Page 61 of Finding Noah
“I didn’t mean to say all that—”
“But then the two of you came by yesterday, and I saw such love—going both ways. Certainly, you might not work out as a couple.”
“I’m not sure we even qualify as a couple—”
“You’ll make it, though. I feel it in my bones. And if you don’t, then one of you can hire Mr. Sampson, and one of you can hire Mrs. Estwick—a very competent attorney—and you can sort out the assets. The point is, that you’ll both come away with something.” She patted her hair. “As opposed to the state.”
I blinked. “And there’s truly no one else?”
“Mr. Sampson says I’m not supposed to leave him anything. Something about solicitor/client relationships.”
“It might appear I coerced you and, although I appreciate the sentiment, I’m quite comfortable.”
Miss Esmeralda eyed me. “You could give him a tip once everything’s done. Another reason for me to leave you everything.”
“Of course.” When Mr. Sampson wasn’t around, I’d get her to tell me a more specific dollar amount rather than justa tip.
Which meant I was going to go along with this harebrained scheme. “Let me discuss this with Noah. If he agrees, we’ll…do whatever you need.”
Miss Esmeralda grinned. “I knew you were a smart young man.” She pointed to Mr. Sampson. “He’ll bring me the paperwork, and we’ll get this going. I might die tonight.”
My gaze shot to Mr. Sampson.
Who gave me a little shake of the head. No, he didn’t know anything specific.
I grasped Miss Esmeralda’s hand. “You have to stay alive for a long time, okay? Are we clear?”
She pressed her hand to my cheek. “For you, my dear boy, I will try.”
About ten minutes later, I was driving around Foggy Basin aimlessly—trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to Noah.
In the end, I headed home. I always wanted to be home when I wasn’t working. Dillon was a great boss, and I loved interacting withthe patrons, but what I really needed was to be home with Noah and our little family of pooches. He’d said he was looking at some rescue cats, so cat-proofing the spare bedroom needed to be a priority.
After I ran the dogs out, let them do their business, and then did a bit of basic training stuff—which Stormy aced while Sable and River…well, they tried. Anyway, I gave them each a sliver of freeze-dried salmon and then I led the pile of pooches upstairs. I wondered if they might go into my room, but they eagerly followed me into the yellow room. Bright and sunny.Will cats care about that? Oh well, I will. Noah will. That’s what counts.
I removed the beautiful quilt and folded it gently. I put it in the linen closet and grabbed an older blanket that was fraying around the edges. I laid that on the bed and then set about putting all the breakables in a hope chest that sat at the end of the bed.God, I hope they don’t scratch this.I had the impression Miss Esmeralda wouldn’t care—especially if it meant we were giving a home to some rescue cats.
Through our conversation that first night—which I still held so dear—she’d made it clear she loved animals and had, when she was more mobile, had a variety of pets in the house. Her last dog passed twelve years ago, with the final cat passing three years ago. She’d made it clear that if our dogs or cats caused damage, that she only asked weput things to right however you see fit.
She wants to gift us this house? This land? That doesn’t seem real. That’s not how things work in real life. Except they just might. If I were in her shoes, I’d pick the best people with the biggest hearts. Noah certainly fit that description to aT. He always put people—and animals—first. Probably why he’d chosen so many guys who weren’t right—he’d thought he couldfixthem.Is that how he sees me? As someone who needs to be fixed?I tried to be independent. Andreliable. And strong. But sometimes I wasn’t, and I worried he might just see me as another wayward soul in need of assistance.
As I wrapped a china figurine in a lovely lace doily, something caught my eye. Gently, I lifted the picture frame and turned it over. A moment passed before I realized what I was looking at.
Esmeralda, clearly, wearing a white- or cream-lace dress. My first instinct was a wedding dress, but I didn’t think so. Her long, black hair appeared windswept—as if someone had turned on a wind machine. The woman next to her wore overalls and some kind of a checked shirt. I couldn’t discern the colors because the photograph was black and white. A random guess was red and black or perhaps red and blue. Was this the Lucinda whom Esmeralda had mentioned yesterday?
They gazed at the photographer—Lucinda with a solemn expression, while Esmeralda sported a small smile. A knowing smile. As if saying,I have a secret none of you know about, and I’m not going to share.
Or perhaps that was fanciful thinking on my part.
Standing mere inches apart, they appeared close—although whether from physical proximity or some intimacy that wasn’t readily visible, I wasn’t certain.
I placed the framed photo on the bed. I’d take it to her. She might get upset, of course, or seeing it might make her smile. My gut instinct was smile. If she hadn’t wanted it around, then she would’ve tossed it years ago.
After completing the task of cat-proofing the room as best I could, I took the photograph downstairs. I wrapped it in newspaper and tucked it by the front door—making a mental note to show it to Noah before putting it in my SUV so I wouldn’t forget I had it.
Time to eat.And maybe start dinner. I had some nice chicken breasts. I also had some fresh mushrooms and some string beans. Ormaybe tacos. Tacos were Noah’s favorite. I had a taco kit with crunchy shells as well as some ground beef. Somehow, I figured I could make a meal.
I eyed the three dogs who’d dutifully followed me down the stairs. “Playtime?”
