Heartbreaking News
17
B rynne had lain awake for hours after he left, savoring the scent of him on her skin and pondering what made him tick. Maybe his grudging agreement to tutor her meant the abominable iceman was melting. She still felt a surge of pride for making him come without using her hands. And before he could freeze up again, she taunted him into breaking his infernal rules.
While Gage might desire her, she didn’t believe it could be anything more. Their worlds were so far apart, and no matter how it played out, this D/s dalliance wouldn’t last. She was a novelty to him, and this was a social experiment to improve her book. Nothing more. The only problem was, she might need sex rehab when it was all over.
Nigel had left three articles on her desk, with a sticky note on top. Do your magic. We need these before two p.m. today.
Brynne got to work and finished the first two articles by noon. She canceled lunch with Jared and told him he had to wait until after work for all the juicy news.
She was eating a sandwich at her desk when her cell phone rang.
“Hi Auntie! What’s up?”
“Brynne. This is your Aunt Josie’s lawyer, Alistair Mackenzie.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
“I am sorry I’m calling with some bad news. Josie passed away yesterday.”
“What?!” She choked back a sob. “No, that cannot be. Please say this is a joke!”
The man cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not, dear. I’m here with the doctor and it appears she took her own life.”
“That’s impossible. There must be some mistake.”
“I take it you didn’t know about her illness?”
Brynne put her forehead down on her desk. “What? No, she never told me. She said everything was fine.” Her mind scattered. How could she not know this?
“Cancer had spread to her bones, and her brain. They gave her three months, and she was going to need palliative care quite soon. She refused it.”
She started quietly sobbing. “How can this be?”
“Josie left a letter for us to find and has named you as her executor. She didn’t want a funeral or public announcements until after you spread her ashes. There are more details I can share when I see you.”
“Oh my god. Okay.” Brynne tried to process his words. Executor. Funeral. Ashes.
The lawyer interrupted her scattered thoughts. “How soon can you get to Skye?”
Brynne grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose. “Uh, I will try to get a flight out this afternoon. I should be able to get there by tomorrow at the latest. But I have to arrange the time away from my two jobs.”
“I understand, dear. There is money set aside for your travel and anything else you need. Do you need me to wire you an advance?”
“No. Thank you, Mr. Mackenzie. I can use my credit card, and we can figure this out when I get there.”
They arranged to meet at his office tomorrow afternoon, unless she had an issue getting to the island. Brynne hung up the phone and stared at it, her mind in complete turmoil.
She didn’t want to be seen bawling at her desk, so she ran to the restroom and sobbed alone in the stall. When she heard the outer door open, she held her breath and pulled herself together. She texted Jared a brief note.
Brynne: My auntie passed away. She was dying and didn’t tell me! Leaving for Skye asap. I’m her executor. Will call u later.
Brynne repaired her tear-soaked face and went to find Nigel. Margaret was at her desk, reminding her of a mean junkyard dog.
“I need to see Nigel. I’ve got an emergency.”
She looked over her reading glasses at Brynne and replied in a patronizing tone. “What’s the emergency? I will see if he can spare the time.”
Brynne felt the rage sizzling along her nerve endings, like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. She clenched her fists hard and dug her nails into her palms.
How about you get the fuck out of my way before I clobber you with your stapler.
Nigel saved Brynne from blurting her thoughts when he came out of his office. One look at his concerned face and she promptly burst into tears.
He ushered her into his office and shut the door. She sat opposite his paper-strewn desk and explained the situation in between sobs. He looked uncomfortable but told her not to worry about the unfinished article, someone else would finish it. Brynne nodded and stood—thanking him for being so kind.
The shock of the news—and the realization that Josie didn’t trust her enough to share it—felt like a punch in the gut. Her nerves were frayed to the breaking point.
After a quick search, she booked a flight to Inverness. She reserved a car and a hotel, deciding against making the drive to Portree in the dark. Those roads were hard enough to navigate in broad daylight.
Brynne packed up her things, delivered the articles to Margaret’s desk, and went to find a cab. On the way home, she tried to reach her father but had to leave him a message. For a moment, she thought of her mother. Was she alive, and if so, where was she? Frankly, she didn’t care. It had been twenty-four years since Jaclyn Larimore had walked out the door, leaving her husband and daughter to fend for themselves. Aunt Josie lost her own father to a heart attack when she was young and her mother remarried Jaclyn’s father when she was nine years old. The half-sisters were ten years apart, and never became close. After Brynne’s mother abandoned them, Josie became the only maternal influence in her life. Losing her carved a gaping hole in her heart.
