Chapter 10 - The Family Gathering at the Country Club
Two weeks later, my phone rang. It was an unexpected number, but one I recognized instantly: my father, Arthur.
I let it ring three times before swiping to answer.
"Fletcher?" Arthur’s voice sounded older, thinner, and remarkably strained. The arrogant patriarch of the family seemed to have aged five years in the span of a single month. Sterling’s landscaping business had officially gone into bankruptcy liquidation, Paige had filed for divorce, and the family social circle had thoroughly distanced themselves from the scandal.
"What do you want, Dad?" I asked calmly, sitting at the kitchen island of our newly purchased suburban home—a bright, spacious house with a sprawling backyard and a quiet study for Iris.
"Fletcher... look, we need to talk," Arthur stammered, clearing his throat awkwardly. "The family... things have been very difficult lately. Sterling is in a terrible spot, his marriage is falling apart, and... well, we were hoping we could all get together. Clear the air. Have a nice family dinner at the Oakridge Country Club. On me."
I almost laughed out loud. The Oakridge Country Club was the most exclusive, expensive venue in the county—the very place Arthur and Sterling used to brag about hosting their elite family gatherings.
"A family dinner at the country club, huh?" I mused, looking out the window at Iris practicing her parking in the driveway with her new car—a sensible, reliable sedan I had bought her for college.
"Yes!" Arthur jumped on the opening, his voice picking up false hope. "A fresh start, Fletcher! Bring Iris. We want to celebrate her going off to Wakefield State properly. Let bygones be bygones, eh?"
"Dad," I said, my voice dropping into a calm, ice-cold register. "You told me to my face that my daughter was never the guest of honor."
"Fletcher, that was a misunderstanding—"
"And Sterling stole her graduation money to pay off his catering debts."
"He's learned his lesson! The poor boy has lost everything—"
"Well, here's the funny thing about that," I interrupted smoothly. "Iris and I won't be attending your dinner at the Oakridge Country Club."
"And why the hell not?!" Arthur’s temper flared instantly, the thin veneer of humility cracking to reveal the same arrogant tyrant underneath. "I am offering an olive branch! I am paying for the best venue in town! What more do you want from us?!"
"You still don't get it, do you, Dad?" I said quietly. "You think everything can be bought, overridden, or smoothed over with expensive dinners and hollow titles. But you're missing the main event."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm not coming to your dinner," I continued, leaning back comfortably in my chair. "Because this coming Saturday night... I am hosting a private celebration for my daughter at the Oakridge Country Club. In the grand ballroom."
Dead silence fell over the line.
Arthur’s breath hitched. "You... you rented the Oakridge ballroom? With what money? You work a standard—"
"I worked a standard job, yes," I cut him off, a faint smile playing on my lips. "But it turns out Uncle Richard left me a rather substantial inheritance. Two point four million dollars in real estate and liquid assets, to be exact. And under his strict will, every single dime of it bypassed you and Sterling completely."
The phone line went utterly, deafeningly silent. I could practically hear the gears grinding in my father's brain as the monumental reality of what he had lost crashed down upon him.
"Fletcher..." Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with sudden, desperate realization. "Fletcher, wait—we're family—"
"No, Dad," I said softly. "We're not. You made your choice at the Elmwood Grill. Now you get to sit at the empty table."
May you like
I hung up the phone, blocked his number for good, and walked out to the front porch where Iris was stepping out of her new car, holding her driver's license up with a triumphant grin.
The sun was shining, the future was bright, and the Yates family drama was finally, permanently behind us.
