Stephanie McMahon woke up slowly, as she always did. She stretched her
arms above her head and rolled her neck around to get comfortable. She
smiled when she smell coffee brewing, pleased that she had remembered to
set the timer the night before.
She reached over to the chair near her full-sized bed and grabbed her robe. She pulled the robe on as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She got to her feet and padded barefoot out of her room and down to the kitchen.
She grabbed her favorite mug from the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was black, the way she liked it. She walked over to the window and looked out at the waves crashing into the cliffs across the harbor from her lighthouse. Her home.
"Looks like a storm is coming in," she said to herself softly. She turned away from the window and climbed back upstairs, past the level her bedroom was on, to her office. She turned on her stereo and soft jazz started playing in the background. Stephanie gathered the pages she had finished the night before and began to proofread them.
Something about Evan didn't seem right. She could picture him so vividly in her mind. He had blond hair that was in desperate need of a trim, mesmerizing blue eyes, and a cocky grin. That was easy enough to describe. But there was something about him that she couldn't seem to capture with words.
Of course, she was never completely satisfied with any of her heroes and the copies of her books still flew off the shelf upon arrival. She shook her head, reconciling herself to the fact that she would probably never be able to describe him to her liking and concentrated on making corrections in her manuscript.
Before long, dozens of the pages had been marked rather liberally with corrections. Stephanie leaned back, giving her neck and eyes a break. She jumped in surprise as the phone rang. She rarely got phone calls, mostly because only three people knew her phone number and only two ever called. Even her publisher only had her fax number and e-mail address.
"Who could that be?" Stephanie asked. Vince had talked with her two days earlier and Shane only called at night. She shrugged as she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Steph," Shane said, his voice ragged.
"Hey Shaners," Stephanie replied, leaning back in her chair, expecting a chat with her brother. "What's up?"
"Something bad has happened," Shane said.
"What?" Stephanie asked, smiling to herself. "Is Dad embroiled in another lawsuit?"
"No Stephanie, I'm serious," Shane said.
"Okay," Stephanie said nodding. "What is it?"
"Dad died this morning," Shane said.
The phone slipped out of Stephanie's hand and crashed to the floor. Stephanie sat in her chair, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Stephanie!" Shane shouted over the receiver.
Stephanie looked down at the phone on the ground and slowly bent over to pick it up. "I'm here."
"You okay?" Shane asked. "I didn't want to tell you over the phone, but I didn't want you to find out from someone else."
"What happened?" Stephanie asked, tears pricking her eyes.
"He had a heart attack," Shane said.
"But he was so healthy," Stephanie said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "He worked out all the time and he ate healthy foods."
"I know Stephanie," Shane said. "It doesn't make sense to me either."
"Oh my God Shane," Stephanie said, a sob escaping. "He can't be dead!"
"I'm sorry sweetie," Shane said. "Look, I'm catching a flight up to Portland so I can meet you and we'll fly down to North Carolina together."
"North Carolina?" Stephanie asked in confusion.
"He wanted to be buried in North Carolina," Shane replied.
"Okay," Stephanie said.
"Are you going to be able to get to the airport okay?" Shane asked.
"I hope so," Stephanie said.
"I'll see you then," Shane said. "I love you sis."
"I love you too," Stephanie said, hanging up the phone.
Stephanie hung up the phone and buried her head in her arms on the desk. Her body shook with sobs as she cried for her father. After several moments, she sat up and went downstairs to get ready to leave her home.
*
Stephanie looked around the ground level of the lighthouse before she grabbed her keys and turned to leave. Moments after she left, the phone rang again.
"Hey, it's Steph. Leave a message."
"Steph, it's me. I just heard. I'm really sorry. I know you love him. Call me."
She reached over to the chair near her full-sized bed and grabbed her robe. She pulled the robe on as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She got to her feet and padded barefoot out of her room and down to the kitchen.
She grabbed her favorite mug from the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was black, the way she liked it. She walked over to the window and looked out at the waves crashing into the cliffs across the harbor from her lighthouse. Her home.
"Looks like a storm is coming in," she said to herself softly. She turned away from the window and climbed back upstairs, past the level her bedroom was on, to her office. She turned on her stereo and soft jazz started playing in the background. Stephanie gathered the pages she had finished the night before and began to proofread them.
Something about Evan didn't seem right. She could picture him so vividly in her mind. He had blond hair that was in desperate need of a trim, mesmerizing blue eyes, and a cocky grin. That was easy enough to describe. But there was something about him that she couldn't seem to capture with words.
Of course, she was never completely satisfied with any of her heroes and the copies of her books still flew off the shelf upon arrival. She shook her head, reconciling herself to the fact that she would probably never be able to describe him to her liking and concentrated on making corrections in her manuscript.
Before long, dozens of the pages had been marked rather liberally with corrections. Stephanie leaned back, giving her neck and eyes a break. She jumped in surprise as the phone rang. She rarely got phone calls, mostly because only three people knew her phone number and only two ever called. Even her publisher only had her fax number and e-mail address.
"Who could that be?" Stephanie asked. Vince had talked with her two days earlier and Shane only called at night. She shrugged as she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Steph," Shane said, his voice ragged.
"Hey Shaners," Stephanie replied, leaning back in her chair, expecting a chat with her brother. "What's up?"
"Something bad has happened," Shane said.
"What?" Stephanie asked, smiling to herself. "Is Dad embroiled in another lawsuit?"
"No Stephanie, I'm serious," Shane said.
"Okay," Stephanie said nodding. "What is it?"
"Dad died this morning," Shane said.
The phone slipped out of Stephanie's hand and crashed to the floor. Stephanie sat in her chair, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Stephanie!" Shane shouted over the receiver.
Stephanie looked down at the phone on the ground and slowly bent over to pick it up. "I'm here."
"You okay?" Shane asked. "I didn't want to tell you over the phone, but I didn't want you to find out from someone else."
"What happened?" Stephanie asked, tears pricking her eyes.
"He had a heart attack," Shane said.
"But he was so healthy," Stephanie said, tears flowing down her cheeks. "He worked out all the time and he ate healthy foods."
"I know Stephanie," Shane said. "It doesn't make sense to me either."
"Oh my God Shane," Stephanie said, a sob escaping. "He can't be dead!"
"I'm sorry sweetie," Shane said. "Look, I'm catching a flight up to Portland so I can meet you and we'll fly down to North Carolina together."
"North Carolina?" Stephanie asked in confusion.
"He wanted to be buried in North Carolina," Shane replied.
"Okay," Stephanie said.
"Are you going to be able to get to the airport okay?" Shane asked.
"I hope so," Stephanie said.
"I'll see you then," Shane said. "I love you sis."
"I love you too," Stephanie said, hanging up the phone.
Stephanie hung up the phone and buried her head in her arms on the desk. Her body shook with sobs as she cried for her father. After several moments, she sat up and went downstairs to get ready to leave her home.
*
Stephanie looked around the ground level of the lighthouse before she grabbed her keys and turned to leave. Moments after she left, the phone rang again.
"Hey, it's Steph. Leave a message."
"Steph, it's me. I just heard. I'm really sorry. I know you love him. Call me."