Page 8 of Somebody to Save
A ten-minute drive shouldn’t have yielded much deep conversation, but it only took Aunt Michelle two to go for the most pertinent topic.
“So, how’s your love life? You find your mystery girl yet?”
I choked out a cough and tried not to swerve into oncoming traffic. I should’ve expected her question, but my mind was elsewhere. Actually, my mind was on said mystery girl.
I didn’t keep much from my aunt. She was my confidante who never passed judgment and was always ready with advice. Although I hadn’t given her the more salacious details abouthow I met Bubbles or that she was much younger, I did tell her that I’d met a woman but didn’t know her name. And I was worse off for it.
“Not yet,” I muttered. “But it’s not for lack of trying.”
She huffed, and I caught her head shake out of my periphery.
“Really? You’ve done everything you can to find her?”
I nodded and merged into the turn lane, coming to a stop behind another car. “Yes, of course. Short of visiting the home of every person on the guest list, yes, I’ve done everything.”
“So, you haven’t done everything,” she remarked, and I gave her an unimpressed look.
“That is an invasion of privacy and could result in so many different lawsuits. I’m an attorney. I can’t break the law…like that.”
The thought had crossed my mind several times, and I’d constantly reassessed what I was willing to do to find her each time I’d come up empty. And I wasn’t ready to knock on doors…yet.
“If you’re not willing to break the law for her, she must not bethatspecial, Beckett. When I was your age, I once had this man?—”
“No,” I said, abruptly cutting her off. All her stories were outlandish and often included details I really didn’t want to hear. She’d lived a million lives and had stories about every single one of them. “I can’t hear another story about you and a man after the skydiving one. You traumatized me.”
I shivered at the thought, but Aunt Michelle grinned.
“Yeah, that was a good one,” she sighed, and I tried to shake away the reminder as we pulled through the gate of her new home.
She perked up in her seat and reached for the seatbelt the moment I started onto the circular drive.
“Please remain seated and strapped in until the car comes to a complete stop,” I said quickly, reaching over to still her hands with mine before she could unbuckle.
She huffed and waved me off. The moment I hit the brakes at the top of the drive and across from the door, she was unbuckled and pushing open the car door. For a woman pushing eighty, she could move quicker than I could keep up with. She was also always considering her next five moves before anyone else.
Groaning under my breath, I put the car in park, shut it off, and slid out into the chilly November air. I pocketed my keys and jogged through the automatic front door.
Aunt Michelle was standing in the middle of the grand entry appraising the largest bouquet of white flowers I’d ever seen on the table in front of her. There was a crystal chandelier mounted to the high ceilings and soft music playing in the background.
Directly through the entryway, there was a large open space with couches and tables where we were told many of the residents hung out and played games. Beyond that, the entire back wall was lined with doors that led to the extensive patio and pools.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I looked down to make sure it wasn’t urgent. One of my newer client’s names scrolled across the screen, and I battled with whether to take it. I didn’t like sending them to voicemail if I didn’t have to.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Aunt Michelle, who was busy leafing through a pamphlet that she’d found on the entry table. “I just have to take this call. I’ll only be a?—”
I couldn’t finish my sentence before she was waving me off.
I shook my head and stepped back outside to take the call. It was quick—only a few minutes to discuss the terms in our engagement letter and how our retainer worked.
Walking back inside, I was still staring down at my phone, texting one of my associates about the conversation and asking her to follow up with the client. As much as I would like it to, sometimes, work never stopped. I was attached to my phone more than ever since I’d taken over the business.
“Okay, I’m so sorry about that, Ms. Crawford. We’re a littleshort-staffed today. Our property manager is out, so I’m filling in.”
Immediately I abandoned my text message and slid my phone back into my pocket. I found it hard to breather after hearing the sweet, slightly southern lilt to her voice. Her back was to me, her light pink hair thrown up in a messy updo, and she was wearing a dress that almost matched.
The color of her hair almost threw me off, but I would have remembered the curve of her body and the melodic register of her voice anywhere.
A few quick steps, and I ate up most of the distance between us. My hands itched to reach out and touch her, to spin her around so I could see her face, but I stopped short. Only two feet between us, I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to ignore the aggressive thudding of my pulse.
