4
Josie
By the time I get to Mel's, the weight of the news is pressing down on me. I look at my best friend.
She pulls me into a hug, tenderly brushing my hair behind my ear.
"Don't. Please." I push her away gently. I've been in love with her for almost as long as we've known each other, going on 17 years. Unrequited, because she was incapable of romantic attraction—until Renna unlocked something inside her. I've accepted that it was never meant to be, me and her, but sometimes it's hard to be so close to her.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? You want some wine?"
"Sure." I could use it after the day I've had. "I got some news today."
She stops at the serious tone in my voice.
"Good or bad?"
"Good and bad, I think. My grandfather died recently."
She passes me a glass and sits beside me at the table. "Your grandfather? I didn't know you had any living grandparents."
"I didn't think I did." I shake my head. I pull the registered letter and the will from my pocket and hand it to her.
She puts her wine down and unfolds the papers. "What is it?" When I don't answer, she scans the page in her hands. Her eyes widen. "Is this real?"
"Apparently," I say drily. "I talked to the lawyer this morning."
"This penthouse is in the Vanderveen Tower."
"Yes. Apparently he's been living in town for my whole life. Mom cut him out of our lives thirty years ago, and that was that."
"Jos, do you have any idea how much that place must be worth?"
"It's valued around twenty-eight million." I pause. "His other assets are worth ten times that. At least."
She lets out a low whistle. "That's… Wow." She studies me for a long minute. "Why'd he leave it all to you?"
"That's the million dollar question. Mom shuts down whenever I ask anything about him. Dad just shrugs and tells me to leave the past alone."
"Your mom doesn't have any siblings, does she?"
I shake my head. "Not that I know of. Her parents were older when she was born, but I've never heard of anyone else on her side of the family. I know her mom died young, but beyond that, I don't know anything about her side of the family."
"Except that your grandfather was living here all this time. And is a bazillionaire," she says.
"Was," I correct absently. "Dad said he was a real estate developer. He was a big part of building Delmont up after the war. It was a nothing-town in the fifties."
She nods. "So I'm assuming inheriting millions is the good news. What's the bad?" She hands the papers back to me.
"There's a legal hold against the penthouse."
"English?"
"I need to come up with two hundred fifty thousand dollars in order to claim the inheritance."
"Ouch." She winces. "Do you have that kind of cash?"
"Nope. Not yet. If I don't come up with it, the penthouse and everything else will go to the Vanderveens—the building's owners. It was part of a court judgment over a property dispute."
"So you have to come up with a quarter of a million dollars in order to claim a quarter of a billion." A hint of question lingers in her tone.
"You know, you're a pretty smart cookie," I tease. "You should be a doctor or something."
She laughs. "So what's the plan?"
"I'll ask my parents first. They've got enough saved to lend it to me short-term."
Mel nods. "I don't have that much in savings yet—I've been focused on paying my student loans—but Renna has quite a bit saved up from her gymnastics sponsorships. If you can't find the money another way, I can talk to her."
I huff out a laugh. "No matter who I borrow it from, I'll pay double back." I take a sip of wine, then glance at her. "Would you come out there with me this weekend? I have no idea what to expect."
When I push open the door to the penthouse, an unnatural stillness stops me from entering.
"It's so quiet it's creepy," I murmur, my voice echoing through the vast space.
"Do you want me to go in first?" Mel rests her hand on my back, her warmth steady against me. I shake my head and step inside.
My gaze is immediately drawn to the east wall. The entire glass wall gives a breathtaking view of the lake, shimmering in the distance in the afternoon sun. Light spills into the room, casting shadows across the hardwood floors.
"Holy fuck," Renna murmurs behind us. "This place is all yours?"
She moves further into the room, her fingers trailing across the back of a buttery-soft leather sofa, heading straight for the grand fireplace. On the hand-carved marble mantel sits a collection of photos.
"I thought you didn't know him?"
I follow her to the fireplace. And freeze.
There, in a simple silver frame, is a photo of me at my hooding ceremony. It's a perfect shot of me, smiling proudly as I received my hood—when I officially became a doctor.
I swallow hard. That photo was never published. And after my parents' reaction, I know it didn't come from them. A chill slides down my spine.
"I haven't seen him since I was four," I whisper. "I didn't even know he was still alive."
Renna puts the picture back down carefully. "Well, he knew you." She turns to survey the room. "This place is incredible, Josie."