She must not sink into her own self-pity. She had to pack and be at the airport in two hours. There would be time to think once she was on the plane.
Brynne called Gage from her apartment and had to leave a message. Why the hell is no one answering their phone?
“Hi, it’s me. Brynne. I…I’ve had a death in the family.” She swallowed. “My auntie Josie. She was like a mother to me; she was there for me when nobody else was. Anyway, I have to help with the funeral arrangements. I just found out that I’m her executor. I’m sorry I won’t be at work for several days. Um, I expect to be back by the weekend. I hope that’s okay.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, call me when you get this. Bye.”
Next, she tried to reach Garrick but got his voicemail, too. Maybe it was just as well. She didn’t want to say it out loud anymore. She secretly prayed it wasn’t true, and that she’d wake from this nightmare soon.
She pulled out her small suitcase and paced around her bedroom in a fog, wondering what to pack. Her black dress and shoes went in first. On autopilot she gathered enough warm clothing for a week and called a taxi to take her to Victoria Station.
Her train to Luton was delayed, so she had to run for the boarding gate. Once she got to her seat on the plane, she saw three missed calls and several text messages.
Gage: Brynne, I’m sorry to hear about your aunt’s passing. Take the time you need. G.
Jared: Babe, I am so sorry. I know she meant the world to you. I’m here for you. Tried you a few times. Let me know you are there safely. Sending hugs! xo
Brynne was exhausted and fell asleep before they reached cruising altitude. The budget flight to Inverness had no Wi-Fi so her replies wouldn’t go through until they landed. She didn’t know what to say to Gage, except thank you.
The car rental only had a manual mini compact left. Thank goodness her father taught her how to drive a stick when she was seventeen. It took three wrong turns before she found the little hotel. With a deep sigh, she dropped everything and lay on the bed. She rang Jared and filled him in before going to sleep.
The day dawned gray and drizzly. She ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, black pudding, and toast before getting on the road. There was nothing like a good Scottish breakfast. She and Josie would often go to town on Sundays for breakfast at the Imperial Portree Hotel and then go on a nice long walk around town. Brynne remembered how she would flirt shamelessly with Declan, who owned the place. She wondered why they had never gotten together.
Two and a half hours later, as Brynne crossed the bridge to Skye, a feeling of peace engulfed her. She always felt safe, cared for, and loved here. It wasn’t only her aunt who made her feel that way. It was the close-knit community, too. They looked out for one another, unlike the people in London, who rarely looked up from their phones and never said hello even if you passed them every day. I’ve been gone from this place too long. I forgot how this island makes me feel.
In Skye, she felt she was coming home. The craggy Cuillin mountain range, the rugged terrain, the mercurial ocean, which could go from calm to gale force waves in an instant. As a child, she would stare at the clouds and try to guess when the heavens would open. To this day, they were impossible to predict. As she navigated the winding roads toward Portree, a small smile came to her face as she recalled countless sweet memories of Auntie Josie reading to her while they sat in front of the fire pit wrapped in wool blankets. She shared many legends of the faeries inhabiting the Misty Isle. How apropos that Garrick had named her Tink after the famous storybook fairy—not knowing her connection to them.
Would this island hold the same magic without Josie? Brynne couldn’t think about it. It was all too depressing.
Less than an hour later, she arrived in downtown Portree and parked in front of the law offices of Alistair Mackenzie.
The old wooden door creaked loudly when she entered and the bell jangled, alerting everyone to her arrival. The décor of the waiting room was dated, and she could smell burnt coffee mixed with a slightly musty odor. Nature was calling, so she ventured down the main hall to find someone.
She found the bathroom before anyone appeared and was glad to get freshened up. Alistair was waiting for her when she came out.
“Brynne. It’s lovely to see you, dear. I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
“Me too, Mr. Mackenzie. I’m afraid I am still in shock.”
He was a kindly man, tall with carefully trimmed gray hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a pencil mustache that reminded her of Clark Gable. “Alistair, please call me Alistair. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
Brynne assumed the coffee had been on the burner since breakfast. “No, thank you. I had one on the road.”
