Chapter 15
Rachel filed the original will with the Monroe County court by ten the next morning, along with the papers challenging Arthur’s appointment as executor and asking the court to stop the sale of Twenty-Three Hibiscus Lane until the ownership dispute was settled.
Yolanda notarized what needed to be notarized, and Judge Ellsworth’s clerk stamped the packet without comment.
Rachel called Emma fifteen minutes later.
“It’s in.”
“All of it?”
“All of it. The preliminary hearing is a week from Wednesday, and Sunset Conch Holdings’ attorney already has a copy. Nobody can claim they weren’t notified.”
Emma sat back in the chair on her patio at Winslow’s. “So the cottage is safe?”
“For now, yes. The sale can’t quietly go forward while this is in front of the court, but I don’t want you thinking we’re finished.
Arthur can fight the will, and I expect him to.
There’ll be paperwork, depositions and probably more than one hearing.
If he pushes it far enough, there could be a trial. ”
Emma looked toward the palms beyond the garden wall. She had known this wasn’t going to end with one trip to Miami, but hearing Rachel say it made the next few weeks feel suddenly real.
“How long do you think I need to stay?”
“I can’t give you an exact answer, but I wouldn’t plan on going back to Chicago next week.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I didn’t think so.” Rachel paused. “There’s something else. I pulled the Miami-Dade probate file from your grandmother’s estate over the weekend. Arthur’s filings, the inventory, what was distributed to him. There’s more there than I expected.”
Emma straightened. “More how?”
“Nothing that changes what we know about the cottage. It has to do with the rest of what Arthur received from Gloria’s estate, and I want to go through it carefully before I say too much. Come to my office Friday and I’ll show you.”
“How worried should I be?”
“I don’t know yet, and that’s why I don’t want to speculate over the phone.”
“All right. Friday.”
“Good. Now we need to talk about Chicago.”
“I know.”
“I’m not your career adviser, but you’ve got a hearing next week and depositions coming after that. This case is going to want your attention on a schedule neither of us controls. You can’t keep telling your firm you’ll be back in a few days.”
“I know that too.”
“So call them.”
Emma looked at the phone in her hand. “I will.”
“Today.”
Emma smiled despite herself. “You and Rebecca would get along very well.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
After they hung up, Emma stayed on the patio for another few minutes before calling Frank Reyes.
Frank had been the managing partner at Ashcroft & Payne for eight years, and Emma had worked with him on and off since her second year at the firm. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, Emma.”
“Hi, Frank. Do you have a few minutes?”
“For you, yes.”
She had rehearsed what she was going to say twice before making the call, but when the time came, she kept it simple.
The family matter she’d come to Florida to handle had become more complicated than she expected.
There was now a legal dispute that required her to remain in Key West, and she needed a formal leave of absence. Two months at least, maybe longer.
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is this one of those situations where a lawyer has told you not to say much?”
“Some of it.”
“All right.” He paused. “Emma, you’ve been here twelve years. I can’t remember the last time you took a day you didn’t have coming to you, and I’m fairly certain you answered email on most of those days anyway. If you need two months, take two months.”
Emma hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself until then.
“Marcy can handle the day-to-day work on your accounts, and Greg can take Brookfield. Your position will be here when you come back, along with your office, your parking space and that plant on your windowsill that I’m pretty sure has been dead since February.”
“It’s not dead.”
“Then it’s deeply unhappy.”
Emma laughed.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“One thing.”
“Yes?”
“When you come back, I want to hear what happened. Not in a managing partner way. We’ve been friends too long for that. And if you need anything from us while you’re down there, legal or otherwise, call me.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Good luck, Emma.”
“Thank you.”
She ended the call and left the phone on the table.
Twelve years at Ashcroft & Payne. Twelve years of meetings scheduled months in advance, late nights she barely questioned and weekends that disappeared because a client needed something Monday morning. She had just told the managing partner she wouldn’t be there for at least two months.
Emma waited for panic to come.
It didn’t.
She called Priya next.
“Finally,” Priya said.
Emma laughed. “That’s not a very supportive thing to say to someone who just made a terrifying decision.”
“I am being supportive. I’ve been waiting years for you to do something that interrupts your five-year plan.”
“I don’t have a five-year plan.”
“You have a twelve-year plan. It’s called Ashcroft & Payne.”
“Could you just tell me you’re proud of me?”
“I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’m still saying finally.”
