Like most people, I wasn’t particularly fond of lawyers. My father’s lawyer, specifically, was a piece of work. There was a reason the two of them got along so well. They were both stubborn and stoic men who believed the world belonged at their feet.
Going to the office of Clayton Reeve was not an errand I was looking forward to, but it had to be done. Dad’s estate had to be wound up and Clayton was the one entrusted with making it happen.
But apparently he needed my signature on a couple of things before he could do his job. When his assistant called me to set up the appointment, she told me to get there at ten sharp.
Glancing down at my watch, a bulky silver thing that was a gift to myself when I finished my first project, I saw I still had some time before I was expected at Clayton’s office. The financial district was the nerve center of business in downtown Boston, and naturally, it was where the lawyer’s office was located.
Given that half the people who worked in the area suffered from caffeine addiction or felt it a necessity to jumpstart their workday, there were at least a half dozen coffee shops I could go to in order to satisfy my own cravings for the stuff. If I was going to be spending the morning going over my dad’s final wishes with Clayton, I needed an extra strong, super big cup of the best coffee I could find.
Thankfully, I knew just the place. It was one of the smaller coffee houses with only about four tables inside and a counter with one barista named Paul. It was family owned, too. None of those commercial chains would do it for me this morning.
Finding parking near Turner’s was always a nightmare, but since it was around the corner from Clayton’s office, at least I would only have to attempt the feat once this morning. Somehow managing to snag a spot only about a block up from the Turners’ coffee shop, I thanked the parking angel and hurried to the warmth of the shop.
Paul grinned when I walked in, obviously remembering me from when I was a regular while Craig and I had a project going nearby. “Mr. Bridges. It’s good to see you. Can I get you a large filter just the way it is?”
This is why I preferred Turner’s to the other places. It had been at least a month since the last time I was here, yet Paul remembered my usual order. Not half bad, given the amount of people he served every day.
There was also the possibility that most people who frequented Turner’s took their coffee that way and as such, was a safe guess. But I preferred to think he remembered my order. Returning his grin, I nodded. “Please, Paul. Thanks.”
A young man darted away from one of the tables just after I finished my order. He left his empty cup behind, along with a coffee stained napkin. Paul made a move to clear the table for me, but I shook my head. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”
Glaring after the guy, I picked up his trash and chucked it away in the marked bins near the door. Paul nodded his thanks, then handed me my coffee. As I sat down, I noticed the man left his newspaper on the seat beside the one that now belonged to me.
The front page advertised an article on the sixth page with a familiar name right there in the title. “Jeff Bridges: We celebrate his life and times.”
With my heart becoming suddenly heavy in my chest, I picked up the paper. Morbid curiosity took over and I turned to the article, even though I needed no more reminders that my father was no longer among the living.
I was feeling strangely numb about it. My father and I hadn’t been the closest, but he was still my dad. It was terrible to have to keep staring that fact straight in the face without being able to blink for so much as a single damn minute.
First there was the hospital, then the worst happened and I turned to dealing with arrangements then organizing the funeral that served as a constant reminder. I’d started hearing from insurance companies and the likes right away and realized that was the tip of the iceberg and I’d have to end up canceling his subscriptions, his phone and cable before I was through. I hadn’t been prepared for all the administrative details there would be to deal with and I really hoped the lawyer wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.
Work was already crazy, and with the amount of time I’d already had to be away from work with everything that happened, I was in danger of falling behind for the first time ever. There were sure to be a couple of late nights in my future.
When I reached the page of the newspaper article, I realized they had used one of the photos I’d used at the funeral. It was a good picture, one where he was wearing a gray pinstripe suit with an emerald green tie that brought out the color of his eyes.
Scanning through the article, I knew he would have approved of the contents. It showed him in the light of being one of the most intelligent, hardworking men of his generation. There were several quotes from friends and industry leaders, some of which had been said at the funeral and others I didn’t recognize. The reporter must have called around to get quotes for her article.
They weren’t wrong. He had been intelligent and hardworking, dedicated to his job and loyal to his friends. Articles similar to this one were a dime a dozen in his life. He was frequently contacted by reporters, mostly by those in his field, but this would be the last. It was a good one to go out with, at least.
For as many articles as there had been written about my father, I knew there would never be one published about me. Except perhaps to answer the last question posed in this one—what would happen to the billions my father left.
My phone vibrated on the table, a reminder that it was time for me to go find out what would happen to said billions. I had an uneasy feeling about my meeting with Clayton Reeve, not because I was afraid I wasn’t in Dad’s will—because I was afraid I was.
