Page 8 of Unconditionally With Me
If what I was about to tell her wasn’t so serious, I’d make some crack that she’d get her bombe tonight. The problem is I know I’m about to drop a much more explosive one than the chocolate one I’m certain she actually wants me to make. “She passed away.”
“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you say anything? Did Erik call you?” Trina leans forward and wraps her arms around me.
I welcome the hug, even as I shake my head. “No. I was notified by her attorney.”
Trina deduces, “That’s what’s had you in a tither.”
She’s only partially correct. I pull back a bit, still holding on while I can. “Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“She left me something.”
Trina reaches out, pulls her chair closer to her, and shifts into it. “That was a lovely gesture. You met her when we flew out to Portland, right?”
I nod. A few years ago, Trina and I had a business event in Portland—a trip we never could have afforded on our own before she took over as executive chef. I spend a few minutes reminding her about the afternoon before we flew back, when I drove up to the assisted-living center Rachel lived at and spent time with her. Trina laughs when I mimic Rachel berating the kitchen staff into letting me borrow their kitchen to bake some of her favorite treats—snickerdoodles. “Rachel was cantankerous, demanding, and nosy to everyone about everything. It might have been love at first snark.”
“For both of you.” Trina squeezes my hand sympathetically.
“By the end of that visit, she was assuring me I was ‘obviously on a path to do better than Erik. Now get on it and find a man to give me great-grandnieces.’” I fall silent in memory as Trina tries to choke down her laughter.
“Are you adopting me, Rachel?”
“Would you mind?”
“Only if I can grow up to be just like you,” I told her honestly.
She wheezed when she laughed. “Right. Now, get on the baby thing.”
I told her bashfully, “I think I already might have.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me about him.”
So I did.
Now, two and a half years later, I’m still in the same place with Julian.
And Rachel’s gone.
Gathering my courage, I tell Trina, “She left me a building.”
Trina’s fingers go slack, so I’m the one holding her hand instead of her holding mine. “Excuse me?” Her voice is weak.
My words come out in a rush. “Apparently, she was wealthy. I had no idea about it until I received the letter from her attorney. But she owned a building and left it to me.”
“Holy crap. Have you seen it yet?”
I shake my head. “I have to deal with attorneys and things first.”
Trina’s face turns hard. “Is Erik going to contest the will?”
“No, because the rest of her fortune—God, it’s so odd to say that when I mention her name, but that’s what I read in the papers… Shit, none of this feels real.” My eyes water again.
Trina takes over, grabbing tissues and pressing them into my hand. “Take your time.”
I inhale and exhale until my emotions are under control before continuing. “Erik and his sister inherit the rest of her fortune unless they contest the will. If they do, then their part will immediately revert to the beneficiary they are contesting against. Apparently, it’s ironclad.”
“I hesitate to ask, but…”