Emma smiled and tucked one leg beneath her on the chair.
Two days ago, she had been sitting at Gloria’s kitchen table reading a letter that had broken something open inside her.
Yesterday she’d driven to Miami and come home with her grandmother’s ring, a photograph of her father and a notebook she hadn’t been ready to read yet.
Now she had taken two months away from a job that, until a week ago, she would have sworn couldn’t function without her.
The strange part was that she felt fine.
Better than fine, maybe, although she wasn’t ready to say that out loud.
After she hung up with Priya, Emma called the front desk and asked Marisol whether the long-stay bungalow she’d mentioned was still available.
“It is.”
“I’ll take it for a month. Maybe longer.”
“I knew you would.”
“You did not.”
“I did, but I’m gracious enough not to make a thing of it. I’ll have Ramon help move your bags at three.”
“Thank you.”
Emma put down the phone and stayed on the patio.
For the next hour, she didn’t make a list. She didn’t answer email or open her laptop, and she didn’t try to figure out what she was supposed to accomplish before lunch.
She sat with her bare feet on the warm tile and listened to the palms move above her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had done nothing without feeling guilty about it.
By six o’clock, Margarita Max’s was busy without being crowded. Lloyd was in his usual place, two tables near the window were occupied and Joey sat in the corner tuning his guitar.
Tess glanced at the screen door for the third time in five minutes.
“She’s late.”
Leah looked at her. “She isn’t scheduled.”
“She’s a regular now. Regulars have schedules whether they know it or not.”
“That is not a rule.”
“It is here. She’s usually in by six-fifteen.”
“It’s six-oh-five.”
“I’m giving her ten minutes.”
Leah went back to wiping the bar.
Tess watched her. “You know something.”
“Do I?”
“You’ve got your Boston face on.”
“I don’t have a Boston face.”
“You absolutely do. It’s the face you make when you know something and don’t want me to know you know it.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re wiping a counter that was already clean.”
Leah set the rag down. “What do you want, Tess?”
“Did you hear the way Emma said his name the other night?”
“Whose name?”
“Kelleher.”
Leah stared at her.
“She says it differently,” Tess continued. “Not the way she says Rachel or Samantha or Arthur. Different.”
“That’s what you’re basing this on?”
“It’s enough.”
From the far end of the bar, Lloyd said, “Kelleher.”
Both women turned.
“Lloyd, you’ve had your back to us for an hour,” Tess said. “How are you listening to this?”
“I’ve been sitting on this stool forty-six years. My ears still work.”
Leah sighed. “Do you know Jake?”
“Never met him.” Lloyd lifted his beer. “Good name, though. Sounds like a man who knows how to fix things.”
“Nobody said he fixes things.”
“Emma did. Twice.”
Tess pointed at him. “See?”
“See what?” Leah asked.
“She likes him.”
“So?”
“So she’s supposed to be going back to Chicago.”
Leah looked at the door again before she could stop herself.
Tess caught it. “You’re worried too.”
“I’m worried she’ll talk herself into leaving because going back is easier than figuring out why she might want to stay.”
Tess smiled slowly.
“Oh, don’t start. And don’t tell me you learned that from a romance novel.”
“Maybe you should read more of them.”
“I read romance novels,” Lloyd said.
This time both sisters turned all the way around.
“You?” Leah asked. “I’ve never seen you read a book in here.”
Lloyd put down his beer. “Leah, just because I spend a fair amount of time at this bar does not mean I don’t have a life when I leave it.”
She looked at him for a second. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Accepted.”
Tess leaned closer to Leah. “So what are we going to do?”
“About Emma and Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
Tess frowned.
“We are not in the matchmaking business,” Leah said. “We own a bar. It took us enough failed ideas to finally find something we’re good at, and I’m not adding romantic interference to the business plan.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a business plan.”
“You were thinking one.”
“I was thinking maybe we could help.”
“They can figure it out themselves.”
Tess nodded, although not convincingly.
Leah reached over and straightened her sister’s collar, which didn’t need straightening, and went to check on a table.
Joey began playing something slow from the corner. Leah glanced at him and wondered how much he’d heard. Joey had always been better at listening than people gave him credit for.
The screen door banged at six-eleven.
Emma walked in, waved and passed the table by the window without stopping. Instead, she took an empty stool at the bar.
Tess looked at the clock. “Close enough.”
Emma smiled. “Close enough for what?”
“Nothing. You didn’t take your table.”