I wander into the kitchen, sleek stainless steel and marble countertops gleaming in the natural light, still shaken. "I didn't know what to expect. He was over a hundred years old. But this place…" I trail off, still trying to process everything. "It's spotless. He must've had help."
"There's a note here," Mel calls from the dining room. She's standing at a huge mahogany table that could easily seat a dozen people.
"A note?" Surprised, I cross the room to her. "What does it say?"
"It's addressed to you." She hands me the note and a business card.
It is, indeed, a professional note addressed to me—by name—from a woman named Donna. She's been cleaning the place for years, and will continue to clean twice a week until she hears from me with further instructions. I pocket the note. I'll contact her later.
"Come here." Renna's voice echoes from down the hall. "You've got to see this."
Mel and I follow her into a sprawling library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line three walls. My eyes are drawn to the view of the city through the wall of windows.
I head toward the view, but Mel catches my arm. "Jos. Look at his books."
I scan the shelves. The collection is staggering. Museum-quality special editions, rare first editions, classics, and shelves of carefully preserved literary fiction. And a full shelf of detective novels. "What a strange collection," I murmur under my breath.
Mel makes that weird throaty noise, the one she makes when she's worried. "Josie. Look."
I step closer. One entire shelf holds copies of almost every book I own. At eye level sits a row of candid photos of me—snapshots spanning the last thirty years.
I blink hard.
It's impossible that someone has the same reading tastes as I do. I read quite a bit, and while I enjoy a good fiction book—and I read a lot of literature—I have a secret love of sapphic romance books. Which shouldn't be surprising, seeing as I've been in love with the woman in front of me for nearly two decades and haven't been able to act on it.
A lot of people live vicariously through books.
I look closer at the titles and a cold feeling runs down my spine.
This isn't coincidence. These aren't just similar books—they're exact matches. Down to the same editions. I pull out one of my favorites. Sunshine Falls. Same cover art. Same edition I bought last month
I flip through it. Untouched. "It doesn't look like any of these have been read," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It wouldn't take a lot to find my Insta book club." I swallow hard, the words feeling hollow.
Renna comes up behind us. "Even the newest ones. That's creepy as fuck."
Mel gives her a sharp look. "It's… disconcerting," she says gently. "I'm sure there's a rational explanation."
I try to shrug off the uneasy feeling, but it makes my skin crawl. The careful arrangement of the books—in perfect chronological order, following my reading habits down to the book—it speaks of an attention to detail that goes way beyond casual interest.
I take a deep breath. Focus. "Do you think there's anything I could sell to help me come up with the money?"
I asked Mom and Dad last night at dinner if I could borrow the money, and Mom shut the idea down without discussion. She told me to let it go. Get on with my life. It's dirty money. Whatever that means. When I asked Dad later, he shrugged and just said he'd support Mom's wishes.
I wish I could help," Renna says quietly. "Almost all of my money is tied up in property or long-term investments."
I force a smile. "I'll figure something out. Don't worry."
I have no idea how, but it's not her problem.
"If I were you," Mel says thoughtfully, "I'd get an expert in here. Some of the art on these walls could be worth six figures. The vases, the sculptures, even some of the books might sell for thousands. The room full of coins upstairs belongs in a museum. It looks like your grandfather knew what he was investing in."
I nod slowly. Another thing to add to my ever-growing list. I guess I have the time, now that Mel's is taken up with Renna.
Later, at home alone, I open Her, the lesbian dating app that Ruby suggested. She was always good for a physical release while I was hooked on Mel, but she's pushing me to look for something real, now that Mel isn't the center of my universe.
I scroll aimlessly, pausing on a profile with no picture. Somehow, that intrigues me. The bio is short, professional—almost clinical. Looking for companionship. Open to connection. Prefer privacy until trust is established.
She sounds right up my alley.
NotNeurotic: Why is the mystery woman looking for companionship?
IcyBoss: I need someone to spend time with. I'm tired of being a loner.
NotNeurotic: Why are you hiding then?
IcyBoss: I don't want any coworkers seeing my face here.
NotNeurotic: Maybe I am a coworker.
IcyBoss: Unlikely, darling. Are you neurotic?
NotNeurotic: Not even a little. I'm about as normal as they come.
IcyBoss: You up for coffee?
Not Neurotic: Not this late. Wine or tea. Or coffee tomorrow?
IcyBoss: You busy right now?