the inheritance games - a day in the life

Nash 🤠 🖤

Lunch is delicious, as always. Our plates are heaped with scrumptious dishes prepared thoughtfully by Mrs. Laughlin. Everyone has things they're picky about - as is the case in any large family - but on this table, there is something for everyone.

Sometimes, I get scared that I'm not grateful enough for everything I have. Because - let's be honest - I have a lot. Not just materialistic items, not just food or property, but people. People who love me no matter what.

I help Hannah choose her food. Libby and I are young parents, sure and this is our first kid. But we're rather proud of how we're raising her. Balanced diets, limited screens. Of course - yet again - I mustn't forget to be grateful that such stuff is even possible. Sure, we have a job, but neither of us work at the bakery full time.

Grated carrots with sesame, freshly baked rye, sliced cucumber, salami and hummus. I look around the table. I can't find Xander or Max, or - come to think of it - Gigi. The rest of us are here though, whatever adventures we had in the morning. Everyone is getting sick of these slow holiday days: I'm afraid I will turn into a lazy, fat guy. Like, no thank you!

After lunch, Libby and I tuck Hannah in for her afternoon nap. We ask Jameson to keep an eye on things with her. He doesn't seem too thrilled about that particular request, nor do I believe he will actually bother to carry it out. Anyway, she couldn't be anywhere safer.

Libby and I then go to the bakery by car. Libby goes to check on the kitchen, while I refresh the blackboards, talk to the staff and hang up some bunting. Someone booked a birthday party here for this evening, so it needs a bit of setting up. 

I don't spend long at the bakery, or at least not as long as Libby probably will. I wave bye to her, her hair and face already covered in flour. I want to go to the ranch. 

I take the bus, so Libby can drive home. When I arrive, I nod my head at Barry and make my way to the back. People are shooting clay pigeons. They look suspiciously like a corporate group, hopelessly trying out some team-building. I laugh under my breath, and make my way to the horses.

A few minutes later, my boots are on and I'm on the field and calling my horse. One of them. Okay, okay, don't shoot me: I am the grandson of a billionaire after all.

She's a dappled grey mare, named Moonbeam. I will now kindly ask you again to refrain from shooting me. I was ten, and into that stereotypical shit, okay? We listen and we don't judge.

When I'm on a horse, I feel like I truly belong. Cliché, but true. The gentle rhythm of Moonbeam beneath me, the slight breeze against my cheeks, the companions you make when riding. I go on a long, good ride. Out of the ranch, into the wild. We cross a few roads, even. 

I chose Moonbeam, because of her endurance. She doesn't quit, and can go on long rides. I've never pushed her into a gallop, never driven my spurs into her sides. As a result, she is the gentlest, calmest creature alive. 

When Hannah starts riding, and is finally ready for a full-sized horse, I know I can trust her. Hannah is of course not quite there yet. And good luck trying to get Libby on a horse. I'll stick to baking, thank you very much. Sorry, not sorry.

Avery was game though, once I managed to convince her. That girl is game for most things once she sets her mind to it. I admire her, truly, for getting through all this drama. 

Sometimes, I catch myself forgetting that she isn't actually my biological little sister. If anything, she's my sister-in-law. Or half-sister-in-law. God, we're complicated. And if she and Jameson ever tie the knot, she'll be my half-sister-in-law twice.

These thoughts drift to me, and I let them wander through my mind. A ride is truly the best time to contemplate life.