Page 67 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
“Second cupboard on the right above the fridge. Behind the peanut butter.” Walter pointed in the indicated direction.
Frowning, I looked from him to the cupboard, and then back before shuffling over and opening it. Sure enough, a box of English Breakfast could be seen peeking out from behind the peanut butter.
“Thank you,” Walter said as I put the kettle on to boil.
“You apparently knew my grandmother well,” I said, inviting explanation as I reclined against the counter, mug in hand. I was growing certain that one cup was no longer going to be enough.
“Well enough,” he admitted, lifting his briefcase onto the table. “I’ve been here once a week for the past two months, working with your grandmother to make sure everything was square with her estate.”
“Was there reason to think it wouldn’t be?”
Walter shrugged and then tugged his suit back into position with one hand. “Your grandmother was a very thorough person.”
“I am only beginning to see just how thorough,” I agreed, thinking of all the things I’d learned of her since her passing.
“And, because of that, she wanted to ensure none of your extended family came nosing around what are nowyourthings.”
“Extended family?” I shook my head. “I’m it, Walter. Just me. My parents are dead.”
“Ah,” he nodded, growing solemn. “She was most concerned with one Jeremiah Wilson, and a Kristian Wilson, in particular.”
I blinked in surprise. “My uncles? They’re alive?”
Walter shrugged. “She didn’t know. However, she also did not act as if they were dead. Simply an unknown.”
“Nobody has seen or heard from them since I was a toddler, to the best of my understanding,” I said. “We just assumed they were dead.”
“Well, regardless of their status, I’m here to make sure they don’t run any interference if-and-or when they learn of your grandmother’s passing.”
At that point, the kettle boiled. I made the tea according to Walter’s preference, and served him the mug. He bobbed the bag several times and then let it sit a moment.
She had it all planned out. Everything. Yet another sign that none of this was random. Including the letter she sent me. The warning.
“Walter,” I said suddenly, pinning him to the chair. “Tell me something.”
“If I have the answer, I will,” he said, picking up his mug and blowing on it.
“How did my grandmother know when she was going to die?”
The mug of tea died a fraction of an inch from his lips as Walter paused. For the first time, he looked down.
“She was very thorough, your grandmother,” he said cautiously.
“You said that already,” I pointed out. “You also said you’ve worked closely with her. Over the past two months, making sure everything would go smoothly. Which meant sheknewshe was going to die. I saw her twice in that time. She never said a word to me about it, nothing. Never hinted or showed any signs of health or cognitive decline to me or anyone else. I was her only family, Walter. Why would she not tell me?”
I turned away, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. I hadn’t meant to let so much burst forth on the poor lawyer, but once I’d started, I hadn’t been able to stop. The grief was still fairly raw. With Lincoln around last night, I had been able to forget about it for a bit, to think about something else instead. Now, dealing with her estate, it was all coming back.
Walter got up from the table and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Your grandmother and I never really talked about her death or if she was unwell. We would go up to her sitting room, and your grandmother would stare out at the forest while we discussed what would happen after the fact. How it had to be absolutely ironclad, her will. She had me redraft the documents four times to make it airtight. She wanted it all to come to you, without issue.”
My shoulders bobbed with a repressed sob. Why couldn’t she have justtoldme herself?
“But that was all,” he continued, sitting back down. “I wish I could be of more help, but she never mentioned it to me. Not even once. I never saw any signs that she was sick. Have you asked the coroner? Was there an autopsy?”
“No,” I whispered. “She wouldn’t want that. I can’t authorize it. She was eighty-six. It’s probably she died simply from old age.”
Walter mumbled some generic, compassionate words of support. I never really heard them in the moment, but it was a nice gesture. He was a kind person, I could see why my grandmother chose him as her lawyer.
“Your grandmother really was a wonderful lady,” he said some minutes later.
