Wash Read Free Page A

I’d
finally summoned the courage to hear the reading of her will.
Losing her to cancer was like having my heart ripped out. She’d
always been such a strong, guiding, domineering force in my life.
Sure, she always criticized my friends, choices, and lifestyle, and
she totally controlled my dad. She always nagged me for everything
she found inappropriate, which was everything from fast food to a
minor curse word to a skirt above the knees. In fact, she found
fault with me no matter what I did, but I didn’t care. She was my
mother, a damn good one, and I loved her for it. Beneath that hard
exterior of hers, I knew she always had my best interests in mind,
and even during her hard-fought battle with that cruel disease,
she’d tried to look out for me.  
    A tear slipped down my face, like the
raindrops on the windowpane, as I met my lawyer’s gaze. “Can we
please get started? Being here is just making all of this more
painful.”
    It was seven p.m., and I’d spent the
better part of the day taking high-fashion photos of glamorous
models in designer gowns. I still had to review the pictures and
write up the article. As a fashion journalist and photographer, I
always seemed to have to take work home with me. Honestly, after
the day I’d had, I just wanted to take a hot shower and curl up
with a good book and an even better glass of wine—anything to take
my mind off the pain and loneliness of having yet another precious
person ripped out of my life. After her death, I’d cried every
night and even at work in the bathroom. In the midst of those
emotional meltdowns, I felt the world crashing all around
me.
    My attorney looked down at his watch.
“He’s late.”
    “ Who’s late?” I
inquired.
    “ Your mother left very
specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he
said.
    I hoped he’d give me a little clue
about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained
secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer
for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there
was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could
tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good.
    “ Please tell me what’s
going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate
surprises.”
    Lifting a brow, he recited
robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms
of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to
mention his name.”
    “ But who else would she
include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives
have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was
the only one left.”
    He picked up a file and smiled a grin
that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a
while longer.”
    My mind raced with questions. I was
really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two
years earlier from a heart attack, and I had no siblings. My mother
had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a
small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d
brought in an outsider.
    Mr. Shelby looked at me. “You may want
to check your face. It seems your mascara is running.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Well, excuse me for
crying. This is very difficult for me.”
    “ That’s understandable,” he
said softly, sounding surprisingly human and handing me a
tissue.
    I pulled out my compact and stared in
the little round mirror at my bloodshot hazel eyes. I looked so
tired and beat. I used the tissue to wipe the blackish-gray rivers
from my cheeks and to touch up my raccoon eyes with the Samsonites
under them, then fixed the long brown strands of hair that had
insisted on falling out of my French braid. Fortunately, my
clothing had stayed pretty much intact; I’d opted for a
long-sleeved, covered placket blouse tucked neatly into fashionable
black slacks.
    A knock on the door made me glance up,
eager to see who we’d been waiting for.
    “ Come in,” the