“Remember these, Captain?”
“How could I forget? That reminds me, did you happen to notice that old man George showed up at the funeral in one of my uniforms? I just can’t figure out how he gets into my place and steals my shit. Turns out, he’s been swindling all these ladies, telling them he used to be an airline pilot. He gets them tailored to fit and everything. He’s lucky I don’t blow his cover.”
“Let him have his fun. He’s an innocent old hornball.”
Just then a knock on the door interrupted our laughter.
When I opened it, a man in a gray suit was standing there, holding a folder.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for Carter Clynes.”
Carter put down the box he’d been sifting through. “That’s me. How can I help you?”
“Gary Steinberg. I’m Gordon Reitman’s attorney.”
“Attorney? He had an attorney? He didn’t even have a cell phone.”
“Yes. I’ve been with Gordy for years.”
“How can I help you?”
“He instructed me to give you this note upon his passing. Perhaps, you should read it first, and then we can go over his will.”
“Will?”
“Yes. Mr. Reitman had a significant amount of money. He left you as the sole beneficiary.”
“No, you don’t understand. He had lost his mind some years back. He thought I was his son. He meant to leave everything to Brucey. I can’t in good faith take anything from him, knowing he intended for it to go to his son.”
“You are Carter Clynes?”
“Yes.”
“He specifically named you, not Bruce Reitman.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe the letter will explain.”
The lawyer gave him the small white envelope. Carter opened it and carefully unfolded the paper inside. After he read it, he looked stunned. Then, he handed it to me.
I know.
Thank you for letting me pretend it was true.
I could never repay you, but I’m going to try.
Sincerely,
Gordon C. Reitman, III
Wow.
Just wow.
Carter shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. All this time he knew I wasn’t his son?”