Chapter 95
Tilda
“What would you like?” The barista smiles at me from her side of the counter.
“Um…” I roll my lips together as I read the list of specialty drink options. “What’s in a birthday cake latte?”
The woman grins. “Standard latte, but we whisk a couple spoonfuls of vanilla cake mix into the milk. Then top it with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles. It’s so good.
” She wiggles her fingers in a gimme motion.
“And we use gluten-free mix. I personally think it’s better hot, but you can have it either way. ”
I grin back at her excitement. “I’ll take a hot one, please.”
“Size?”
“Oh, um… large?”
She nods, confirming my choice as a good one. “Love the dress by the way,” she says while typing my order into her system. “It’s so pretty.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks heat as I smooth a hand down my lacy pink skirt.
I dressed for my own personal birthday party, in a dress that’s somewhere between hot and neon pink, with yellow hearts sporadically embroidered throughout the bodice and skirt. It’s cute but a little skimpy with thin straps, ending above my knees.
“Would you like anything else?”
I eye the little bakery case off to the side but shake my head.
This drink will be enough of a treat. And… eating a birthday dessert alone is a little sad.
A fact I know from experience.
Some of that is my family’s fault for sucking. Some of it is mine for never telling my friends when it was my birthday.
The barista tells me my total, and I use my card to pay, selecting the highest tip amount available on the automated system.
“Aw, thanks, hon.”
“You’re welcome.” I tuck the card back in my wallet.
Knowing I’m getting money today stresses me out. But being able to tip with abandon makes me feel a little better about it.
I step aside to wait as she makes my drink, and I think about the friends I had back in Vegas. People I worked with, mostly, who I don’t really talk to outside of the random group invite.
A weird feeling settles in my stomach as I accept the fact that I don’t plan on telling them I moved.
As I accept the fact that I’m not close with anyone.
Except…
A tattooed man sleeping in bed with me.
A muscled man scaring off a mountain lion for me.
A grumpy man humming the “Happy Birthday” song so I could pee.
“One birthday cake latte.”
I blink and grab the paper cup off the end of the counter. “Thank you.”
I was planning to sit inside and enjoy my drink while using their internet, but half of the tables are already in use, and I’m starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. So, I take my latte to my truck.
Thankfully, the wind is cooperating today, meaning it’s a little warm, but I don’t flash the store as I walk to where I parked.
I left my windows cracked, so when I get in, I don’t bother starting the engine.
Settling into the seat, I take a sip. And I groan.
Wowza.
I take another sip. And another. And wonder how weird it would be if I went back in for a second.
Weird enough that I know I won’t.
I pop out the questionable drink holder from the dashboard and set my latte in it. Then I do what I’ve been putting off all morning.
I check my bank account.
It takes me a moment to connect to the coffee shop’s Wi-Fi. And another moment to log into my bank app. And then I press a hand to my stomach.
The balance.
I pull in a slow breath.
The balance is the small amount I had before moving to Colorado. Plus, the twenty thousand. Minus the bit of money I’ve spent since then. Plus… five hundred thousand dollars.
I press down harder on my stomach.
“Fuck me.”
I blink.
“Holy fucking shit.”
I exhale.
“What the fuck, Uncle Jack?”
It’s real.
It’s so very real and so very much in my bank account.
I blink again, and a tear drips onto my dress.
If ever there was a time for swearing…
“What the fuck?” I whisper it this time.
I lower my phone to my lap and stare out the windshield.
It’s not like I thought Uncle Jack did that whole Vegas thing just to mess with me. But… two million just seemed so unlikely.
But now…
I lift my phone again.
Now, a quarter of that amount is sitting in my bank account.
I pick up my latte and take a drink.
Then another, because seriously, this is stupid good.
Staring at all six digits, I wonder what I need to save from that to pay taxes.
I don’t know much about the complication that is tax law, but I’m pretty sure you have to pay on inheritance.
Is this inheritance? Or a gift? Or does that not matter?
Putting my latte back down, I find my wallet and pull out the card for Richard and Son, glad I took it off his desk before leaving.
I dial the number.
It won’t be a hardship to save a certain amount. I don’t really have anything to spend all this on anyway.
The phone starts to ring as I mentally amend that thought. I will definitely be splurging on getting internet at my house.
Streaming shows will be a nice perk. But the lack of overall service is my biggest concern. If I spot a mountain lion, I need to be able to call Ethan.
My heartbeat jumps when I remember I don’t have Ethan’s number.
Maybe I could find him at the park? Or I—
“Richard and Son. How may I help you?” A man answers the phone.
“Hi, um, may I please talk to Richard?”
“And who shall I say is calling?”
“This is Matilda Wright.”
“Ah, yes.” The man’s tone turns cheerful. “This is Richard. Nice to hear from you. And I believe a happy birthday is in order.”
A swell of emotion catches in my throat, and I have to swallow it down. “Thank you. How are you?”
“Good. I’m good.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Now, what can I help you with?”
“Well, I… got the money.” A slightly hysterical chuckle escapes me.
“Not a small sum.” Richard’s responding laugh sounds much more sane.
“Yeah… I…” I take a breath. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“Anything you want, dear.”
“But, I mean… Like, do I have to pay taxes on it? Or… I don’t know.” My voice loses some of its volume. “I just don’t know.”
Richard gives a hum of understanding. “Ah, right. That’s my bad.
We got a little derailed during the reading with, well, the whole wedding thing.
I’m sorry about that.” He clears his throat.
“Jack has other money set aside for taxes. You just let me know if you end up working or get income from somewhere else, and we’ll factor that into the taxes when we file them for you. ”
“He…” I shake my head.
How in the freaking hell did Uncle Jack have this much money? Not just the two million. Plus the twenty thousand. But enough to also cover four years of taxes.
“Jack didn’t want to burden you with anything,” Richard says gently.
“And if you’d like me to, I can arrange to move a portion of these funds into an investment account.
Jack already set them up for you. And the money will still be easily accessible if you need it, but even a small amount of interest adds up when we’re talking about these sorts of sums.”
I feel slightly dizzy. “Um, yes, please.”
“I’ll email over some documents for you to digitally sign.” He reads an email address to me. “That one still correct?”
“It is.”
There’s a clacking on the other end as Richard types something. “Do you have any other questions?”
I swallow. “Um, the, uh, marriage part of the contract… Does it say anywhere that I have to be married to the same person for all four years? Or do I just need to be married? Not that I, we, plan to get divorced. But… in case…” I don’t bother finishing the sentence.
“Good question.” There’s some clicking on Richard’s end. “It doesn’t specify… So, as the executor of this contract, I read it as married, to whomever.”
“Okay.” I nod to myself, not sure how to feel about that but glad to have an answer. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I’ll send you that email before the end of the day. But if you ever need anything, you can text this number. Day or night.”
There’s nothing lecherous in his tone. Just compassion.
And it makes me miss Uncle Jack so much that my voice cracks. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because Jack was my friend. And you’re his little Matty.
And Stephen and I both pinkie swore to look after you.
” His tone is so genuine… My throat tightens, making it impossible for me to tell him that I don’t know who Stephen is.
“Now, go enjoy your birthday. And use some of your money for something frivolous. Jack would want you to.”