The Descendants Read Online Free Page B

haven’t yet told you about child nightmares. Is common thing. We go over it next week.”
    I really like Esther and don’t want her to go. It’s just that the idea of her, a Mexican nanny, doesn’t sit right with me. I never thought Scottie needed a nanny, since Joanie didn’t really work, and I don’t like spending the money on someone to care for my kid. It also makes me feel like some kind of colonist to have Esther around. Especially now that I have stepped in and she’s doing mainly housecleaning and cooking. Ever since we’ve been spending more time with each other, she has acquired quick retorts and smooth comic timing, so now she’s the sassy Mexican maid, sitcom-ish and wise. But I need to think about what’s best for my family instead of how others perceive my family, something I’ve been guilty of all my life, trying to prove I’m great and not just a descendant of somebody great.
    I have inheritance issues. I belong to one of those Hawaii families who make money off of luck and dead people. My great-grandmother happened to be a princess. A small monarchy decided what land was theirs, and she came in to a lot of it. My great-grandfather, a haole businessman, was doing pretty well himself. He was a good land speculator, good banker. All of their descendants, as well as Hawaii’s missionary descendants, sugar plantation descendants and so on, are still benefiting from these old transactions. We sit back and watch as the past unfurls millions into our laps. My grandfather, my father, and I rarely touch the money we’ve made off the trust. I’ve never liked the fact that how much I have is public knowledge. I’m an attorney, and I use only the money I earn from being an attorney, not what I have inherited. My father always said it was the right thing to do, and in the end I’ll have more to pass down. Anyway, I don’t like legacies. I think everyone should start from scratch.
    I think of Joy, her knowing smile. I should probably pick up today’s paper, but I suspect she was reading about the beneficiaries, how much we own, and guesses about the decision we have to make this week, or the decision I will make, since my vote counts the most. I get about ? of the trust, whereas the others get. I’m sure they’re just thrilled about that.
    “All right,” I say to Esther. “You can hold out on the nightmares, but keep the rest coming.” I figure I’ll work a little on my daughter now while we make lunch, and then I’ll get to the King portfolio this afternoon. I’ll pick a buyer and be done with it.
    “She like handbags and low-rider Seventween jeans.”
    She dishes the rice, beans, and chicken onto a steamed tortilla. I arrange the vegetables onto a plate next to a turkey sandwich. I surround the plate with three dipping bowls filled with three different sauces: ranch, mango salsa, and almond butter. Esther eyes the almond butter as though it’s a point against her.
    “And?” I ask.
    “And…I don’t know. So much more you need to know. She like lots of things, but you need to know what she doesn’t like, too. It will take months to explain. Even when your wife come back, she doesn’t know a lot.”
    We hear Scottie coming down the hall, and Esther lowers her voice. “She loves for me to read Mother Goose. ”
    “Her baby book?”
    “Yes. It brings her so much joy. Sometimes I read the same rhyme over and over again. It makes her so happy. It makes her laugh loud with delight.”
    I wonder if Scottie’s regressing into an infant stage, if she likes the nursery rhymes because they take her back to a happier and more innocent time.
    “She should be reading young-adult novels,” I whisper.
    “She read whatever she wants,” Esther whispers back.
    “No. I think she needs books with moral messages and lessons on how to deal with womanhood, not books about single women who can’t stop having kids and who live chaotic lives in a lace-up boot.”
    We both see Scottie, and we stop