Adopted Parents. Candy Halliday
She sighed and looked away.
The reflection in the glass walls of the boardroom made Hallie gasp. The woman staring back at her looked horrible. There were ugly dark circles under her eyes. Her short black hair looked lifeless. And the tailored dress that had once fit now hung on her like a sack.
Hallie reached up and pinched her cheeks, trying to bring a little color back into her face. It didn’t help. Running her fingers through her hair didn’t improve her looks, either. The spiked effect only made her look even more like some homeless stray who had wandered in off the streets wearing someone else’s clothes.
Even sadder, that was how Hallie felt.
Janet and David’s home had been her go-to place, where she’d always celebrated her birthday, and the holidays, or any other special occasion. There she’d gone if she needed comfort, or advice, or just to unwind and get out of Boston for the weekend. Where she’d never needed an invitation and where she’d always felt welcome. And now what had made that house her soft place to land was gone.
So of course she felt homeless. Her life would never be the same again.
She glanced at Nate, still standing at the window with the same fatigued look on his face that Hallie had seen on hers only a few seconds ago. How tragic, she thought, the games people play.
They were both devastated, both hurting, yet they couldn’t even comfort each other thanks to something stupid that had happened ten years ago. Hallie was tempted to get up, walk over to Nate, and tell him he could cry on her shoulder the way she so desperately needed to cry on his.
Maybe then the screaming in her head would stop.
She wouldn’t, of course, walk over and tell Nate anything. Hallie hadn’t even thanked him yet for taking charge once he’d arrived home from his current assignment in Afghanistan.
Nate had taken care of everything she couldn’t.
He’d made funeral arrangements she was in no shape to make. He’d handled the endless details the crisis had created. He’d spoken with well-wishing family members and friends Hallie couldn’t bring herself to face.
Nate had given her time to pull herself together—something she was pretty sure she hadn’t yet accomplished.
And the hardest part was knowing she’d survive.
Somehow, she’d have to learn to live with the loss. Someway, she’d have to find the strength to move on. And someday, maybe the pain inside her chest wouldn’t hurt so much it took her breath away.
“Sorry I’ve kept you waiting,” Greg Holder said as he hurried into the boardroom.
He paused by Hallie’s chair long enough to give her shoulder a supportive squeeze. Next, he shook hands with Nate, who had approached the table when Greg entered.
Greg was a handsome guy, in his late thirties and blond. He was dressed the way a successful attorney should dress: designer suit, tasteful tie, expensive loafers. He’d been David’s college roommate and best friend. He was also the executor of David’s and Janet’s wills.
Knowing Greg personally was a comfort to Hallie. It took some of the sting out of the unpleasantness that had brought them here this morning.
“I know this is hard for both of you,” Greg said as he took a seat across the table from them and placed a large folder in front of him. “And the last thing I ever wanted to do was act as executor of my best friend’s will. But the sooner we settle David and Janet’s affairs and set the wheels in motion to find new parents for Ahn, the better it will be for everyone.”
Hallie gave Greg a brave nod.
Nate said, “I agree.”
Greg opened the folder, then looked at both of them. “The wills are identical, as is the case with most husbands and wives. And I want to go over the will provisions first because this is always the hardest part for the family.”
He paused, sympathy for both of them evident on his face. “No one ever wants to benefit financially from a loved one’s death. But I hope you will accept David’s and Janet’s final wishes in the spirit in which they were given. Out of their love and their concern for your well-being and your future.”
Hallie swallowed past the lump in her throat.
But she didn’t cry.
She didn’t have any tears left.
“You are the two main beneficiaries, and everything is to be divided equally between the two of you,” Greg said. “There are three exceptions. A trust fund for Ahn’s college education that the firm will manage until Ahn reaches legal age. A trust fund the firm will also manage to pay for your mother’s care at the nursing facility, Nate. And a monetary gift to Hallie and Janet’s stepmother. I’ll discuss the details with Roberta later.”
Roberta was taking care of Ahn this morning so Nate and Hallie could have this meeting.
Greg pushed a sheet of paper across the table.
“This is an itemized list of the assets.”
Hallie only half listened as Greg rambled on about Janet and David’s house in Winchester on Wedge Pond. About their personal property. About their investment and retirement accounts and their life insurance. About the proceeds Janet had received when she’d sold her accounting firm so she could be a stay-at-home mom. About David’s equity in the law practice.
She looked at the paper when Greg’s finger finally reached the bottom of the sheet. “This is the total amount of all assets,” he said, “with the exception of the insurance settlement from the accident. Beside your name is the amount that represents your half of the inheritance after necessary taxes.”
Hallie stared at the figure beside her name. The 2.5-million-dollar amount was staggering.
She’d never given a thought to Janet and David’s net worth before. She’d known they were successful. But their finances hadn’t been any of her business.
“It’s in your best interest if we don’t settle with the other driver’s insurance company until after the readoption,” Greg said. “If we can’t find adoptive parents and one of you ends up raising Ahn, the settlement needs to reflect the expenses you’ll incur in taking care of her until she’s out of college and on her own.”
Hallie panicked. She couldn’t even consider the idea of raising Ahn. “But readoption is what Janet and David wanted. They were adamant about that. They wanted Ahn raised by two parents who could give her the same stability they were giving her. It states that plainly in the guardianship agreement.”
“And I’ll do everything possible to make the readoption happen,” Greg said. “But Ahn’s age and her delayed speech and physical development could be an issue. Most couples want an infant instead of a toddler. And frankly, any type of disability makes a child less adoptable.”
Hallie was reeling over this reality. She and Nate weren’t parent material and Janet and David had known that. In fact, she and Nate were as far from parent material as any two people could be.
Nate’s life was devoted to the dangerous assignments he accepted wherever trouble was brewing in the world. And she had focused on her career. Her position as an executive television producer required one hundred percent of her time.
If either of them had a spouse, Janet and David might have felt differently about their prospects for raising Ahn. But Hallie couldn’t even boast a significant other at the moment. And unless Nate had someone hidden in the background, he had no one special in his life, either.
They were both married to their careers.
Definitely not parent material.
But Hallie had been sister material. And she was aunt material. And since they were now talking about the readoption, Hallie decided to bring up something that had been bothering her. “What if I want to maintain contact