about you,” Terry said, flipping off the lid of one can and handing the other to Dan. “You didn't say much in there.”

“I'm not much good at social stuff.” Dan shrugged, accepting the cold beer. “I pretty much stick to myself on my palm farm.”

“That's what you do?”

“Yup. Started the business in Lantana nine years ago. I grow the trees from seedlings, harvest them, sell them, plant them, the works.”

“I never knew. Mom never told us much about you. Just that she left—or you left—she was never clear.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was tough. Carrie and I were okay. Never knew you. Never missed you. But it was hard on Mom, raising two kids on her own.”

“How is she doing?” Dan knew this sounded stupid, but he had no idea how to communicate with his own son. What did Terry want to know about his past? About the Parnells? How much did he resent him for what happened twenty-two years ago?

“She's the reason I need to talk to you,” Terry said. “She's been through too much. You hurt her again—”

“Terry, I won't. I swear it.”

“Hey man, calm down. It's cool.” Terry took a slug of beer. “I just want to know what you're going to do?”

“What do you mean?”
What was Terry talking about?

“I mean, about my mother. Why do you think she invited you here today?”

“I guess because of—” Dan had asked himself this a million times. Curiosity? Did she pity him? Did she want the kids to get to know their old man? Or, could it be that she actually wanted to see him? After all these years? “I don't know.” Dan lowered his head and began shifting the unopened Coors from hand to hand.

“Mom wants to see you,” Terry said. “Though I don't know why. You never gave her one iota of support. You come from one of the wealthiest families in the world, and you offered her nothing. Us, nothing. Obviously you never gave a damn about us.”

“That's not true. She wouldn't accept anything.”

“Sounds like Mom,” Terry interrupted. “But what about Carrie and me? Never a word. Nothing. Sure, our last name. But never a hint that our biological father was one of
those
Parnells.”

What was Dan's excuse? The truth: he hadn't wanted to screw up their lives.

“Then mom gets a call,” Terry went on. “That attorney of yours, Schiller. Wants us all up north for the will. She says, no way. Then Schiller calls again. Sends down a goddamn private jet.”

“I didn't know.”

“Then we finally get a look at you and the grand Parnell family. The family that was too good for us. Too good for my mother. Isn't that it? Isn't that what happened?”

“All my fault.” Dan began to squirm. Of course, Terry must hate him. But what could he do to make amends? “What do you want me to do? How can I ever make it up to you and Carrie? Your mother?”

“You can never make it up.” Terry said, jiggling the empty Coors can. “Mom's forty-five years old. No way you can give her back those years. No way Carrie and I can ever have a real father. You know what? Mom never even had a boyfriend. You know what I mean?”

Dan nodded, all at once feeling elated—and guilty.

“And now she can't wait to hear from you. I know about those letters you've been sending her. What's that all about?”

Dan felt like a child being scolded by an adult. “Look, Terry, the truth is I don't know what to do. Yes, I want to see her and you and Carrie.”

“I have some ideas,” Terry said, reaching over, taking Dan's unopened beer can, flipping off the tab, and handing it back.

“What are you thinking?” Dan asked.

“About your old man's estate,” Terry said. “What's going on?”

“When Dad died, he left most of his money to a trust. You heard that when the will was read,” Dan answered.

“I caught that much. Can you get that money?”

“Truth is, I don't want it,” Dan said, uneasily, turning to face Terry. “I live very simply.”

“How about us?”

Where was his son going with this? “Uh, your mother—I mean, she never wanted anything. You heard what she said.”

“How about us?” Terry leaned in toward Dan and waved his hand in front of him. “Carrie and me?”

Dan gasped at the appalling truth: he had never even once thought
about passing his inheritance to his children. He felt a sudden sense of horror. Why had he assumed that they would feel the same as Gina? Why hadn't he reached out to them? They're twenty-three years old now, he realized.

“So Mom's Mom,” Terry went on. “Can you believe it? All that money Paul Parnell gives her? She gives it all to charity. Wouldn't even use it to pay off our college loans. “Mom's a stubborn and proud woman.”

“Yes,” Dan said. “My father tried to get her to take money over the years. She sent everything back.”

“Carrie and I each got a million from your old man. That's all well and good, but what about the rest? There's supposed to be almost two billion. So, what do you have to do to get it?”

