The Heir

She woke up to the radio alarm. The newsreel began, a DJ talking about Cohen, CEO of Cohen Enterprises. She tried to discern the meaning, but it was too early in the morning for it to make sense yet. It sounded bad. They seemed to be looking for someone.

She got up and moved to her computer. Cohen was all over the news. There were pictures of the family gathering at the hospital.  They had not released his condition.

Sibyl emailed her supervisor for personal leave for up to a few days.  She considered family emergency, until she realized she had no family, and everybody knew it. She grabbed her phone and scrolled down through the contacts.  Most of her friends were new; she’d known them between four and seven years. They’d been with her through her marriage and divorce, but she’d never told them about before. She only talked about that with her oldest friends, Ginger and Paris.  Sibyl and Ginger had grown up across the street from each other. Sibyl had met Paris after high school, at orientation for college, although she did not attend college that fall. Ginger had moved a few years back, Sibyl was pretty sure she wasn’t awake yet, so she called Paris.

Paris was home and she invited Sibyl over.

She found Paris’s house without difficulty. Sibyl rang the doorbell.  She stared at Paris when the door opened.  Paris stared back. She barely recognized Paris. She always pictured her as the slightly chubby girl with black hair and glasses that hid her storm-dark gray eyes.  The woman who opened the door still had black hair, but she was slender and had green color contacts.

Sibyl hugged her. “Paris.”

“Sibyl. Come inside,” Paris said.

“What happened to Cohen? They’re not releasing his condition on the news.”  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“I thought you didn’t care about Cohen.”

“I thought I didn’t, either.”

“I don’t know what you want to know. They called me this morning. They called Ginger, too,” Paris said. “Didn’t they call you?”

Sibyl shook her head. “What about?”

“Cohen’s condition isn’t good. They may not have told the press yet, but it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows. They’re looking for somebody.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It is,” Paris said. “They said they need to find Cohen’s heir when they called.”

“His heir.” Sibyl was silent for a moment, trying to digest it. “Doesn’t his family know the heir? Wouldn’t it be Iola? He was always so close to his sister.”

“Apparently not. CE’s been calling everyone to figure out who the heir is. I have an appointment soon. You should come with me. They’ll get to you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with,” Paris said.

Sibyl remembered Paris always shortened Cohen Enterprises to CE after a moment. “They haven’t called me because I changed my name too many times, is that what you’re saying?”

“Don’t get defensive. I didn’t say that, but they did ask if I knew you this morning. It was right after you called. I don’t know if they know your name right now – they asked about Mac.”

“I’d really rather not go.”

“It’s not like Cohen will be there,” Paris said.

“I know that.”

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

“I guess I haven’t seen you in six years? It was just before your wedding, and you were still so thin! It was hard to believe with how much you always used to eat that you were so skinny,” Paris said. “You looked anorexic for so long. I know you weren’t, but you looked it.”

“I gained thirty pounds,” Sibyl said. “It’s only five more than I weighed in high school.”

“That much?” Paris said. “You look healthy now.”

“I was under a lot of stress.”

Paris led Sibyl out the back door to her car. They were quiet during the drive to Cohen Enterprises. Sibyl’s thoughts were about Cohen, back when she knew him. Paris parked in front of Cohen Enterprises’ corporate office in the visitor’s area.

Paris eyed Sibyl as she exited the car.  “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sibyl said.

Lucas Redding met them at the door. He was very smartly dressed and clearly knew Paris on sight. Sibyl remembered him, though he did not recognize her. Sibyl was not surprised, since her position when she worked here was invisible to almost everyone.

He shook their hands and led them to an empty conference room. Sibyl noticed there had been a few changes since Cohen had replaced his father as CEO.

Sibyl took a deep breath. She pushed the memories away. She tried to keep her attention on the present and the meeting.

Lucas had a photograph in his hand and seemed to be comparing them to it. Sibyl shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She wondered how much she resembled her younger self.

“Would you state your full names and relationship to Mr. Cohen?”

“Paris Hanson. Former employee.”

“Sibyl Delaney, uh-” She didn’t know how to answer the second part of the question.

Her failure to answer turned Lucas’s focus on her. “How well did you know Mr. Cohen?”

