Page 1 of Unconditionally With Me
Chapter 1
~Eleanor~
Ms. Bruder,
It is with our deepest regrets I reach out to you to notify you of the death of Rachel Kellari, one of the most cherished clients I have had the fortune of working with. I am required to do so in order to include the death notice in her file.
The deceased’s full legal name was Rachel Willa Shepard Kellari. At the time of her death, she resided permanently at the Salish Sea View Assisted Living Facility—a facility that is listed among her assets. She was born on March 19, 1939, and died May 15 of the year this letter is dated.
I have enclosed the necessary documents for you to validate the above information as well as information about our law firm. It is imperative you contact me as soon as you are able, as Ms. Kellari has left you something she felt would be, “Of great meaning to Elle.”Her words, not mine.
On a personal note, you have my deepest sympathies for your loss. Ms. Kellari was one of the most spunky women I ever had the opportunity to work with. She transcended time with her wisdom and made the day brighter with her laughter.
In short, she was one of those people we all hoped would live forever.
I truly wish there was some other way to break this news to you other than a letter, but attempts from my office to reach out to you haven’t been returned.
Please contact me as soon as possible so we can make arrangements to discuss your inheritance.
Sincerely,
Robin Pritchley III
I sinkto the floor in the middle of my living room, my head resting against my knees, the letter clutched in my fist. The words I just read still hold me in the grips of disbelief and despair.
In the eight years since I moved back to the city, so much has changed. And yet, so much has remained the same. I’m still just a pastry chef working for someone else—albeit a damn fine one. And, if it’s a good week, I see my boyfriend one night for every year we’ve been together—a grand total of three.
And despite the fact I know he loves me, there are days I feel alone in one of the most populated cities in the world. But for the second time in my life, I have no idea how to change it.
Rachel’s gone and with it, the last tie to my life before I was driven to move to New York City and took a job at one of the trendiest restaurants in the city. But even as I vowed to myself I was never going to look back, there were pieces of my heart I cherished even as I disavowed nearly everything else about my past.
I moved here for a reason, the main one being the sister of my heart, Trina Paxton Rice, and her two children. I knew it would take a little time to see them settled before I was able to move on—to fulfill the desires born long ago as I learned how to sift flour into something sinful and delicious.
The relationship I had with my ex’s great-aunt was another. To have lost Rachel without warning is a blow I wasn’t ready to sustain. I lift my head and spy the box I was ready to mail out to Seattle filled with her favorite gingersnap cookies. “No, this can’t be possible,” I moan as tears slide down my face.
My heart aches more at the idea of Rachel being gone than it does over having broken up with my ex, Erik, for being a cheating scumbag. But the compassionate part of me even hurts for him knowing it was his great-aunt Rachel who first accepted him for being bisexual, the matriarch of his conservative family who lectured them all, saying, “Love is unconditional.”
I haven’t spoken with my ex in more than six years, not since he and his now husband—Trina’s ex, Will—tried to take Trina’s children away in a brutal custody battle that cost her every cent she had to her name. But there’s a small part of me that can feel his agony. It’s like the connection we once shared as friends and lovers—before wretched actions severed them—healed enough in this moment for me to want to reach out.
Then I remember Trina eating the crusts of bread, living in a one-bedroom apartment with three people, and I close off my heart. Wiping my tears, I push to my feet and snatch up my cell phone. I smooth the crumpled letter out and dial the number at the bottom.
After a single ring, a smooth voice answers, “Pritchley, Hotchkiss, and Bartlett. How may I direct your call?”
“Mr. Robin Pritchley, please.”
“Let me transfer you to his assistant.”
I tap my foot while I’m placed on hold.
“Robin Pritchley’s office. This is Ona. How may I help you?”
“Yes, Ona. My name is Eleanor Bruder. I received a letter…”
“One moment, please.”
I pull my phone away from my ear as I’m immediately placed back on hold. “Seriously?”
Less than a minute later, a different voice answers, this one distinctly male. “Ms. Bruder? This is Rob Pritchley. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss. Rachel was a one-of-a-kind woman.”
