So there it was. I was a boy, just turned eighteen, without a father.
Dad, who had been very ill for a few months, had died two weeks earlier and it could not have come at a worse time. Relationships with my stepmom and with my sister were at an all-time low and I was now on my own.
I had just finished school and was doing part-time summer work until my University course started in September. My stepmom couldn't wait for me to leave home.
After Mom's death, when I was an infant, Dad had eventually remarried, getting wed to a woman twenty years his junior. I came to understand why he did it. She was an auburn haired beauty.
Dad was wealthy at the time of his second marriage and, because he had heard stories of younger women marrying for money, insisted on a prenuptial agreement. In the event my stepmom behaved well enough for the marriage to last and at one point Dad was more in love than ever. However, towards the end I am sure he had his misgivings, although being ill he could do nothing about it.
To ensure I understood the new relationship, she had insisted I called her "Mommy" from the start and continued on that insistence right through my schooling. She also insisted as well that Dad referred to her as "Mommy" when he spoke to me.
I don't know why she disliked me. I had a sister who was two years older than me and the two of them seemed to hit it off from the start. My stepmom paid for Cynthia to have the nicest dresses for the school dances. Anything Cynthia wanted to do, from horse riding lessons to ballet classes, was immediately agreed.
I, on the other hand, rarely had things agreed. It was only when my Dad stepped in, to insist on Billy having his share, that my stepmom would grudgingly agree.
Unfortunately, Cynthia had the same selfish attitudes as her stepmom, which is probably why they got on so well.
I sat sadly at Dad's funeral a week after he died. He and I had always got on well. When I was younger we enjoyed fishing together and I helped him with jobs around the house. I only wished I'd done more with him before he became ill. I'd seen the signs that he was not as healthy as he should have been, but I was very tied up with final exams.
Cynthia was at the funeral of course, dressed in a coat that hid her figure. At twenty, she looked gorgeous, a lot like the pictures I had seen of my mom before she died.
Cynthia was a tall busty blonde beauty, at five feet nine she was only two inches less than me. We didn't look much alike except for our thick earlobes which seemed to run on my dad's side of the family. She had been the schoolgirl most boys in the neighborhood fantasized about as they jacked off, including me.
She had just come back from a two year gap trip round Europe, paid for by my family. At the end of the summer, she was to start at New York University, also paid for by my family. She wouldn't be sharing student accommodation of course, but renting an apartment in Lower Manhattan near her campus.
Now she was back in town for the summer, she was staying with some girlfriends while apparently doing nothing but swimming and sunbathing.
At the funeral my stepmom looked as beautiful as ever. At thirty-seven years of age, she was a Christina Hendricks lookalike and deliberately dressed to enhance all her attributes. When she first arrived in our house, she used to hug me to her bosom to emphasize she was my new Mommy. I hated it at first but, when I hit my teens, she gradually realized how much I enjoyed snuggling hard against her big breasts and immediately ceased any kind of physical affection with me.
Directly after the funeral, my stepmom took me aside and told me that in his Will, Dad had left me nothing. She had been left the house and all the cash and investments. She said that my father had asked her to look after Cynthia, but that I was to look after myself.
Charitably, she said that I could stay in the house for two weeks to sort out my room and my things in the garage, but after that she never wanted to see me again.
I was devastated. Not because my father had not left me anything in his Will, but at the thought that he hadn't cared for me.
I knew I would be able to survive. To get through college, I would have to use my small amount of savings, obtain a loan and find a job to pay for my day to day expenses. Somehow I would get by and it cheered me up a bit to think that at least Dad believed I would survive on my own.
I was still feeling very down, when two days later I was coming back from my summer job and saw a well-dressed business man waiting by our front door.
"Billy Smith?" he asked.
When I gave an assent, he presented me with a large envelope and explained that he had been told to give it to me personally. He then disappeared, leaving me puzzled.
I wearily went in the house and straight to the kitchen to put together the quick meal I had purchased. My stepmom had been ignoring my existence, clearly impatient for me to be out of the house, so made no greeting as I passed her.
The weather was warm. It seemed even hotter than usual for the time of year. After I'd eaten, I showered and lay on my bed to relax and read the contents of the envelope.
When I opened it, I realized that it was a letter from my father. My hands were trembling with emotion as I started reading my father's document, hoping that it would convey some of the love which I'd believed he had felt for me.
I gave a sigh of relief when it started with a loving greeting and a sincere wish that he had seen more of me.
He then went on to talk about "Mommy". It was interesting reading:
"Mommy and I agreed that I would make a Will leaving everything to her. However, it was clearly understood that in the event of me predeceasing her, which seemed likely given our respective ages, she would allow you to share the house with her and give you a financial settlement which would fund you through University. I knew Mommy would see that your sister would be OK. The two of them are as thick as thieves and only seem to care about each other.
Your Mommy promised me that you would always be welcome to stay with her and that your financial settlement would be generous. However, I never fully trusted her, nor sadly my daughter.
Towards the end I suspected that Mommy was having affairs with other men. Looking like Christina Hendricks, it was only natural that they would be attracted to her like flies. I tried to keep her sexually satisfied. Over the years I'd found the little kinky things which could turn her on, but in the end she lost interest in me.
I found that I was losing my trust in her and was worried that, when I died, she might decide not to stick with my wishes, especially as she seemed not to care about you at all and was only interested in your sister.
I therefore resolved to protect you and make a later Will leaving everything to you. This Will is lodged at the attorney's address listed at the end of this letter.
If my wife has abided by what we agreed, then I know you will take no action. If, however, as I fear, she has no intention of you living with her or, if her financial settlement to you is less than generous, please activate the later Will immediately. She will want to challenge it, but will have difficulties."
I smiled ruefully. Being given nothing is certainly less than generous.
In the package was another envelope marked, "Addendum - To be opened if you activate the later Will."