Sibyl opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out. She tried again, and “I knew him,” was all that escaped.

“How long ago did you know Mr. Cohen?” Lucas stared as Sibyl shifted uncomfortably.

She found it difficult to think of him as Mr. Cohen. “About ten years.”

“I do not have a record of any Sibyl Delaney.”

Sibyl stared at a point in the middle of the conference room table. “No, you wouldn’t, would you?”

Lucas glared at Sibyl, but she ignored him. Paris looked from one to the other. “She wasn’t Sibyl Delaney then.”

“Then who were you?”

“Genevieve James. I went by Ginny.”

“Do you know Mr. Cohen’s full name?”

Sibyl reminded herself he was asking about Cohen, not his father. “Winston Llewelyn Cohen.” Paris stared at her. Sibyl couldn’t read the look on her face. She was committed; she had to answer the questions.

“How did you know Mr. Cohen?”

“We were in an online community called Syta. He got me a position here. I was employed with Cohen Enterprises for a year and a half.” Sibyl thought about Cohen and how she had known him. “We, Cohen and I, were, uh, close.” It didn’t cover it, but she did not have the words to describe it.

“Your screen name on Syta?”

“Marry An Catastrophe. Everyone called me MAC.”

“Mr. Cohen’s screen name?”

“Desist.”

Lucas nodded. He exchanged a glance with Paris that Sibyl couldn’t decipher. She wondered when she lost the ability to understand the nuances in a look between people.

“Mrs. Delaney, –”

“Ms. Delaney.”

“My apologies. Mr. Cohen made you his heir.”

Sibyl felt her jaw drop. She did not expect this. What was Cohen thinking when he did that? “Me?”

Lucas nodded. He set the photograph he had been studying in front of her. It was of Paris, Ginger, Sibyl and Cohen from Sibyl’s nineteenth birthday. Cohen was wearing a suit; he’d just come from the office. All four of them were smiling.

Sibyl forced herself to breathe and focused on Lucas instead of the picture. “Can you explain? How am I his heir?”

“Mr. Cohen is in the ICU at Memorial Medical Center. As his heir, you have complete control over everything during his incapacitation – including Cohen Enterprises and his medical care.”

“How am I his heir?” Sibyl was speaking as much to herself as Lucas.

“His intentions are clear,” Lucas said.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Sibyl enunciated each word. “I left nine years ago. I have not spoken to Cohen since.” Since the hearing nine years ago.

“I can guarantee that Mr. Cohen has updated his will each year and he chose you,” Lucas said.

“What about the restraining order?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“The order can be amended under these circumstances. I have already spoken to a judge. We have an appointment after lunch.”

“But I don’t want this,” Sibyl said. “I don’t want anything of Cohen’s.”

“That is your right, Ms. Delaney, but who will you choose to take over instead?” Lucas looked her in the eye. “He left you this letter, perhaps it will change your mind.”

The letter was addressed to Mac. “This is old; I haven’t been Mac for nine years.”

Lucas placed the letter in front of her. “I know he added to that envelope every year, including this year.”

Sibyl didn’t open the envelope. She waited.

“He mentioned you’d changed your name, but Mr. Cohen did not tell me your new name. I think he knew what it was.”

Sibyl watched him, but said nothing.

“I don’t know anything more, Ms. Delaney,” Lucas said.

Sibyl sighed. There were too many thoughts running through her head and most of them were about Cohen. She took the envelope, debating whether to read it later. “I will do what is necessary,” she said. She suddenly remembered the promise she’d made to Cohen; it felt like a lifetime ago.

Sibyl looked over to Paris for answers, but she did not find any. When Sibyl had left nine years ago, she stopped talking about Cohen and her friends had respected that decision.

“We need to prepare for the judge.”

Paris stood. “Sibyl, let me know if you need anything.” Sibyl envied her graceful exit.

Sibyl was left alone with Lucas. He escorted her first to the judge and then to the hospital. He guided her through the maze to Cohen. It was very clear that Cohen Enterprises could and would keep going without her guidance in the short term, but Cohen’s personal affairs had all fallen into her lap. She was silent, but Lucas began to add details to the situation.