“Be the person my father wanted me to be.” For the first time Dan seriously considered Dad's bizarre challenge. “Do the things he said in the letter.”

“The letter?”

“Before he died, my father wrote a personal letter to each of us.”

“What did it say?” Terry prodded.

Dan was not sentimental, but these last words of his father had etched themselves on his brain.

Dan clutched the steering wheel and recited, eyes staring ahead. “The letter said that he and my mother were so happy when I was born. How after my mother was killed, he felt that he had neglected me and Frank. That he let my Parnell grandparents practically raise us. That when he met Vivian, he was happy again, but that was too late for me since I was getting ready to leave for college.”

“Neglected you? Those were his words?” Terry asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes, and he said that he was sorry.”

“Neglect must run in the family. So, how does it relate to your inheritance?”

“He developed a code of values that he wants us all to endorse.”

“What are they, specifically?”

“First, family. He wanted me to reconcile with you and your mother and your sister. He said, ‘Gina's integrity humbles me.' His exact words.” Dan felt his voice start to tremble and tears prick his eyes.

“Ho-l-y shit.” Terry let out a long breath.

Dan continued, wanting to get this all out. “He's big into religion. Into family. And he wants us to be generous.”

“Be generous?” Terry reflected. “Yeah, I remember the part about the four points. God, family, community. What was the fourth?”

“Professional responsibility,” Dan answered.

“That all?” Terry asked, settling back, crunching the Coors can between his hands.

“Just that he hopes I endorse his credo, have success and happiness, that he's sorry he missed so much of my life.”

“Just like me,” Terry breathed. “Your old man wasn't around much?”

“Honestly, Terry, it was so long ago.”

“You think the old man meant this shit?”

“I'm convinced he meant it.”

“Any problem if I share this with Carrie?”

“Of course not.” Dan wondered bitterly why he hadn't taken the initiative himself. Again he'd let his selfishness overwhelm his responsibilities.

“Are you going with it?” Terry asked. “Going to—shall we say—comply?”

Dan turned to face his son. “Terry, I hadn't intended to do anything about it. But if you feel that I should—”

“Yes, definitely, you should.”

“I just hadn't considered it. I mean, with my simple life.” As Dan sat with Terry in the chilly air of the truck, reality struck. Terry was right. Of course he had to go after the inheritance. For the first time, maybe he could do something for his family.

“Believe me, for someone who's never had any, money's important,” Terry said, pointing to the garage out back. “I bought myself a Beemer with Granddad's money—cherry red. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Pretty cool,” Dan said, turning to face him. “Terry, I'll do whatever I can.”

“Sounds like the right thing,” Terry paused. “Should I start calling you Dad? Like, isn't that what your old man wanted?”

“Yes,” Dan said, his eyes now leaking tears. “That would be good.”

“Sounds weird. Dad.” Terry paused. “Yes, I can do it. Wait 'til I tell
Carrie. You know, she likes you. Must have been that weepy scene in New York.”

“Now, that was embarrassing,” Dan said, feeling the flush rising up his neck. The kids needed a man for a father, not a crying baby.

“Dad, you want to make everything up to us? Pass this test. Become Mister Family Man, Mister Religious Leader, Mister Community, Mister Financial Genius. I mean, say there's a couple billion that's going to be divided up. Right? Six siblings divided into that.” Terry slammed his fist on the dashboard. “Boggles my mind. You know Mom makes about forty grand a year. Let's see, to make that much, she'd have to work for five thousand years. And you act like it's chicken shit.”

“It's just that I like living simply.”

“And you could be living like a king.” Terry took Dan's untouched beer can. “I don't get it.”

“I should have reached out to you and to Carissa.” Dan said, sputtering out the words. “I was just too scared. I don't know, of rejection, I guess.”

“No worries.” Terry drank a slug of beer and reached over to squeeze Dan's shoulder.

“I'm glad we had this talk,” Dan said, sensing the beginnings of a new relationship.

“We got a plan then?” Terry started to open the truck door. “About the inheritance stuff?”

Dan nodded an affirmative.

“Just one more thing,” Terry said, glancing at the overflowing ashtray. “Mom is so antismoking. Never forget how she freaked out that time she caught me and Carrie out behind the palmettos with a pack of Marlboros. Must come with being a nurse.”