Page 2 of Impressing Brett

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“Lacy? Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

Eve’s voice sounds far away as I lower my cell phone to the table and lift my gaze to hers. “My father died,” I mutter.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, no. Oh, my God. That’s awful. I’ll have the waiter pack up our lunch to go.”

I snap out of it and shake my head. “No. We don’t need to leave.” We’re on our lunch break. We eat out together nearly every Monday. I’m certainly not going to forgo lunch with my friend and coworker over the death of my father.

She stares at me. “Surely you need to call some people. Make some arrangements. Where did he live? I can help you get plane tickets and—”

I shake my head again. “My father was a first-class asshole. I wouldn’t attend his funeral if my life depended on it.”

Her mouth falls open. After a moment, she slowly closes it. “Oh.” She reaches a hand across the table and sets it on top of mine, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice is calm, not the least bit judgmental. “And your mother?”

“She died when I was twelve. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her.” I offer a slight smile. I’m sort of kidding. It wasn’t my mother’s fault that she got cancer and left me. But it sure changed my life.

Eve swallows. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. It was just me. The rest of the eggs and sperm evaded the miserable life I had. Lucky them.” I’m being harsh. It’s hard not to be. Eve has mostly only known me as bubbly and outgoing. It’s the persona I took when I left home ten years ago. I like it much better than the quiet, shy introvert I became after my mother died.

I shake off my maudlin thoughts and smile at Eve as the waiter sets our plates down. I flip my hand over under hers and give her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine. Really. It’s a shock, is all. I didn’t figure the old fart would ever die.”

“Was he abusive?” she asked softly.

“Not physically. Not in the traditional sense. Mostly, he didn’t like children and hated being stuck with me when my mother died. He insisted I grow up and take over my mother’s responsibilities immediately.”

“At twelve?”

“Yes.” I take a bite of my club sandwich and force myself to chew and swallow. I honestly don’t care that my father died. Good riddance. But I am starting to wonder what the fallout might be.

I point at Eve’s lunch. “Aren’t you going to take a picture of that and send it to your husband?” I tease. Eve has the most interesting relationship with her husband, Colton. I’ve never fully put my finger on it, but I’ve often found myself jealous of the way Eve talks about him as if he hangs the moon.

Colton is oddly bossy, but not in a way that makes me cringe. Not like my father was. It’s different somehow. It’s more like he loves Eve so much that he can hardly stand to let her out of his sight, and he’s strange about her lunches.

She usually giggles in a playful way when she texts Colton, but today she maintains a more sober expression as if it’s needed on my behalf. She pulls out her phone, snaps a picture of her Cobb salad, and sends it off to him. She doesn’t even put her phone down because she knows he will respond immediately, and sure enough, a moment later, she smiles as she sets it aside.

“Let me guess,” I say, tilting my head, “he wants to see another picture after you’ve eaten.”

She nods, erasing her smile as her brow furrows. “Are you sure you’re okay? Even if you weren’t close to your father, it still has to be a shock.”

I force another bite down my throat before admitting, “I am slightly concerned I’ll have to do something about his estate.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Did he have a lot of money?”

I shrug. “Probably. He was a lawyer. A bigwig in my hometown in Indiana. That was his partner who called to let me know he died.” I shudder. I’ve never cared for Maximillian Rutherford II, either. And worse than him—his son, Max III.

Bile rises in my throat at the thought of communicating with either man.

“Will you have to deal with his estate then?”

“Doubt it. He wrote me out of his will when I left town ten years ago. Somehow, he thought if he threatened to cut me off, I would toe the line and do his bidding. He was wrong. Best choice I ever made.” I shudder at the memory of my father’s stern look as I packed up only the most necessary items to get me by and left his house for the last time.

I knew what he thought at the time. He thought I’d never last out in the world without his fucking money. He thought I’d be back in a week…or a month…or a year. But I never glanced over my shoulder even once.

Eve looks appropriately horrified and sad. She’s a good friend. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “That really sucks.”

I shrug and take another bite before I continue. “If he’d really wanted to make my life difficult, he should’ve cut me off at eighteen. Luckily, he paid for my college degree even though he wanted me to become a lawyer. I had no interest in law. He didn’t think accounting was nearly as worthy a profession, but he let me do it.”

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