“He’s an ass,” Shiloh said, fingers twined in mine. “Your last paper on the Cold War was brilliant.”
“Don’t know about that.”
She kissed my chin. “I typed it, so I do.” We arrived at her Buick and she ran her hands up my chest. “I have a free afternoon, if you catch my drift. Want a ride to your place?”
“Can’t. Tonight?”
“A man of few words. Tonight will have to do.” She kissed me softly. “Love you.”
“Love you,” I said and watched her go, still fucking trying to believe that girl was mine.
I started for home while typing a text.
Meet me at the Shack. 4 o’clock.
I waited and walked, praying Holden would fucking answer. Relief gusted out of me when he did.
Why?
I hesitated over a response. It had to be good. Holden was too fucking smart; he’d see through bullshit immediately.
I have something 4U.
Sounds romantic.
I rolled my eyes. It’s important. And if you don’t take it, I’ll never speak to you again.
Too late, I realized that might be exactly what Holden wanted.
I see what you did there, he replied. I don’t need new boots.
Just come. Please.
Please? Is this still Ronan Wentz or did someone steal his phone?
I bit out a curse and was typing something a lot worse than please when another text came.
I’ll be there.
I sighed again. Christ, he’s more work than Shiloh. The thought made me smile and then it faded instantly because the fucker was leaving.
But I’d done what I could. I didn’t know if it was enough, but it wasn’t nothing. That was something.
I walked home and arrived at my complex to see a thin old guy in a gray suit outside my door. He knocked, peered in the side window, and then started for the stairs to leave.
“Hey,” I said when he came down. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Ronan Wentz?”
“Yeah.” I crossed my arms, tensing.
“I’m Joel Barker, your Uncle Nelson’s attorney. We spoke on the phone.”
“Oh, right.”
“Can we go inside and talk?”
“Sure.”
We went into my place and I offered him a seat at the kitchen table. “Beer?”
“Thank you, no.” Joel Barker was a short guy, bristly gray mustache, rumpled suit. He pulled out a worn briefcase and set it on the table. “I’m very sorry to hear of Nelson’s untimely passing. I’ve represented him for years. Can’t say he was a friend, but… My condolences.”
I sat down across from him as he unlatched the briefcase. “Did they find out what happened?”
“Pulmonary embolism,” Barker said, withdrawing some papers. “Fortunately, they don’t think he suffered.”
Maybe not, but he died alone. That’s the part I fucking hated.
“I am the executor of your late uncle’s will,” Barker was saying. “He made modifications to it back in March. You are his sole beneficiary.”
“Meaning, what?”
“Meaning, he left you everything.” Barker put on glasses and peered at the will. “I, Nelson Kenneth Wentz, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath to my nephew, Ronan August Wentz, all of my earthly belongings to be disposed of, sold, or kept as he sees fit.”
I thought of the mountain of shit in his apartment that I’d now have to wade through.
“Also bequeathed to my nephew, the residential complexes, Bluffs and Cliffside—”
My head shot up. “Wait, hold on. He left me the buildings?”
“Indeed. May I continue?”
I sat back in the chair, my thoughts going a mile a minute.
“I also do hereby bequeath to him all liquid assets in my bank accounts, personal and business, in amounts totaling $63,976.”
I stared. “Dollars?”
He smiled. “Cold hard cash.”
I thought about the state of Nelson’s apartment, how miserly he was with the tenants and his own well-being.
“He has that much?”
“Had,” Barker said. “It’s yours now. Just sign here. The check will be issued to you within thirty business days. As for your uncle’s remains, he has requested to be cremated.”
“And then what?”
“He did not specify.” Barker adjusted his glasses. “Business with the apartment buildings is a bit more complicated. I’m in contact with the city and will help officiate the transfer of property deeds, permits, and so forth into your name.” He folded his hands. “That’s quite a big responsibility. I’m sure the city would be very eager—especially in the case of the Bluffs complex—to purchase the land from you.”
“And do what with it?”
“Knock the buildings down and turn them into condos, I’d imagine. The land is valuable. That would be another rather large windfall, young man, if I may say. Congratulations.”
I nodded vaguely, thinking the tenants who would have to move out wouldn’t see it that way. But holy shit.
I signed where Barker needed me to sign, and he shook my hand. “We’ll be in touch.”
I sat in the quiet of my kitchen for a long time—until the shadows started to creep across the floor—thinking about what Nelson had done. I replayed every conversation, every phone call. There weren’t many and few that had meant anything.
Except one. When I’d demanded to know where he’d been while I was rotting in foster care. His response echoed in my head.
We’re here now, aren’t we?
He was right. Because right now was all anyone was guaranteed…and the easiest thing to forget.
Part IV
Chapter Twenty-Eight
July
Bibi knocked on the bathroom door. “You ready, honey?”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Am I ready?
I’d been preparing for this night for years. All those late nights, working by a single lightbulb in the garage until my muscles ached and my eyes burned; countless trips to the post office to mail off orders, saving every penny…
I let myself smile. A little one. “I’m ready.”
I smoothed down my bright yellow dress and gave my hair one last inspection. Letitia was a wizard. She and the rest of the family had arrived a few days ahead of the grand opening, and she’d spent an afternoon giving me boho braids—small, less polished, loose ends, with strands of color woven in here and there. I loved it. I loved that she was here with me to see this. Letitia had opened her own shop too; she knew what tonight felt like better than anyone.
I let out a shaky breath and went out.
Except for Violet who was at Baylor in Texas, everyone I loved was gathered in the living room. Uncle Rudy, Aunt Bertie, Letitia, Bibi, and Ronan, who looked devastating in charcoal slacks, a fitted white button down, and dark blazer. His uncle had left him a pile of money and he’d bought some new clothes. He hated shopping but said it was worth it to make my night as perfect as possible.
“I don’t need anyone thinking I’m the bouncer,” he’d said.
“That’s ridiculous,” I’d teased. “You’d obviously be my arm candy.”