Douglas raised his cup toward the mourners. “To Walter,” he announced, “who spent his life chasing airplanes and left his daughter chasing creditors. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Uncle Doug will help you liquidate.” A few cousins snickered. My aunt Marlene actually clapped. I let them finish. Then I stepped away from the casket and opened the leather folder I’d been holding against my hip all morning.
“Since we’re doing announcements,” I said, “let’s do them properly.” The room quieted. I slid out the first document. “Dad restructured Hayes Aviation Components eighteen months ago. It’s not a sole proprietorship anymore. It’s an S-corp, and I’ve been the majority shareholder since the day he was diagnosed.” Douglas’s cup stopped mid-swirl. “Last quarter we cleared four point two million in net revenue. Boeing renewed us in March. Lockheed signed in June.”
Marlene’s clapping hand drifted down to her lap. I pulled out the second document. “This is the loan Dad co-signed for you in 2019, Douglas. The one you told him you’d paid off. You didn’t. He covered every missed payment for four years without telling anyone. There’s a lien on your house. It transferred to the estate at midnight. To me.”
He made a sound like a tire losing air. I placed the third document on the guestbook table. “And this is the recording Dad’s nurse made three weeks ago, when you visited him in hospice and asked him to change his will. He said no. You called him a stubborn old fool and told him I’d run the company into the ground inside a year.” I looked up. “I’d like to invite you to watch me try.”
Douglas opened his mouth. Nothing came out. I closed the folder softly. “The service starts in ten minutes. You’re welcome to stay, Uncle Doug. Just remember, every seat in this room now technically belongs to me.” I walked back to my father’s casket, rested my palm on the polished wood, and finally, quietly, let myself cry.
