Unforgettable
Page 8

“On the contrary.” Albus raises a finger. “Your grandmother’s will was very specific. She directed certain savings and investments to your father, set aside a trust for your sister and niece, and willed the remainder to you.”
I stare at him, surprised. “She left me something?”
I think he’s talking about some jewelry, or her old collections, but instead, Albus smiles.
“Rose Cottage,” he tells me. My mouth drops open in shock as he continues. “She left the house and land entirely to you.”
5.
“What are you going to do?”
Back in the city a week later, my mother voices the question that’s been running around in my mind ever since Albus delivered my Nana’s bombshell of a parting gift.
“I don’t know, I still can’t believe it.” I help her bring the food over to the table for Friday night dinner. Every week, we try to get together at my parents’ place, but with their schedules, it’s usually more like once a month—and even then, the food comes courtesy of General Tso’s down the block. Still, it’s nice to spend the time.
I unload the spread of food, and glare over at my dad. “You don’t mind, do you?” I check, feeling a pang of concern. “That she left it to me, I mean.”
“Of course not.” Dad absently pats my shoulder as he sits, still tapping away on his tablet device. “I think it’s a wonderful gift. A lump sum like that could set you up, you could buy something here in the city, or put it in a retirement account…”
“You mean, sell the B&B?” I pause, still torn. “I don’t know…”
“What else would you do, silly?” My mom interrupts us. Her short blonde hair is pushed off her face with a headband, and she’s still wearing her hospital scrubs. “Although, I’m not sure it’s worth all that much,” she pauses, frowning. “I remember, it wasn’t in great shape the last time we visited. The roof, remember? And that smell round back.”
“There was no smell!” I protest. “And Nana kept the place up. It’s lovely there, you should have stopped by. All the roses, and the back garden. This realtor said a beachfront plot is in big demand,” I add, remembering the brisk woman from the funeral, Hallie.
“Well, that’s great news.” Mom brightens, reaching for a plate. “You should call her back right away. See about finding a buyer.”
I join them at the table and start eating, but for some reason, I can’t get excited about selling the B&B. A windfall like this is a huge gift, but I can’t help thinking of Nana, bustling in that sunlit kitchen with something delicious in the oven.
Is selling what she planned for me?
“So how are you getting on at work?” my dad asks, finally tucking away his phone. He looks at me from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. “Is Harper still giving you associates a hard time?”
“The worst,” I sigh. “He’s been piling on hard this week, I think he’s still mad at me for taking time off for the funeral.”
“Don’t worry,” Dad reassures me. “Just keep your head down, bill those hours, and you’ll be fine.”
“When he was starting out, I wouldn’t see your father until midnight most nights,” Mom adds, laughing.
“What about you?” Dad protests, good-naturedly. “You were on your residency, what was that, two-day shifts, no sleep? You would come home, fall straight asleep, and then get up and go straight back to work.”
She smiles. “I swear, the first year of marriage, we barely had time for a real conversation.”
“That sounds awful,” I shudder. “You must have hated it.”
“Best years of our life,” Dad grins. “Staying in that tiny apartment above the subway, going days without sleep…”
“Eating food from vending machines and late-night bodegas…” Mom catches my expression and laughs. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s all part of getting ahead. If we hadn’t put those hours in, we never would have gotten to where we are today.”
Her pager suddenly sounds. She checks the number and makes a face. “I have to take this. My residents are doing their first solo surgeries, and they’re all scared stiff of killing someone!”
She goes to the next room to make the call. I pick idly at my food. “Do you really think it’s worth it?” I ask my dad quietly. “All the late nights and stress? Because I just don’t know… Every day at work, I feel like I’m running as fast as I can, just to keep up!”
“The first years are the hardest,” he tells me, his weathered face softening with sympathy. “But I know you can do it. This is what you’ve worked so hard for, after all. Remember studying for law school, and the bar exam? We got you through that, you can make it through a few sleepless nights now.” He digs into his food, content, but I’m not convinced. It’s not just about the tiredness and stress; lately I’ve been wondering if I’m even cut out to be a lawyer, after all.
I always wanted to take after my father, from the very first time I got to see him in court: so impressive and smart, up there performing for the jury. He’s been my role model, the reason I’ve worked so hard to follow in his footsteps. I’ve wanted to make him proud. The day I got my job offer from Levinson, Sutter and Pace, he took me out to his club and proudly told all his friends that they were looking at a future partner in the firm. It felt like the best day of my life: and the start of an amazing career.