Unforgettable
Page 7

She hangs up. I can just imagine the panic in the office: Harper is in charge of associates, and he didn’t get his nickname from being a warm and fuzzy mentor. He loves to leave blood in the water: he keeps longer hours than anyone, and rumor has it, he was already back on the phone with clients the moment they wheeled him out of heart surgery last year.
I look around. Even with the cluster of summer tourists and families, Beachwood Bay seems so peaceful compared to the city. No traffic, no sound of police sirens. And no dirty looks as you struggle along the subway platform, sweltering in the sticky heat. It’s a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, I wonder what it would be like to stay longer: spend another carefree summer here, the way I did when I was a kid.
Then my cellphone buzzes with a string of texts, all from Lexi, needing more information about the case. I quickly tap out what I can remember, guilty I’m so far away. Never mind a whole summer, I can’t risk staying away from work one single more day if I want to keep my job.
I finally switch my phone to silent and tuck it away, then head inside the diner.
“There she is. Honey, let me get you a plate.”
Immediately, I’m surrounded with people offering food and drink—and their warmest wishes. I spy Juliet across the room, dressed in a simple black dress. I go join her, relieved for a familiar face.
“It was a beautiful service,” she greets me with a hug. “Are you feeling any better? You raced out of the bar last night so fast, I was worried.”
The bar. Last night. Memories of that kiss with Ash coming crashing back to me.
I cough, feeling myself flush again. “Umm, yes. Sorry. I guess my emotions are all over the place.”
“It’s hard, I know.” Juliet’s smile turns sad. “When my mom died, I didn’t know how I was feeling half the time, I kept bouncing to extremes.”
I feel a pang. “I’m sorry.”
She nods. “Thanks. It was a few years ago, but, you never know when it’s going to hit you. Especially here, with all the memories.”
“My dad couldn’t wait to get back to New York,” I sigh. “Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it right now.”
“Everyone’s different. Me? I like to eat my feelings,” Juliet grins, holding up her overflowing plate as evidence.
I smile again, relieved to lighten the mood. “Just the way Nana would have wanted.”
Juliet giggles. “I remember, when I was having guy problems, she would always have a fresh batch of brownies baking. She said nothing felt so bad with chocolate.”
I laugh. “What happened to the guy?”
“He’s right over there.” Juliet points to Emerson, over by the buffet. “Lucky for me, he stopped being such trouble. My waistline couldn’t take more drama,” she jokes, as Emerson heads back over to us.
“What about drama?” he asks, taking a huge mouthful of fried chicken. Juliet laughs and wipes barbecue sauce from his chin.
“None any more, thank God.” She turns back to me, leaning to rest against his chest. “Are you seeing anyone back home?” she asks.
I shake my head and give my standard response. “I don’t have the time, they’re on us 24/7 at the law firm where I work.”
But still, I can’t help but glance around and wonder if Ash is still here in town. I don’t know what he was doing here last night; I didn’t have time to ask.
Since he was running away from you so fast.
Juliet looks thoughtful. “I wonder if we have anyone we can fix you up with…”
I shake my head so fast, my hair whips into my eyes. “Thanks, but I think I should take a break. I have enough bad blind date stories to write a novel.”
She grins. “You never know, it only takes one.”
Emerson chuckles. “I damn well hope so.”
They’re so cute together, I feel a tiny pang. There’s nobody I’ve ever felt that in synch with—nobody except Ash, for those few brief hours we spent together, at least.
Somebody clears their throat behind me. I turn. “I’m Albus Dudley,” a friendly-looking older man introduces himself. He’s got square-rimmed glasses and white-grey hair, with an old-fashioned formal manner about him. “I was your grandmother’s lawyer.”
“Oh, hi, great,” I exclaim. “I was meaning to find you.”
“Do you have a moment?” he asks. “Perhaps we could go somewhere quieter to talk.”
I look to Juliet and Emerson. “Of course, go ahead,” Juliet insists. “We’ll be over by the dessert table. And if I don’t get a chance to see you again, take care, OK?”
“Thanks, you too.”
I follow Albus back behind the counter to the diner office, where it’s more peaceful. The desk is piled with invoices, but he clears off a chair and offers me a seat. “My parents are sorry they couldn’t stay,” I apologize. “But I know my dad will want to talk to you about the arrangements, if you have time to give him a call.”
“Of course,” Albus nods. “But I wanted to speak to you first. You see, Nancy named me executor of her will. Essentially, that means she entrusted me to see out her wishes, and make sure her assets were properly disposed of.” He clears his throat again, adjusting his bow tie.
“Really, you should talk to my dad about all this.” I bite my lip. “It’s not really anything to do with me.”