He led the way to his office, which resembled her editor’s. Piles of paper were everywhere, and file boxes lined the floor behind his desk.
“I’m sure you’re tired after your trip, so let me get right to it. Your aunt knew she was going to die and several months ago she put her affairs in order.”
“When did she find out about the cancer?”
“About six months ago. She sensed it had come back because of pain in her hip and back. That’s when she came to see me.”
“I see.” Brynne’s shoulders slumped. “I should have noticed. And I should have visited, but she always convinced me everything was fine.”
Alistair looked her sternly in the eye. “Josie didn’t want you to know. When she put her mind to something, nothing and no one could stop her. You know that.”
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Brynne nodded. Now it made sense why she insisted on putting Brynne on the deed of the house not long after she broke her hip.
“Josie left an additional codicil, in her own handwriting, which details her wishes. I’m here to help you with this. Her body is still with the coroner since they recorded it as a suspicious death.”
Brynne nibbled her bottom lip. “Do you have an idea how long that will take?”
“A couple of days at the most. I don’t want you to worry. Josie took care of most of the decisions for you. She prearranged with the funeral home for her cremation, and even booked Geordie Freeman to take you out on his boat to spread her ashes.”
“Wow, she thought of everything, and I’m so grateful for that. You mentioned on the phone about not letting anyone know. How are we going to keep this secret? Everyone in this town knows everyone’s business.”
“That’s the truth. But we will do our best. Only Declan knows, plus the doctor and the coroner. They are all sworn to secrecy.”
“Did she have special wishes about the announcements or the obituary?”
“Oh yes. She wrote them herself and posted them to me a week ago.”
“Of course she did.” Brynne couldn’t help but smile. That was the way her aunt did everything. With precision and good planning.
“She registered her last will and testament here with me. I have a copy for you.” He handed her a sealed envelope, Josie’s clean bold script on the front: For Brynne. “As her sole heir, and favorite niece, she left everything to you.”
Brynne’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my. I knew she wanted me to have the cottage, but do you mean the rest of her assets as well?”
“Yes. It is a substantial estate and will take time to get through probate, but you will be quite a wealthy woman, Brynne.”
She sat back in the chair, holding the unopened envelope in her hands. The shocks just kept coming. “I’m stunned.”
“It shouldn’t come as a huge surprise. You were the daughter she never had.”
Brynne’s eyes filled with tears. Josie was her mother in every way except by birth. Remorse filled her because she hadn’t been to the island in over nine months. Now it would never be the same. Her lighthouse keeper, the one who guided her through every storm, had gone dark.
Alistair handed her another envelope with the keys to the cottage and to Josie’s car. “The car runs. Declan took her out in it every week and will continue to do that if you like. I presume you aren’t staying long?”
“I need to get back to London by the weekend, if possible.”
Alistair nodded. “I understand. We don’t have to talk about this now, but if you want to sell, there is keen interest from the owner of the adjacent property.”
“Okay. Good to know. I can’t think of doing that right now but I appreciate knowing it’s an option. Thank you for everything, Alistair.”
“You’re very welcome, dear. I’m here if you have any questions. I’ll call you when I hear from the coroner, and we can proceed. For now, mum’s the word.”
Brynne nodded. She put the unopened copy of the will in her purse and hurried to the car. Ominous rain clouds had rolled into the harbor, mostly dark gray, some edged with silver. Her phone had been buzzing for the last hour, and she had multiple messages to answer. Before anything else, she needed to figure out where to stay the night.
She couldn’t bring herself to sleep at the cottage alone. She needed a hotel, and the obvious choice was just around the corner. Declan was Josie’s closest friend, lover, and often her caregiver. He owned the best inn and restaurant in town. She was tired and hungry and would benefit from his calm presence.
Brynne made it inside before the rain started. She booked a room and went to the inn’s cozy bar and grill. Once seated, she let the hostess know she wanted to say hello to Declan.
He was not due back for about an hour, so Brynne ordered and checked her phone.
Jared: Bree, let me know you reached Skye and that you are okay. J.
Brynne: Hi J. All good. Made it to Portree. Met the lawyer. Going to stay in a hotel tonight. So much to tell you. I’ll call once I’m checked in. xoxo
Gage had texted, which was a nice surprise.