“The doctors will update you on his condition. The family members allowed to see him are his sister, mother and girlfriend. You will be added to the list, of course. Have you had any contact with them?”

“Not recently. I knew Iola. I met Vera twice.”

Sibyl wondered if Lucas knew why she was in charge instead of his sister, Iola. Those two had been close when she’d known them, but it could have been any number of reasons. Cohen’s affection could be fickle. She almost asked, but she was sure he would refer back to the letter she had not yet read.

The doctor who met them near the ICU was grim. She explained it with large medical terms that did not register in Sibyl’s head.

“Is he going to live?”

“Doubtful.”

Sibyl nodded now. “And my choices are?”

The doctor sighed. Sibyl didn’t like her bedside manner. “He’s in a coma. There isn’t much of anything to do.”

Sibyl didn’t hesitate. She turned to leave.

“Aren’t you going to pay your respects to him?”

“Why?”

The doctor didn’t have an answer.          

“He just made you the wealthiest woman in the city,” Lucas said.

“If I keep it. If I accept it. If.” Sibyl walked down the hall. Lucas followed her.

As they exited the hospital, they saw the family. Sibyl ducked into the gift shop, hoping they would not see her. She’d been slightly behind Lucas leaving the elevator, and he missed her disappearance. She watched them exchange pleasantries; saw Lucas’s confusion at her absence. She saw the girlfriend, and wondered again if every girlfriend of Cohen’s was just another replacement of the girl he thought Sibyl was.

She would have gotten away with it, if Iola had not seen her.. “Mac?! Mac!” She watched Lucas whispering in Iola’s ear. “Sibyl?” Iola’s face showed confusion as she said the name aloud, half to herself.

She knew she was caught so she edged out of the shop and met them. The three women standing with Lucas intimidated her. Iola Cohen, Cohen’s twin sister, smiled at her. She looked the same; her hair was swept up in a French knot, her designer pantsuit was dark purple, and her only accessories were rhinestone glasses and pinkie ring Cohen had given her years ago. She offered her hand to Sibyl.

Sibyl shook it. “Iola.”

“It’s been too long,” Iola said.

Vera Cohen, Cohen’s mother, dressed more casually in a flowery dress with her short hair styled to flatter her face. “I remember you a little,” Vera said.

She met Cohen’s mother’s gaze. “Vera.”

Sibyl assessed the third woman. She appeared to be about ten years younger than Sibyl. Her pale blonde hair looked bleached, her skirt didn’t reach mid-thigh and she teetered a little on her spike heels.

Lucas supplied the introduction. “Ms. Delaney, this is Princess Thomas. Ms. Thomas, Sibyl Delaney.”

Sibyl nodded at Princess, who smiled back.

“So, Lucas, is M-Sibyl the heir?” Iola stumbled over the correct name. Sibyl smiled at her, appreciating the effort.

Vera and Princess frowned. “Surely not,” Vera said.

Lucas looked uncomfortable. “Yes.”

“No. It’s not her,” Vera said.

“Mother,” Iola said.

“It isn’t. He wouldn’t leave it to her. My Winston was better than that.”

“He hated that name, Mother,” Iola said.

“Who are you, anyway? Why would Cohen leave anything to you?” Princess said.

“Stay out of it, Princess,” Iola said.

“I don’t know why.”

“You didn’t read the letters? He said everything would be clear if you read the letters,” Iola said. “He showed me the first one, when he changed his will to include you.”

“I thought it would be you,” Sibyl said.

“Read them. If you have any questions, call me. Don’t let these two bother you,” Iola said, handing Sibyl her card. She pulled her mother away, leaving Princess to follow as they entered the elevator.

Sibyl sighed. She had the letter in her purse. She was not sure she was ready to read it. How long until she had to face the press? They would have the history soon enough, she was certain, through public records or eyewitnesses. The stroke had been a shock, keeping them busy. The missing heir was another matter. Once the heir was no longer missing, they would have the time to dig up all the information Sibyl had tried to bury. She followed Lucas outside the hospital into the car. He dropped her off at her door.

Sibyl stepped out of the car and walked into her house. She closed and locked the door, at the moment not caring her car was still at Paris’s. She intended to sleep, but memories haunted her.

