Page 30 of Willowbrooke
Leo gave a humorless laugh, having been caught. “I was a bit bored with my work—I had a string of asshole startup CEOs, and was kind of over it at the time. And there was other stuff—a bad break up… I just needed an out.”
I wanted to ask him more about the break up and “other stuff” but decided not to push my luck since he had already been so open about everything else. “Were you worried about what kind of reception you’d get?” I asked instead.
Leo shrugged. “I mean, Dad immediately accused me of only coming back to be reinstated in the will.”
“And what did you say to that?” I laughed.
“I told him I wasn’t expecting him to do anything of the sort, but that I wanted to try to get to know him if he really was short on time. I had my own money; I didn’t need his. That shut him up real quick—I don’t think he wasanticipating it. Rendering him speechless for once was a nice surprise.”
Leo seemed to recall the memory fondly, but it hurt my heart to think that his own father assumed Leo had only ever been interested in his money. But then again, money can easily corrupt people. Perhaps George West was just shrewd after a lifetime of feeling taken advantage of? Or maybe he was an asshole. He could have been both.
“Once he realized I planned on sticking around for a while, he opened up a little bit. Enough for me to realize it was probably a good thing that I had kept my distance, but I’d wanted to know him my whole life, and our time was limited, so I focused on making sure that he left this world with dignity. I thought I’d done that, but now I’m not so sure.” Leo gently dropped the scored tomatoes into the boiling water.
“What kind of cancer was it?”
“Pancreatic—absolutely cruel, and there’s barely any chance of survival. From the moment he was diagnosed, he knew…” Leo rinsed the plastic bowl and filled it half full with ice, then more water, before grabbing a second bowl from a lower cabinet.
“So you were here, helping him—”
“I mostly kept him company; he was pretty weak from the chemo, before he stopped treatment, and was just bored.”
“Was Margot here a lot?” I assumed she would have been, given how hard she’d told me she’d fought to get Leo backhome…although Leo’s account didn’t sound like it had taken much convincing. But every story has two sides, and the truth usually lies somewhere in the middle.
“She had a hard time seeing Dad like that. I think he’d always been her protector growing up, and she couldn’t deal with all of it. And she’d only gotten divorced a couple years prior and was still rebuilding from that—it really shook her. Despite how much she fought with Uncle Ted, I don’t think she ever thought he’d actually trade her in for a younger model, but she was wrong,” Leo admitted.
“Who else was around at the time?” I was trying to piece together who would have had access to George West, and motive enough to smother him.
“Val and Carl have worked for the family for decades—Val was here every day back then; after Dad died, she asked if she could reduce her hours to one day a week because she wanted to take care of her grandkids. And Uncle William would be here more often than not—Dad insisted on staying up to date with all his business ventures and hated being on calls nonstop, so he preferred getting debriefed in person by William.”
“Were you the only person taking care of your dad?” I couldn’t picture Leo doing all the hard stuff that came with end-of-life care.
“We had two nurses. Julie was the main nurse, and Becky worked weekends and was backup for Julie if she was out. They were technically on call 24/7, but they’d go home atnight, and I’d call them to come back if something came up that was beyond my capabilities. I only had to call them a couple times though—Dad’s meds left him so tired, he slept through a lot of the day and night.”
“What were they like with him?” I wanted to get a better sense of the relationship George had with his caregivers.
“Becky was timid but tough—she didn’t say much, just did her work and went home. Julie was here much more often, and she had an antagonistic but playful rapport with Dad. He didn’t like that he had to rely on her so much, and she didn’t like that he made things difficult. But I think they both felt bad for each other in a weird way…they could commiserate.” Leo used a slotted spoon to pull the tomatoes out of the boiling water and submerge them in the ice bath he’d created.
“What do you remember about the last day?” I asked softly.
Leo blew out a large breath. “It was such a blur…” He struggled to wade through specific memories while he began to peel the skin from the tomatoes.
“The morning was typical. I brought Dad coffee and helped him with his crossword puzzle. Uncle William arrived mid-morning, and I left them alone to go over their business stuff—they never asked me to leave, but I felt awkward staying. It was nice outside that day, so I ate lunch on the patio and read for a while—until Julie came out and said that she’d found Dad and that he was unresponsive.” Leo paused,leaning the edge of his palms against the counter, trying not to get the tomato juice everywhere.
“It’s okay, take your time,” I encouraged him when he didn’t continue for a moment.
“He had a DNR order in place—so once he was gone—he was gone,” Leo said, staring at the counter. “I was just kind of in shock. I didn’t really get to say goodbye—not like a proper goodbye. Julie took care of everything. She declared the death and arranged for transportation of his body. She was technically a hospice nurse, so she knew what to do, I guess. Someone called William and Margot—probably Julie—and they took over the funeral planning. I was like a zombie for days. I didn’t cry. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t feel…anything.”
“Is that when the insomnia started?” I wondered aloud.
“No, it started as soon as I got back here. I didn’t realize how much suppressed trauma I had from growing up in this house, and I think I was worried something would happen to him at night. The anxiety just kept me up, and then after he was gone…I don’t know…maybe it’s just habit at this point. Sometimes I still think I can hear his heart monitor at night.” Leo looked up at me, his face pale. “You probably think I’m crazy.”
“No—you’re still grieving—there’s no right way to do it.” I reached across the counter and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back before releasing me to return to his cooking prep.
“You want to know the funniest part…?” Leo’s sarcasm was evident.
I waited for him to continue.
“He’d never disinherited me.” Leo laughed to himself. “His lawyer said the last time he’d changed his will was when my mom died. He left it all to me, with the stipulation that I’d make sure Margot was taken care of, and William became majority partner in all of their shared businesses, going from 49% stakeholder to 51%. That’s it.”
