The Last Autograph (A Reluctant Kiss #3)

Chapter 5

5

Molly stepped out of the elevator and pushed through the double glass doors into the heart of the building. Cool air struck her as she approached the reception desk, making her wish she’d worn a jacket.

She smiled at the receptionist as she looked up from her computer. “Molly Parker. I have an appointment with Annabelle Sutton.”

“Of course.” She pressed a button on the phone in front of her, spoke quietly into the receiver, then stood. “Right this way.”

The receptionist led Molly along a corridor and knocked on the door of a corner office before entering.

An elegant-looking woman in a pencil skirt and crisp white shirt stepped out from behind the desk and extended her hand along with a curt nod, the scent of Flowerbomb wafting around her. “Ms. Parker, I’m Annabelle Sutton.” Her grip was overly firm, and Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. “Please, take a seat.”

A knot tightening in her stomach, Molly sat in the chair offered and waited for the lawyer to continue.

“Thank you for coming in. We’ve been trying to get hold of you for several weeks. I gather you’ve been working overseas?”

That bad feeling intensified. How would she know that? Molly nodded. “Yes, New York. My brother’s been forwarding my mail, and you know what the postal service is like these days,” she waffled. It was a habit born of nervousness that she could never quite contain.

A brief, tight smile lifted the corners of the lawyer’s mouth. “Indeed. So, you’re living in Clifton Falls now?”

“Yes, for the time being anyway. Sorry, but what’s this about?”

“Well, Falls Law is acting on behalf of the estate of James Sinclair, who recently passed away. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’ve been named as a beneficiary in his will.”

Bewildered, Molly let the name circle her brain. The surname was familiar, of course, but definitely not James. “James Sinclair? I don’t know a James Sinclair.”

“You possibly know him by his middle name, Jesse.”

Jesse? Molly covered her mouth with her hand. She went to speak, but words failed her. Why would this Sutton woman say such a thing?

“I’m sorry. I assumed you’d been informed. He passed away back in December.” She hesitated, then slid a box of tissues in Molly’s direction. “I gather from his family that you hadn’t seen James for some time. Is that correct?”

Molly struggled to keep her breath steady as she stared at the woman in utter disbelief. What was she saying? That Jesse was dead? That her Jesse and James Sinclair were one and the same person? “Eight years. It was eight years ago…” Her words drifted on a murmur.

The lawyer jotted something on a legal pad in front of her. “I see.”

But Ms. Sutton didn’t see at all. Molly didn’t know any James Sinclair. Jesse wasn’t dead. She’d seen him with her own eyes. Talked to him. Slapped his card on the bar in front of him before storming off.

Sorry, do we know each other?

She tugged a tissue from the box and held it in her lap. “But Jesse can’t be dead. I saw him the other day. At the lights on Seaview Road. Riding a Vespa. Without a helmet. And at the patisserie…” Her lips trembled, and Molly pressed them together as she looked at the lawyer, waiting for any of this to make sense.

“Ah, that would have been his brother, Jake.” The lawyer’s expression softened a little. “They are… were twins.”

“Twins?”

Ms. Sutton nodded. “You weren’t aware of this? And you had no contact with James in the weeks prior to his death?”

The lawyer’s questions faded into the background. “Jesse has a twin?” Molly slumped in her chair. “He’s really dead?”

“He is, I’m sorry to say. As I mentioned before, almost three months ago now.”

“But how? Was it an accident… Was he ill?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. I can, however, put you in touch with his family. In fact, as you’re a beneficiary, we could set up a meeting with James’ father, Henry. He’s the primary executor and can answer any questions you might have.”

Molly stared down at the hands clasped in her lap. The tissue now lay in shreds. Jesse was dead. How or of what, she didn’t know. And now, the lawyer was suggesting she meet his father.

“Sorry, but I… I’m not sure what any of this has to do with me.” Molly reached down, picked up her bag, and held it in her lap, the scraps of tissue still clutched in her unsteady hand. “I knew Jesse for only a few weeks. You must have the wrong girl.” She shifted to the edge of her seat, desperate to be out of the office so she could at least have some time alone to think.

“I understand this must come as a shock, but we definitely have the right person. James was most specific about that detail.”

Molly clutched her bag strap tighter. Why did this woman keep calling him James? That wasn’t his name. His name was Jesse. “I should go. Please pass on my condolences to Jesse’s family.”

“Of course.” Annabelle paused. “Do you have a business card with your email address on it?”

“For?”

“So we can forward any documents as necessary. Also, as I mentioned earlier, as executor of the will, James’ father will want to touch base at some point. But Henry’s out of the country for a few days, so may I pass on your details to Jake in the interim? I’m sure he can fill in any blanks you have and arrange a meeting with his father.”

Blanks? This whole situation was one big blank. “Look, Ms. Sutton. I appreciate your time,” Molly said as she rose from the chair, “but whatever it is that you think I’m entitled to, I can’t benefit from Jesse’s death. We hardly knew each other, and I’m sure his family wouldn’t appreciate me holding out my hand for something I don’t deserve, as insignificant as it may be.”

