“Sounds legit.” Gabe takes the coffee I hand him and gestures at his office. “Let’s go sit.”
“So?” I ask and take a sip, waiting for Gabe to tell me why he’s being so weird.
“Claire named you her estate manager.” I just gawk at him as he fiddles with his pen. “I know this is surprising, but all things considered, you were probably the closest thing she had to a family, and I think she felt you would best represent her.”
“That’s bullshit, Gabe!” I jab a finger on his desk. “You’re the town lawyer, and you were just as close to her as I was!”
“Andrew…” He tries to speak, but I’m reeling at the news. I’m carrying too much weight on me as it is, and having to get tangled up in legal bullshit will just be more burden to carry.
“No, Gabriel, that old lady is trying to meddle from the grave, and I can damn well see she had a sneaky motive to do this, so spill!”
“She was worried you’d get lost now that she’s gone.” Gabe doesn’t look me in the eyes as he talks. “Claire felt that helping her maintain The Lantern Lodge was helping you find balance and a sense of belonging, and she didn’t want her death to take that away from you. I guess she’s just trying to look out for you.”
All the fight leaves me at his words. They’re a bitter reminder of how hard I’ve been struggling just to keep going, keep pushing forward, or at least not roll backward.
My only lifeline is those memories I hold on to of a life long gone, of a love I no longer deserve.
“What do I have to do?” I ask after pondering in silence for a while, enough for both Gabe and me to finish our coffees.
“Well, that’s the tricky part.” Gabe exhales. “Claire left the inn to Hamond Zane, a distant nephew and her last remaining blood relative. He’s also some hotshot real-estate mogul and refuses to take time off his schedule to come here, so you’re going to have to go to New York, and I’m not entirely sure what’ll be waiting for you once you land there.”
I nod my understanding. Whatever it is can’t be any worse than what I’ve already been through. I mentally groan at my own famous last words, hoping the place I’m at really is rock bottom. Otherwise, I’ll be buried too deep to be able to climb out.
Chapter Two
Two Weeks Later
Andy
Damn tie keeps choking me. Why Claire had to leave her most prized possession to an estranged nephew is beyond me, even if he is her last living blood relative.
But she entrusted me to carry out the wishes in her Will, even though I have zero legal experience, so I’ll put in my best effort even if I end up hanging myself with this goddamn tie!
“Breathe, Andrew.” I inhale and focus on my center, years of SEAL training snapping into action, and I immediately calm.
This giant law firm business has me on my toes, my instincts screaming at me that they’re being way too shifty about a small-town bed and breakfast thirty minutes out of Columbus, Ohio. When I asked who I’d be working with, all they would say is one of the junior associates would be handling the case but didn't tell me their name. I tried to look through all the junior associates on their website but gave up somewhere in the middle of last names starting with the letter H.
Who knew there were so many of those?
“Andrew Atkins for Teller, Hirsch, Berger,” I state when I reach the front desk of the fancy office building, smack in the heart of bustling Manhattan. After a minute on the phone, the receptionist informs me someone will be there shortly to see me up and indicates the lounge chairs, not so subtly telling me to get lost.
It takes almost ten minutes for a slender woman with the highest stiletto heels I have ever seen to call out my name and swipe me through security. She isn’t much warmer than the receptionist downstairs, but that doesn’t stop her from blatantly checking me out the entire elevator ride to the twenty-fifth floor.
I smile at her, too nervous to show any real interest in a woman who, frankly, doesn’t fascinate me even a bit.
“Someone will be with you shortly, Mr. Atkins.” She seats me in a conference room with heavy oak furniture and a giant screen, taking a drink request before leaving me to my own devices.
It isn’t long before I hear a different female voice growing louder as it approaches the room, and my heart rate spikes, realizing who that voice belongs to before my head catches up.
“Shit!” I jump up from the chair and look for a way out, only to realize there’s just the one door leading to the narrow corridor. I’m trapped.
“Look, just get the signed documents over by tomorrow.” Pause. “I don’t care that your PA is on vacation, and you don’t like the temp.” Pause. “Suck it up and be nice to the temp. Maybe that will motivate her to want to help you.”
Same old Phoebe. Even when she’s being a bitch to someone, it’s to look out for the little guy or gal in this case. Phoebe always had this ice-queen façade about her, even back in high school, but she was never mean to people who didn’t deserve it, and as head cheerleader, she was the number one advocate of the Zero Tolerance policy in our school.
The door opens, and I brace myself for whatever shit storm is about to hit once she walks through it, whether it be yelling, kicking, or slapping, all of which I would deserve and then some.
“Hi, I’m Phoebe Jen…” our gazes lock, and she stops mid-introduction, her beautiful gray eyes growing wide when she realizes who’s standing in front of her. My heart is racing like crazy, and I can barely breathe waiting for something, anything, to happen.
She still carries her almost five-feet-seven-inches with so much dignity and elegance, the proud fierceness in her stride means there’s no ignoring her. But there’s no denying the mesmerizing effect of her high cheekbones and proud chin, a straight nose, and those luscious lips… And God, those dark gray cat-eyes, remnants of Egyptian ancestry, always full of determination and fight. Except for now, when she’s looking at me with shock and relief, not a trace of the disdain I had expected to see when we met again.
“Andy.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Hi, Curls.” I try to smile, but I’m having a hard time getting my brain to send orders to the rest of my body.
We stand like that for a few seconds more before her phone drops onto the carpeted floor with a thud, and she throws herself into my arms, embracing my neck so tightly my air supply is all but cut off. Unlike the tie, it’s a good kind of suffocation, with her familiar warmth enveloping me, throwing me back to a life I had all but given up on living again, and I wrap my arms around her, amazed how she still fits perfectly against me.
“God, you smell good.” I wince when I realize that was out loud, but Phoebe’s embrace just tightens with a shaky laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She’s still whispering as if raising her voice will somehow make this not real.
“I’m here, Phoebs.” I allow myself another deep inhale, immersing myself in the moment, barely managing to suppress the need to break down and sob for the years of hell I went through when I could have been spending them in the heaven of her arms.
“I can’t believe you actually came to find me.”