LAYTONThe lawyer was waiting for me when I strode into his office at ten o’clock on the dot. He stood, a somber expression on his face as he shook my hand. “Layton, I’m so sorry for your loss.”“Thank you,” I replied automatically, the same reply I’d been giving for days now.Motioning me into one of the high back black leather chairs around the conference table in his office, he took his own seat at the head. There was a thick brown file lying on the table, with a smaller manila envelope on top. “Your father left you this letter,” Clayton started, sliding the envelope off the file and handing it to me. I took it, but didn’t open it. “Would you like a moment of privacy to read it?”I shook my head. I didn’t need to read it, especially not while sitting in this lawyer’s stuffy office. It was lined with books I would bet he hardly ever opened, and filled with oversize furniture. There were oil paintings on the walls. Not of dogs playing poker, but of birds in flight.If I was ever go
MARISSA“Look Mommy, I can make snow angels!” Annie called out excitedly. She flung her little body onto the ground and started demonstrating before I could say a word about it.Luckily, she had the hood up on her coat and unless she went completely crazy, she wouldn’t get her clothes beneath it wet. “I see, baby. Well done! That’s a perfect snow angel.”She beamed up at me, rolling over to repeat her movements on an untouched patch of grass next to the first angel. I laughed, happy that I was getting to see how much she enjoyed the snow.Denise, Annie and I had decided to take a walk in one of Boston’s massive parks after a light snow had fallen. Snow was still a novelty to Annie and if I were being completely honest with myself, it made me feel slightly excited too.“You guys have been here nearly a year, you’d think she’d be used to the snow by now,” Denise commented, smiling as she watched Annie’s antics on the ground.“Nah, we arrived toward the end of winter last year. She didn’
Marissa Unlike most, Denise didn’t nod in understanding and move on to the next topic. Her head tilted slightly to the side, her eyes locked on mine. “That’s it?”I nodded. “That’s it.”She didn’t look away. “Then why do I sense that there’s more to the story than that lame answer?”Making sure Annie was out of earshot, I spotted her carefully maneuvering her way along the low crossbars. If she slipped, the ground was no more than an inch below her feet. Satisfied that she was both safe and couldn’t overhear us, I replied to Denise.“Probably because there is more,” I told her honestly.As much as I had always dodged the question before, I knew it was time I told Denise everything. She asked, and I wouldn’t lie to her outright. Telling her anything other than the truth now would be lying, and I didn’t want to do that to Denise. She didn’t deserve to be lied to, least of all by me.I was about to tell her the rest of the story that she had correctly sensed there was, but before I coul
LAYTONMonday came too soon, just like it always did. It didn’t matter too much to me, since I spent the weekend catching up on work anyway. It would have been nice if the weekend had been a day or two longer, though. I could have used more quiet time to catch up.The office was best for me when there weren’t a lot of people around. Fewer interruptions, and fewer other things requiring my immediate attention. When I hired all those people on, I thought getting them to do some of the jobs I had been doing when I was still alone in the firm would lessen my workload, and it had, but only by so much. I still had to sign off and give the final say about most things.I wouldn’t complain about it, though. It meant business was good, and since I’d spent my life focused on building up the business, it meant life was good.The morning passed by quickly, in a haze of pencil lines and paperwork. I was relieved and satisfied to see the number of new projects we were being requested to take on for
LaytonShrugging, I shook my head. “I don’t know. All Clayton Reeve told me was that the only condition placed on my receiving the inheritance was hiring her.”A deep line appeared between his slightly bushy eyebrows. “That’s pretty weird, but it’s a good deal, I think. Hire some woman and get the inheritance?”“Yeah, it’s a good deal,” I agreed. I didn’t have exact figures yet, since I hadn’t gone through the paperwork Reeve sent over, but it was a safe bet that her lifetime salary would be a drop in the bucket of what I stood to inherit. “I’m interviewing her soon. I didn’t want to make the offer flat out without even having met her.”“Good thinking,” he said. “I get it, but just think carefully, okay?”“Will do.” At that moment, there was another knock at the door. Before I could invite her in, a woman swept into my office. I wasn’t used to people coming in before I told them to, but I bit back any comment because this had to be her.A quick glance at the antique clock above my doo
MARISSAThe last thing I expected walking into the interview this morning was to find a guy who looked like this one sitting across from me. I mean, wow. How any of the women in this office got anything done with a boss who looked like him was beyond me.Granted, my last boss was older, so I didn’t have much experience working with men around my age, but this one was bound to make it harder to concentrate for anyone with a pulse and even the vaguest interest in men.He was nothing short of gorgeous, and having seen how hot his eyes grew when he was looking me over when I walked in, I was feeling way more aroused than an interview had the right to make me feel.As inconvenient as my arousal was, I could hardly blame myself. It had been a long time since I’d noticed a man the way I noticed him, the way that made me feel less like a mom and more like a woman. A woman with needs my trusty vibrator didn’t always fulfill as well as it could have.This man looked like he could fulfill those
MarissaThe flush spread from my cheeks down to my neck. I fought the urge to pull the collar of my dress away from the hot skin there. “I’ve been told I can talk an Eskimo into buying ice, and a man in the desert into giving me his last bottle of water.”“Jeffrey told you the latter, didn’t he?” Layton guessed. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. It had to be sadness. His father had been strict and firm, but fair.I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said I learned a lot from him. He was a good man to work for. A mentor to me, in a way. Losing him as a father must have been a thousand times more painful than losing him as an employer and mentor.I nodded, a fond smile curling on my lips as I remembered the day Jeffrey told me I would be able to talk a man in the desert into giving me his last water. We’d been going over the numbers of a project a large company wanted to commission him for.He wasn’t sure if the work would be worth the money. I told him I would try to
LAYTONLate the next Friday afternoon, I rubbed my tired eyes and looked over a three dimensional mock-up of one of my upcoming projects on my computer at the office. There was something not quite right about it, but I was having trouble putting my finger on what, exactly, was off.“Come on, man. Concentrate,” I muttered, squinting my eyes as I titled the image this way and that. Any minute now, I would see what was bothering me. Nothing jumped out, but I was sure it would soon. I just had to keep going.I was concentrating so hard, I didn’t notice there was someone else in my office until I heard the soft scrape of a chair against my laminate flooring. My head snapped toward the sound. I sighed internally when I saw who it was.Marissa.Of course. She was the only one who just walked into my office. No knocking, no waiting for me to call her in. It was an aggravating habit she had, but I didn’t show my aggravation.No good could come of it. She just wasn’t like the other people here.