She woke the next morning to her alarm, which she’d forgotten to shut off. She attempted to doze a few more minutes, but the doorbell rang. She made her way to the door, wrapping a robe over her pajamas.

“Hi, Paris,” Sibyl said as she opened the door.

“Hi. I brought back your car. How’s everything?”

“Hrm. I forgot you were such a cheerful morning person. Come in, I’ll start coffee.”

Paris laughed. “I’ll make the coffee. You get dressed.”

Sibyl emerged from her room several minutes later, following the smell of brewing coffee. She took a sip from the cup she was offered and could immediately feel the effects of the caffeine.  She wondered how coffee could taste so different with the same ingredients, because she never made it this good. Paris patiently waited for Sibyl to fully wake.

“So what brings you here this morning, Paris?”

“I want to know what happened yesterday and if you need anything,” Paris said.

“I don’t know what I need. I ran into the family yesterday. The doctors, the lawyers, I can handle them. I know what to do, it’s the same as when my father died,” Sibyl said.

“Only Cohen’s still alive.”

“Right,” Sibyl said.

“How do you feel?” Paris said.

“Tired.”

“Besides that?”

“I don’t know,” Sibyl said. “I don’t know what to feel at all. I thought – I thought that – that I was done with this.”

“Done with what?”

“What are you, my therapist?”

“I’m trying to help,” Paris said.

“I know.” Sibyl paused before continuing, gathering her thoughts. “I buried my mother. My father couldn’t handle it, and he went downhill so fast afterward. Then I buried him, too. I thought I was done with these duties, the next-of-kin business. After the divorce, I don’t have any family. I wasn’t prepared.”

Paris nodded.

“It seems like I should feel more. I’m sorry he had a stroke, but I’m not devastated or anything.”

Paris waited.

“His family doesn’t seem that broken up, either,” Sibyl said.

“Not even Iola?”

“She was always hard to read. I’d bet more that she was trying to hold it all in until later. Vera seemed cold and that girlfriend was odd. More like it was an insult that I was there than a disaster had happened.”

“Which girlfriend?” Paris said.

“Princess?”

“Still? Wow. I think she’s in month three. Cohen usually doesn’t keep them around that long.”

“He did seem to go for looks over other things,” Sibyl said.

“I didn’t think she was that pretty,” Paris said.

“I thought she looked young,” Sibyl said.

“She is. I think she’s only a year or so older than you were, you know.”

“Unbelievable,” Sibyl said.

“I don’t know Vera’s deal, though,” Paris said.

“I think she just doesn’t like me. She didn’t before.”

“Vera liked you,” Paris said.

“No. Cohen’s father liked me. Vera was another story. I think she was happy when I left.”

“That’s absurd.”

“It isn’t, but it doesn’t matter. She can’t overturn Cohen’s wishes.” Sibyl said. “How do you keep up on all this stuff anyway? You don’t work at CE anymore.”

Sibyl’s cell phone rang, startling them.

Writing Meeting Start Here

“This is Dr. Williams, we spoke yesterday. Mr. Cohen’s family has returned. Would you care to spend time with them?”

“No. Thanks.”

“Mr. Cohen is not likely to recover from this stroke. You should visit him while you have the chance.”

“Thank you for your concern, Doctor. I do not wish to visit,” Sibyl said.

“But-”

“Good-bye.” Sibyl hung up. “Paris, I probably have to go to CE today. Lucas said there were things I needed to know before figuring out what to do with Cohen’s estate.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Yes. I could use the support. I feel strange when I’m there.”

“What needs to be done with the estate? Isn’t Cohen still alive?” Paris said.

“Arrangements need to be made. He’s probably not going to recover. I need to get things together for either possibility.”

“Are you going to take over the company?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m still thinking this is some sort of joke, that someone else will be doing this soon. Iola, for example, is his sister and they were always very close. Why me and not her?” Sibyl said.

“Did you read the letter? Maybe that would help,” Paris said.

“No. Iola said it would, but I don’t know if I can handle what’s in there.”

“What is there to be afraid of?”

“Everything,” Sibyl said, gesturing vaguely.

