“Is there a better time for you?”
“Not really. I have to work all day.” And his response was as rude as it was intriguing.
“Not after tomorrow you won’t.”
And so, to continue my trend of self-destructive behavior, I blew off work to be there. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to go back to Wisconsin and was trying to force the issue. Because without a day job or a dream job, I would have no other choice.
As I drove to Beverly Hills the next morning in the pissing-down rain, I tried to imagine how I came to be named in Louisa’s will. Despite the lawyer’s cryptic comment, I didn’t for a second think she had left me anything significant. My best guess was that she had bequeathed me some memorabilia—probably that photo of her with Barbra Streisand, since I’d shamelessly coveted it. As for how I wound up in her will two days after meeting her, I rationalized that she was just one of those people who, when they decide to do something, do it right away. My dad was like that. Whenever my mom said, “We really should （clean the gutters, pay off the mortgage, trim that beard），” he’d do it immediately. He wasn’t a list guy. He was a pick-up-the-phone-and-take-care-of-it-now guy. I figured Louisa was, too. I imagined Louisa calling or emailing her lawyer right after we met to do this one quick thing before she forgot. That was the only scenario that made sense—certainly more sense than what actually happened.
I tried to look respectable in my tweed suit （OK, my only suit） with my hair in a high bun. I knew Nathan was going to be there, so I put on lipstick and a tiny dab of perfume to try to expedite the clearing of that smoke. As I fought back nervous anticipation about seeing him again, I couldn’t help but wonder: If I hadn’t met Nathan, would I have said yes to Jordan? Did my guardian angels put him in my path so I would let Jordan go? Or did the devil conjure him to keep me unhappy forever? One thing was for certain: Mom was right. Jordan deserved someone who was head over heels for him, and that wasn’t me. Jordan was a great guy, but in my heart I knew his appeal was that he was stable, predictable, someone who could keep me safe. As I’ve said, and for better and for worse, I’ve never been one to play it safe. I wanted the exhilaration that comes from taking great big risks both in life and in love, even if that meant being the only one of my friends who turned thirty broke and alone.
The drive from the Valley to Beverly Hills took about forty minutes. I didn’t want to park underground because the lawyer’s building was super fancy and I knew it would be rudely expensive. So I drove around the block, hoping to find a meter within walking distance. After two full loops it was clear I was not going to get lucky. Plus it was raining like a monsoon and I didn’t have a raincoat （no one in LA did）， so I sucked it up and parked in the garage, even though I knew it was going to cost me two hours’ pay in a week when I was already down a shift. My skirt had somehow gotten spun around as I was driving, so I readjusted it in the vestibule, then rode the elevator to the fourth floor, which Springer, Cohen, Keele, Dail, and Redding shared with another law firm with an even longer name.
“Are you here for the Louisa Lake George reading?” a receptionist asked me. I nodded and she pointed me toward a conference room. I had expected it to be overflowing with adoring friends and family, so was surprised to see only six people there: Nathan, Louisa’s lawyer, and four other people who I presumed were family members.
“Here, take my seat,” the lawyer said as he vacated the chair next to Nathan. I knew he was the lawyer because I recognized his snooty accent. He wore pretentious Oliver Peoples Gregory Peck eyeglasses （all the rage） and a slim-fitting Armani suit to complete his I’m-better-than-you vibe.
Nathan was looking incredibly handsome in his dark suit, which of course made me want to cry. Luckily, we were at a will reading, and I wasn’t the only one with shiny eyes. As I approached, he stood and pulled out my chair, and for a moment we were nose to nose.
“Hi, Nathan,” I said simply, respecting the circumstances with a solemn nod.
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t say it in a mean way, and I saw no reason not to answer him honestly.
“I have no idea.”
“Good morning, everyone,” the lawyer said. “If you are in this room, you are named in Louisa’s will. I want to state for the record that I have verified that this document is authentic, and that the directives herein are legally binding.”
The curly-haired guy across the table （her son, perhaps?） was staring at me, so I kept my head held high and my eyes glued to the lawyer like I’d been invited, which of course I had been.