Gage: Let me know you’ve arrived and if there is anything I can do. Your shifts are covered. G.
Brynne obsessed over her reply, typing and erasing three messages. Finally, she settled on one:
Brynne: All is okay. Already met the lawyer. I’ve got a hotel for tonight and will go to my aunt’s house tomorrow. She made most of the arrangements in advance. I have to wait for her body to be released. I appreciate your offer. I’m doing okay. Brynne.
A few minutes later, he responded.
Gage: Good to hear.
Brynne: I forgot to give you my email address. [email protected].
Gage: Thank you. I’ll send the docs. No rush.
Brynne was finishing her fish and chips when Declan walked in. His light blue eyes met hers and she saw pain reflected there. She stood when he reached the table, and they hugged for a long time. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her.
He took the bench opposite and covertly wiped a tear from his eye.
“It’s good to see you, Brynnie.”
His thick accent made her smile. He was a salt-of-the-earth Scotsman. His hair and beard had gone grayer since she last saw him, and he looked weary.
“You too, Declan. I really can’t believe she’s gone. I never got to say goodbye.”
“I know, but she wanted it this way. She left a couple of letters at the house for you, which should help explain.” His weathered hand reached for hers and squeezed.
“I don’t think I can go there alone. I booked a room here tonight. Do you think you could come with me tomorrow?”
“Of course. I can take you after breakfast.”
She put her other hand on top of his and smiled. Then she spied the redness on his forearm. “Is that a new tattoo?” Brynne lifted the cuff of his shirt to reveal the top of it. Below a beautiful drawing of angel’s wings were the words Josie, my Angel in an old English script.
“It’s beautiful! I love it.” She spoke low, not wanting any attention. Declan had tattoos on his arms and chest, plus a few on his calves, which were visible when he wore his kilt. He looked pleased that she liked it.
“She put up a fight when I told her about it. But in the end, I convinced her.” He winked suggestively when he said it, and Brynne blushed. “Okay lass, I must go. You call me if you need anything tonight.” He kissed the top of her hand and stood. “I’ll fetch you from the lobby at eleven tomorrow.”
“Okay. See you then. And Declan, thank you for everything.”
The waitress came over and talked her into trying the homemade Cranachan and a wee dram of whisky, compliments of Declan. Brynne was easy to convince, and she devoured the creamy confection of raspberries, whipped cream, and toasted oats, drizzled with malt whisky. She was pleasantly buzzed by the time she got to her room.
She avoided opening the will and instead ran a hot bath. Reading that document would make the nightmare real, and she wasn’t ready for it.
Once she tucked herself into bed, she opened the envelope and finally read the contents. Alistair had given her a hint, but seeing the list of assets in black and white was another thing entirely. It mentioned the house, noting that she was already on the title. She would assume the taxes and upkeep beginning in six months. Josie’s treasured ’66 MGB was not to be sold, but if Brynne didn’t want it, she should gift it to Declan Fraser.
There were several pages of legal jargon regarding her pension fund, and royalties from her books would continue to be paid by the publisher into an investment account, which would not be accessible until…
“What the fuck?!” Brynne screeched aloud. She read the last page of the document, and her mouth dropped open in shock. It laid out the conditions surrounding the inheritance in four bullet points:
Brynne must complete her revised manuscript within six months of my death.
Brynne must open her heart to a loving relationship and banish the three-date rule from her vocabulary.
She must endeavor to sustain a relationship with a suitable* man for a year.
Finally, Brynne should spend at least four months a year on Skye for the next two years.
*Suitable: Intelligent. Kind. Successful (this doesn’t mean money). Honest. Preferably Scottish. Preferably Dominant.
Brynne blew out the breath she was holding and sank back into the pillows. So, this is what it came down to? Conditions! Stipulations! Clauses?! Josie knew her better than anyone and knew damn well she didn’t like to be controlled. Yet she was trying to manipulate her from the grave? Not cool!
I love you Auntie, but this little plan of yours will not work!
Brynne would not go along with any of these bloody directives. She had two jobs, providing a steady income with a bit of extra cash to spare. God knows she had her hands full obeying a tall, annoying bastard back in London.
Brynne punched the pillow, turned out the light, and tried to get some sleep.