“Sibyl. You should read the letter. Where is it?”

“In my purse.”

Paris brought Sibyl’s purse to the table and started digging for the letter. She placed it on the table between them. “Do you want to do it, or shall I?”

Sibyl stared at the envelope. The word MAC was written in Cohen’s careless style. She made no move for it, and Paris left her alone for a moment.

Sibyl picked up her phone when it rang again. “Ms. Delaney, this is Lucas Redding. I have you set up at ten to meet here about Cohen’s affairs. The press conference to announce you as heir is at three; we’ll prep beforehand. Don’t worry.”

He hung up without another word. Sibyl stared at the phone when it rang again. “Ms. Delaney? Dr. Williams, calling about Mr. Cohen. I’m sorry, but he passed away a few moments ago.”

“Thank you for calling,” Sibyl tried to say it like she meant it.

“Good-bye.” Dr. Williams hung up on her, too.

The phone clicked too many times. “Hello?”

“It’s Iola. You’ve heard?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’ll do well as CEO. Please let me know if I can help you in any way.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of hanging up, Sibyl accidentally hit call waiting. She heard incoherent screaming on the other end of the line. She pulled the phone away from her ear and checked the number. It was local, but she didn’t know it.

Sibyl dropped the phone somewhere in the middle of the screaming. Paris picked it up, identified it as Princess, and hung up. The phone continued ringing, so she made notes to allow Sibyl to point at the option she wanted. If it wasn’t critical, Paris put it off and marked it on a list for future reference. Princess called back three times, and was disconnected immediately. The girl was hysterical and Sibyl liked the way Paris refused to deal with her. Paris pushed Lucas to give Sibyl a credit card for a few necessities.

When the phone finally stopped ringing, Sibyl looked up.

“Enough. I turned it off. They can do without you for an hour. The letter?”

The envelope sat between them on the table. Sibyl felt a little threatened by it. Paris picked it up and pulled a thick stack of paper out of the envelope.

“What’s the key to?” Paris said.

“Key?”

Paris showed the key in the bottom of the envelope.  Sibyl hadn’t even noticed it.

“Looks like it’s to a safe deposit box.”

“Then we better find out where that is.”

“Let’s find out later, it’s not going to change in the next ten minutes and I don’t want to turn my phone on yet.”

“I thought we’d just use mine.”

Sibyl sighed. She couldn’t think that far ahead anymore. Of course Paris had her own phone.

Soon Paris had an address and a number to the box. She grabbed Sibyl and the key and drove them over there.

Sibyl still didn’t want to be here. Nothing would change her mind about Cohen. She knew she was about to be in the news in a big way, but didn’t know how to stop it.  She couldn’t stay inside forever.

Paris dragged her into the bank, produced a manager out of thin air, and proceeded to march both of them into the vault. Sibyl let her manage it; she’d stopped processing after Cohen died.

It was the largest safe deposit box available, the manager explained as he opened it for them and left.

Sibyl felt tears in her eyes as Paris opened the lid. Paris gently placed each item on the table, one by one, until it was covered with the contents of the box.

The photos came first. Most of them featured Sibyl, but some had friends like Paris or Ginger or Cohen. It had been a hobby for her in those days, to take pictures of everyone around her and to have pictures taken with her friends. Paris pulled out a book Sibyl had never finished, a key chain with two keys on it, and a pink teddy bear. There was a shoebox filled with a sweater and a paper-mache mask. Sibyl watched as Paris placed her then-favorite jeans, strappy sandals, and a few other clothing items. One more box containing the pieces of a vase. At the very bottom in a large lumpy envelope, Paris laid out an ultrasound picture, more letters, and a ring box.

“Didn’t leave much behind,” Sibyl said. She felt the tears falling. “Didn’t take much with me, either.”

Paris started to open the ring box. “Don’t,” Sibyl said. “I don’t want to see it.” Paris replaced it on the table, unopened.

“Is it your engagement ring?” Paris said.

“I never saw it. Soon as he took the box out of his coat pocket I said no.” Sibyl didn’t touch anything. She didn’t think of this stuff as hers anymore.

“Did you ever tell Ginger about the baby?”

“There was no baby.”

“You were pregnant.”

