Page 2 of Unconditionally With Me
I get choked up despite my initial frustration. “Thank you. She was.”
“My office has been trying for a few weeks to get a hold of you.” His voice holds no reprimand, but I bristle anyway.
“I work mainly mids and nights, Mr. Pritchley. If you were trying to call my cell and you don’t have the ability to break through while I’m on Do Not Disturb, you would have gone directly to voicemail.”
“Which my staff told me was full. From what Mr. Roppo told me when we spoke after the funeral, it was something he recalled you rarely cleared out.”
Mr. Roppo.Erik. The room becomes claustrophobic as, more and more, my past tries to bombard my present. “You did the right thing,” I assure him. “Is there a number I can program in to avoid this issue in the future?”
“When we’re done talking, I’ll transfer you back to my legal assistant, Ona. She’ll be the one you’ll be speaking with most often while we deal with your inheritance.”
“Can’t you just mail it? I’ll pay for shipping, of course.” I’m thinking Rachel left me something small to remember her by. She had a ton of frames in her room at the assisted-living center I admired the one time I visited her there.
Rob chuckles. “That might be a bit difficult.”
I frown, confused. “She lived in a room in an assisted-living center, Rob. And I imagine her family would inherit most things.”
“All of that is true, yes.” He hesitates. “How well did you know Rachel, Ms. Bruder?”
I begin to pace. “I dated her great-nephew—”
“Mr. Roppo?”
“Yes. Erik. We dated for several years during cooking school. It ended…poorly. But she was a great lady. She was almost a lifeline within his family for him. She had a good soul, but was so far removed from her family. I was never certain if that was by choice or deliberate.”
“Neither was I,” he says drolly.
We both laugh. “Once, when I had business on the West Coast not far from her, I went to see her. I wasn’t certain how she’d feel about it, but Rachel was delighted. She demanded the kitchen allow me to bake for her.” My gaze goes unfocused out the window as a bird lands on a ledge. “So, I began to send her cookies at least once a month. I have a package I was going to mail to her on my kitchen table right now.”
And that’s when the dam breaks and tears start to fall.
I’m not sure how long I foolishly stand there crying, letting sadness over Rachel’s loss wash over me when Rob’s voice interrupts me. “She knew how much you cared, Eleanor.”
“Please make it Elle.”
“Okay, Elle. When you’re a little less emotional over hearing the news, we need to talk about the inheritance itself.” He rattles off his working hours and times.
I quickly hunt down a pen and jot it down. “You’re being awfully accommodating,” I note.
“You really have no idea, do you?” he wonders.
“About what?” I query.
“About who Rachel Kellari was.” Hearing him mention her name in the past tense is something I’m not ready for.
“No, who is she?”
“Elle, Rachel owned a string of assisted-living facilities up and down the West Coast. Exclusive ones. She was also something of a real estate mogul, having been the sole heir from her father who was part of the gold rush.”
“Oh.” What else am I supposed to say?
I hear his fingers tapping against a table. “Maybe it’s best if I tell you now.”
“Tell me what?”
“What it is you inherited.”
“Like I said, just send me the paperwork I need to have it moved.” I’m getting impatient to end this call so I can feel what I need to feel and then lock away the emotions in a place no one ever touches. Not anymore.