Ms. Sutton nodded. She unclipped a business card from the file and offered it to Molly, then stood and stepped out from behind her desk. “Jake’s details. And I understand your concern, but James nominated you for a reason, and it’s my job to see that nomination through, whatever the eventual outcome.”

Nominated? The woman made it sound as though Molly was up for some kind of award, not a payout from an ex-boyfriend’s estate. And was he ever… her boyfriend? As tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, she looked up to the heavens. She needed air, a shot of vodka, and someone to hold her tight.

“I… I just can’t be here. Not right now. I’m sorry.”

The lawyer’s expression softened further. “Why don’t you take some time to think it over? Speak to Jake. It might help set your mind at ease. Then, once the dust’s settled a little, we can talk again. There’s no urgency at this point.”

Suddenly desperately thirsty, Molly stepped forward, unsteady in her heels as she struggled to understand what Ms. Sutton meant by “no urgency.”

“Molly, are you all right?”

“Yes. It’s just…” She fished in her bag for her business card and held it out to the lawyer. “Here.”

“Thank you. May I pass on your details to Jake, or will you call him?”

Jake? Vespa guy? Baker of fine French pastries? The man who looked so much like the lover from her past that she could scarcely think straight when their eyes met that Valentine’s Day morning? The guy she’d been so rude to at the bar… “I…”

“As I said, he’ll help fill in any blanks.”

“I guess. I mean, okay, give him my number.”

“Great. We’ll be in touch.”

With tears still threatening to fall, Molly pushed through the door and out into the long corridor. She looked up, searching for a restroom sign.

In the dimly lit room, Molly leaned on the counter and studied her reflection in the mirror, her pallid complexion surprising her. Jesse was dead. What a tragic waste of such a talented man, and how devastating for his family and friends.

Even so, she couldn’t quite come to grips with her reaction. It wasn’t as if Jesse had been the love of her life; that particular guy hadn’t made himself known yet, and lately, she’d begun to question if he ever would.

However, there had been times in the past—while alone and melancholy—when Molly still wanted to make that call. The one where, even though inappropriate, she and Jesse would reconnect. She’d told herself it would be to say hi for old times’ sake, but her main objective was to understand, to ask the big “why,” and accept his apology with the grace that came with time and maturity.

But then common sense would prevail, and she’d slip her phone back into her bag or pocket or spot on the nightstand, shoving Jesse to the back of her mind, where he belonged. After all, if he wanted to get in touch with her, he would have.

A long time ago.

Confused and overwhelmed, Molly walked the few blocks back to the office to collect her car, her thoughts in turmoil.

Not to speak ill of the dead, but looking back, Jesse had been a complex character—one with a definite edge. He’d kept her at arm’s length until it suited him, sometimes not contacting her for days. But he’d also had a sweet side to his nature that would draw Molly in with just a look, a touch. As if he understood her at soul level, and that knowledge gave him a unique power over her.

In her late teens/early twenties, insta-love had been Molly’s thing, and Jesse was no exception. She’d fallen in lust the first time their eyes met, and by their third date, she’d mulled over the name Molly Sinclair repeatedly while contemplating where they’d live in the future.

However, their ending was as abrupt as their beginning, and, not that she’d admitted it to anyone other than CeCe, Molly hadn’t slept or eaten for days after he’d cast her aside. In the weeks that followed, she’d isolated herself from friends and stayed off social media while searching for a truth she could stomach.

Suffice it to say, her involvement with Jesse Sinclair was a major catalyst for change in her twenties, although that change hadn’t come easily. Why she kept involving herself with band guys who didn’t give a shit once the sex was over was something the younger Molly had failed to comprehend.

But, true to her word, Jesse Sinclair was the last band guy Molly ever fell for. And while one or two—possibly six at the very most—musicians came and went after the fact, the liaisons were always on her terms. By the time she turned twenty-five, Molly had ditched the groupie scene altogether, vowing to implement smart decision-making going forward.

As she unlocked her car door and slipped behind the wheel, Molly mentally reviewed the many questions she should have asked Annabelle Sutton.

Questions she’d now have to ask Jesse’s twin.

Once home, Molly kicked off her shoes and, with the tiles cool beneath her feet, opened the fridge door to grab a ginger beer. Held in place with a butterfly magnet, the flyer for the upcoming wine and food festival captured her attention.

She rolled her neck from side to side, attempting to release the day’s escalating tension. Initially, the prospect of being a bake-off contestant had excited her, but with everything that had happened over the past few hours, the competition now seemed so trivial, almost indulgent.

Still, she’d given her word and couldn’t back out at this late stage. The rehearsal was the following Tuesday, and the tents and stalls were already being erected in Petrie Park. This festival was a big deal on the Clifton Falls calendar of events, with Mitch and CeCe right in the thick of it.

Molly pulled the tab on the can and took a seat at the island, the soda spicy on her tongue as she mulled over the past eighteen months. After living and working in New York, returning to New Zealand when her visa expired was a huge adjustment. And as Molly sat alone in her pocket-sized kitchen, the depth of her restlessness, while not unexpected, surprised her all the same.

She reached into her bag and pulled out Jake Sinclair’s business card. Not ready to make contact so soon after the afternoon’s events, Molly would have a snack, followed by a hot shower, and then decide later how best to approach him.

Or if she’d even approach him at all.