“I miscarried.”

“I remember what they said.”

They were silent. They both remembered her ‘fall’ down the stairs.

“What will you do with Cohen Enterprises?”

“Set it up with a new CEO and get out.”
         
“You wouldn’t run it yourself?”

“What, and use my business degree?”

Paris shook her head. “I’m serious. You’d do better than Cohen did. Half the time he was supposed to be working he had some girl in his office and you don’t want to know what they were doing.”

“I was one of them.”

“I forgot. I wasn’t at CE then.”

“I know. You were enjoying college life. How’d I miss out on that?”

“You made it later.”

“True.”

Paris watched her. She knew Paris was waiting for the answer to her earlier question.

“I think it would be weird, being at Cohen, without Cohen. Being the one in the penthouse office, remembering the times it was with Cohen. Some of those people remember when I was the girl with blue hair and fifteen piercings in my ears.” She gestured vaguely at the photographs. “I don’t know how much I can command the respect of people who knew me when I was so messed up. Cohen only made it worse for me; he was hardly a pillar of support. I know parts of Cohen Enterprises from being with Cohen, and some of those things I don’t think should be allowed.”

“So change it.” Paris took a deep breath before continuing. “Because I watched you. You left and you changed and you made your life worth something and you did it because you wanted and needed to do it. Ginger moved in with Cohen, and you left Ginger behind, too, because you couldn’t be with her when that was going on. When she left him, you returned to your friendship. You didn’t do any of that because it was easy. I’ve seen you be strong and you’re amazing.”

Sibyl was silent. Amazing?

“I think you should take Cohen’s estate. I think you should lead Cohen Enterprises. I think you could turn that place around and make it great.”

Sibyl met Paris’s eyes, finding strength. The silence lengthened as she thought about it. “I could do that. I could also give it to Iola. She would do well to follow in her father’s footsteps. He was a good man.”

“Unlike Cohen?”

“Well, I will say he wasn’t good for me. Or most of the girls he dated.”

“Sibyl. Are you not reading the letter because you’re afraid it will sway you?”

“Paris, why do you always have to be so annoyingly perceptive?”

Paris handed Sibyl the letter. Sibyl took it reluctantly and opened it. She noticed the date on the top page was recent; he must have written it when he last updated his will.

Dearest Bright Eyes,

If you’re reading this, something has happened to me. I made you my heir when we were still dating. I had the idea we’d marry and have children. I can’t describe how happy I was when you got pregnant. I know it was an accident. I know the fights we had were intense, and I have many regrets. The worst night of my life was when you fell down the stairs. I saved the fragments of the vase you threw at me. For five years I kept them on my desk, until Iola finally made me store them in the safe deposit box with the rest of your things. The fragments reminded me of that night. We were both out of control. You were right - my mother was trying to get rid of you. I believed her about many things, and when you were gone, I realized she was completely wrong about you. By that time you had a restraining order and I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t blame you; I would’ve done the same thing.

When I met you, you dazzled me. I couldn’t believe you were with me. You were the only one who ever took an interest in what went on around Cohen Enterprises. Some of your ideas got implemented and they made my employees happier and they made the business run smoother. That was when I realized who I wanted to succeed me to run Cohen Enterprises.

You probably thought I’d give it to Iola, but I spoke to her about this, and she agreed to give it to you. With her share and mine, you have the controlling vote on the board. My mother can’t do anything to oppose you. I want you to take it over and make it the way you spoke of, all those years ago.

Please make the company into something better. That is the legacy of my family and I am leaving it to the only person I trust. I wish for reconciliation with you while I am alive, but if that isn’t possible, take my company that I poured my life into and make it soar.

Love,
“Stone” Cohen

“‘Stone’?” Paris said. She scanned through the preceding pages, seeing how the letter had become more concise over the years, less about what went wrong and more wishing Sibyl well after Cohen was gone.

Sibyl shrugged. “Nickname. I said his head was made of stone because it was so thick. It stuck.”

“So, new CEO of Cohen Enterprises?”

Sibyl slowly nodded, chewing her lip.

“You’re already making plans, aren’t you?”

Sibyl smiled. “Yes, I’m already making plans.”