“Yeah, but you’re moving there. Where are we going to stay if you haven’t told them you’re coming?”
I shrugged. “A hotel. I’m sure there are plenty of them available until we can find us an apartment or something.”
“Well, my moms gave me the money from my grandma’s inheritance a year early. I’m pitching in to whatever our living situation is going to be.”
“Jasper, that money was supposed to be for you. Not part of my grand adventure. And besides, this trip is being paid for by the Adam Ross inheritance fund.”
“He left you that much, huh?”
I nodded. “Paid off my schooling, yours, the mortgage note left on the house—though they only had six years left on their loan, so it wasn’t huge. Still, the accountant I hired to deal with it all said I still have close to a million bucks and more with the investments.”
“What? You’re a millionaire?” His mouth fell open in shock. I knew that look. I’d had it, too, when the accountant notified me.
“Not by choice or hard work,” I sighed as the weight of that money added another brick on top of my already tight shoulders.
“Well, my grandma left me enough. I’ll be fine for a good while. So I’m chipping in.”
“Whatever you say, Jas.” I flicked on the blinker to take the exit to the next rest stop. “Lunch?”
“Definitely. I’m starved,” he said while shoveling a palm full of chocolate-covered malt balls into his maw.
The man was stick thin and had a four-pack, but ate like a hippo. Overactive thyroid, apparently. He’d been skinny his whole life and would likely die that way. Bastard. I wouldn’t have called myself chubby exactly, but I liked food. More so, I liked sweets. All sweets. Which meant my body had some serious curves, enough to buy size large or extra-large tops instead of the extra-small my buddy bought in the men’s section. And I was perfectly at peace with that. My parents taught me to love the body I was given in whatever size it came and however it aged.
Besides, I’ve never seen a thin pastry chef. I wasn’t sure, but having some extra fluff might have been part of the requirements for graduating from culinary school.
I parked in front of what looked like a small café. It boasted sandwiches, soups and baked goods.
“Perfect. I’d kill for a cappuccino right now.” Jasper exited the car and slammed the door.
I got out and hollered, “Stop slamming Serenity’s doors! She doesn’t like it!”
“I’m sorry! I keep forgetting we’re not in your old car. Remember, it took acts of God to close that door.”
“Yeah, well, a stiff wind will close this one, so be nice.” I poked at his chest and held open the café door for him.
He pranced through like the queen he was. Jasper looked like a mix of desert cool and eighties rock ballad groupie, wearing teal skinny jeans tucked into black ankle boots, and a flowing, wide, white tunic that made his tanned skin stand out. None of it should have gone together but all of it did beautifully.
Me, I was easy. Dark blue bootleg jeans, yellow ribbed tank, brown leather sandals, an Apple watch so I could track my steps and a simple silver bangle with a giant turquoise stone in the center my parents gave me when I turned sixteen. Sometimes I rocked dangling earrings but not all the time because they got caught up in my hair. No muss, no fuss, I called it. My hair was a dark auburn and wild. I was told all the time that I looked exactly like Drew Barrymore from the first Charlie’s Angels movie. My biological dad Casey was incredibly proud of this fact and puffed up with extreme pride every time someone compared me to the actress. I’ll admit she was really pretty, and I did look a lot like her. Though at least now I know where I got the crazy hair from. Both Evie and Suda Kaye had a lot of hair, both with natural wave. Must have been a feature from my mother’s side.
I followed Jasper in and set about getting my bestie a sandwich, though we both instantly spied the dessert display and went there first, picking out the dessert before our meal.
What’s life without a little sweet?
Four
“Open it, I dare you!” Jasper shoved the pink envelope in my face.
I batted at the offending envelope as though it was a pesky mosquito then reached for the rum and Coke on the nightstand of our shared hotel room. I took a long gulp while leaning back against the headboard.
Jasper frowned deeply while flipping the envelope over and over. “The envelope only has your name and a number on it. This one says ‘Isabeau 18.’ Which means it’s the first letter she wrote to you since the others seem to follow almost every year after that.” He shuffled through the big stack.
“Mmm-hmm. Evie and Suda Kaye told me that.”
“And did they ever break the rules and open all of them?” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “We can totally do that if you want,” he encouraged.
I shook my head. “No. They told me it was an honor to read one each year on their birthdays. They looked forward to it. Did you know that both Evie and Suda Kaye have the same birthday, exactly two years apart?”
He bounced on his knees a bit on my bed. “If I’d been five minutes later, we’d have the same birthday, too!” He scrunched up his nose. It was a consistent sore spot for my bestie that his mom couldn’t wait the additional five minutes to have him.
“At least you’ll always be older than me,” I teased.
“By five minutes!” He stretched his long limbs out as though he was flying.
“By a whole day!” I stuck my tongue out and he groaned.
He held the envelope up. “We got tipsy like we planned. Now, are you gonna open the damn envelope already? I’m dying of anticipation.”
I kicked at his knee with my bare foot. “You open it if you’re so excited.”
He sat up straighter and his eyes bulged. “You sure? Because once you say go, I’m tearing into this puppy. No holds barred. Hulk style.”
I laughed. Jasper was a ball of light and positive energy. Drunk, or in this case pretty tipsy, you could multiply that by a thousand and you’d have the happy-go-lucky, cuddly, sweet, amped-up, wiggling-puppy vibe he had going on.
“Go ahead. Read it to me.” I set my head back and closed my eyes.
I heard him tearing open the envelope and unfolding the paper. I didn’t dare look for he’d see the fear and anxiety I was hiding behind my uncaring facade.
“Kah...sah...rai...bo.” He sounded out a word I’d never heard before and then repeated it. “Kasaraibo.”
I peeked at him as he pursed his lips. “What’s that mean?”