Con Artist Legacy

Chapter One: The Funeral

Chapter One: The Funeral

Olivia Stone

It felt wrong that I wasn’t crying, but I had done enough of that in the past three years. The last couple of months had been especially heartbreaking, which was why I couldn’t be upset right now. How could I be sad that my grandfather, who had been in excruciating pain, had finally passed on?

I knew that I may be the only one that actually missed him and not his money. That was the reason Rosswood’s small church was currently standing room only. Despite everything my grandfather was a generous man and everyone here was wondering if all their sucking up had landed them a spot on his will. A fact that might have made someone else mad, but I knew he wasn’t perfect.

Damien Reynaldi was a strict man with too many rules, a “my way or the high way” kind of guy. Born into a modest household he took great pride in his social and financial status. In all fairness (to everyone else) it was more like an obsession, which made him adamant that his family follow in his foot-steps.  I knew this first hand because I grew up in his house. I remember being forced to study for eight or ten hours a day, every single day. There was no recess, weekends or spring breaks for us.

I can’t say that I blame anyone forced into keeping their distance because of his behavior. I would say there were two exceptions to this rule, my crazy grandmother and myself. I just wish everyone else got to know the man I did, or better yet the kid trapped in that man’s body.

Oh the memories.

“Olivia stop swinging your feet, it is not proper behavior for a lady.” Aunt Tere said for the fifth time that day. I knew it probably couldn’t be helped, but I tried anyway because Aunt Tere was not someone you wanted mad at you. She was mean and ugly, probably mean because she was ugly. I mean she wore power suits like every day and had her hair pulled back so tightly that it stretched her skin. It was gross.

I glanced up just in time to see her staring at me again. Wait did she just ask me a question? My eyes darted around the room for clues. I looked at my cousin Victoria because she was smart and most likely the only one paying attention. The only problem was that she was worse than Aunt Tere and just looked at me smugly. I could have looked at her sister Elena, but honestly she wasn’t the sharpest crayon.

“Can you repeat the question Ms. Montana?” I asked with my best angelic look (She was my aunt but during “class” she insisted on being just the teacher). I didn’t think my look was working because she walked slowly towards me, stopping right in front of my desk and stared straight into my eyes.

“No.” She answered and made a note on her clipboard. Well that wasn’t good at all. Too many marks and I would get extra homework. Victoria, the smarty pants answered next and I begin to lose focus again.

Wait…did one of the panels from the hallway move? I stared discreetly until I was sure that the panel was wiggling. I felt a smile creep onto my face and my hand shot up. I knew everyone knew I had my hand up, but Aunt Tere was taking her time acknowledging me because of earlier. I also knew she wouldn’t risk me having an accident…which I had done before. It didn’t matter, I could wait. This had to be done right or it wouldn’t work.

“Olivia?” She finally asked.

“Ms. Montana, may I go to the bathroom?” I asked in a soft voice. “I am not feeling so well.” I made a show of grabbing my tummy. I saw her wave her hand which meant yes. I got up and walked away slowly, making sure to close the door behind me. Just in case anyone else wanted to stare into the hallway.