She could do this, she reminded herself. Real estate was often a long game. Darcy had told her the average real estate agent closed around twelve transactions a year, and Roxy was confident she would be above average. She might be scraping by right now, but she was doing it on her terms, just as she preferred handling everything in her life.
After dessert, everyone helped clear the table and started issuing their goodbyes. Roxy gave hugs to everyone, ending with her mother, who handed her a reusable shopping bag filled with multiple Tupperware containers.
“You’ve lost too much weight,” she said as she hugged Roxy. “I’ll start making you come over for meals more often if you don’t take better care of yourself.”
Roxy rolled her eyes. She tended to range between a size twelve and a size sixteen depending on the time of year, how active she felt like being, and how much she indulged in the foods she most enjoyed. Her mother was right that she was currently shopping in her closet for the size twelves thanks to not eating three square meals a day, but that was hardly a reason to panic.
“Thanks, Mama. I’ll bring your Tupperware back next time I come over.”
“Okay.” Her mother pulled back from the hug and placed her hands on the sides of Roxy’s face. “You call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Satisfied, her mother let her go with a warning to drive safe. Roxy carried her bag to her car, grateful for the food that would fill her nearly empty fridge, and headed home.
While she loved visiting with everyone, she privately admitted she enjoyed returning to the relative peace and quiet of her apartment almost as much. She walked inside, flipped on the lights, locked her door, and tossed her purse on the nearby kitchen counter before carrying the food to the fridge and loading it inside. After setting the empty bag on the counter to deal with later, she reached for her purse to bring it into the bedroom with her.
Her hand paused midway to her purse as she caught sight of the corner of a twenty-dollar bill poking out of a rarely used outer pocket. She hadn’t had any cash when she went to her parents’ house.
A few minutes of sorting through her purse later, she counted over two hundred dollars that had been stuffed into nearly every nook and cranny. She shook her head and smiled as she pictured her family distracting her so each of them could secretly contribute to the small windfall. As exhausting as they could be, she was damn lucky to have them.
Her phone pinged inside her purse. She set the money down to see who had texted her and read her mother’s name.
Home safe?
Her mother knew it took exactly fifteen minutes to get from her house to Roxy’s apartment. If Roxy didn’t send a text the moment she got home, her mother checked in. If Roxy didn’t reply, it was highly likely her mother would call in the National Guard.
Yep, she typed. Just unloaded food containers. Thanks again for dinner. Love you.
Good. Love you, too.
Roxy glanced at her text feed and found a couple of texts awaiting her response, so she typed out those replies. She also checked her email and discovered she had a few she would need to address before she went to bed.
Hot shower first, she decided, swiping the email tab away.
She caught a glimpse of the wallpaper she had saved on her phone after meeting Callan. It was an image of him standing on the ice in his uniform without a helmet. He had paused to lift the edge of his jersey to wipe sweat from his eyes, baring his well-defined abs. That sexy-as-hell V was just barely visible between whatever pads he wore around his waist.
She had considered changing the image a few times over the past week, but she liked it too much to bother. His ghosting aside, the guy was dream fodder.
Besides, she reminded herself as she collected her purse and cash and headed to her bedroom, she needed to be focused on her career right now. Callan Murphy was a distraction she couldn’t afford.
As much as she loved her family, she was determined to get herself to a point where they didn’t feel as though they had to give her money every time they saw her.
Chapter Nine
Not even two weeks after his visit with his grandfather, Callan returned home from his funeral.
He was still numb. He had gotten the life-changing call only two days after their visit. His grandfather’s twice-weekly housekeeper had let herself into his apartment and found him unresponsive in his bed. She called 911, but the first responders hadn’t been able to do anything for him.
The coroner ruled it a heart attack. She said he passed peacefully in his sleep, something Callan hoped was true and not just some bullshit handed to loved ones to make them feel better.
His grandfather had long ago made detailed plans for his passing. He was to be buried in the family plot in Boston next to his beloved wife, Judith, and their son who had died in infancy. Callan flew to Boston with his grandfather’s body, accompanying the casket from the morgue to the airport and then from Logan Airport in Boston to the cemetery where he would be buried.
Thank God Christian had insisted on going with him. He couldn’t have handled it otherwise.
His friend went with him to claim his grandfather’s body. He helped him make the travel arrangements. He helped Callan think of the many people who had to be notified, from his parents to his grandfather’s Boston house staff to his team of attorneys. Christian had even made the call to the mortuary in Boston to figure out the logistics of bringing G-Man there and scheduling the funeral.
His help had been invaluable…his company essential. He’d kept Callan from spiraling down a rabbit hole of devastating guilt.
Guilt that his grandfather had died in a city he hadn’t liked.
Guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with him while he’d had the chance.
Guilt that he hadn’t agreed to go with his grandfather to spend time with him in Boston when he asked, even if they never would have had the chance to go.
“You can’t keep thinking shit like that, man,” Christian had said when Callan got drunk enough to voice some of his innermost thoughts. “G-Man wouldn’t want you feeling that way.”
Christian had lost his birth father when he was a child, so he had enough experience on the subject to offer advice. It unfortunately did very little to change how Callan felt. He actually felt more guilty because Christian was right. His grandfather hadn’t cared that he didn’t spend a ton of time with him. He had just been happy to enjoy what time together he could get.
He had deserved more, Callan thought now as he wheeled his suitcase into his bedroom and left it in the middle of his closet for his cleaning service to handle when they next came by. He looked at the carry-on sitting on top of the suitcase and debated whether to store it. After a moment, he lifted it and carried it with him into the family room.
Even though his grandfather had been highly organized and all of his affairs had been in order, it would take months for his will to be reviewed, probated, and fully executed. His attorneys were handling all of that.
Callan had been given a copy of the will, however. In it, he was named the sole beneficiary to his grandfather’s estate, which meant he would eventually inherit all of his grandfather’s assets, from his beloved four-million-dollar beach home in Houghs Neck and his three other properties around the world to his billion-dollar cash and investments portfolio.