I cough. “What?”
“Three and a half million,” he repeats calmly. He peers at me over the top rims of his glasses. “Would that solve your problems?”
“Geez, I’d say so.” I laugh uneasily. “What, did you buy me a lottery ticket for Christmas or something?”
“No,” he replies. “That happens to be the amount that Jacob Levy had in savings and various investments. When you contacted me about the arrangements for his funeral last month, do you remember me getting in touch with his attorney in New York? The one whose name was on his property documents?”
“Of course,” I murmur. Although Jacob had never remarried and didn’t have any relatives that we knew of, I knew we had to notify someone of his death, particularly if we planned to bury him here on the Cape. Gavin had helped me track down an attorney listed in some of his old records.
“Well, it just so happens that Jacob Levy’s will leaves everything to your grandmother, or to her direct descendants,” Thom continues. “He apparently always believed she had lived and that he’d find her. That’s what his attorney said.”
“Wait, so . . .” My voice trails off as I try to piece together what he’s telling me.
“You’re the next direct descendant of Rose Durand McKenna, who we now, of course, know was initially Rose Picard,” Thom goes on. “Jacob’s estate is yours.”
“Wait,” I say again, struggling to understand. “You’re telling me Jacob had three and a half million dollars?”
Thom nods. “And now I’m telling you that you have three and a half million. After a lot of paperwork, of course.” He peers at the papers again. “It seems that after he came to the United States, he worked his way up from being a busboy in a hotel kitchen, to managing a hotel, to eventually becoming a partial investor in a hotel. That’s what his lawyer explained. Apparently, he was a millionaire by 1975 and started a charity for Holocaust survivors at that point. He turned that first hotel into seven successful properties, and he sold his shares three years ago. Part of his fortune is going into an annuity to fund the charity. The remainder—three and a half million—has been earmarked for you.”
“But he never said anything,” I say.
Thom shrugs. “His attorney said he was very modest. Always lived well below his means. Used his money to hire private detectives to try to find your grandmother. But he never knew the assumed name she’d taken on. He was never able to find her.”
“My God,” I murmur. The news is still sinking in.
Thom nods. “There’s more,” he says. “Your grandmother also leaves behind a small estate. Of course the assisted living home drained most of her funds, as you know, but there’s a little left. About seventy-five thousand after everything. Enough to pay off the remainder of the loan for your mother’s house.”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable,” I murmur.
“And,” Thom adds. “There’s a letter. Your grandmother sent it to me back in September. The letter’s sealed,” he continues. “In the note your grandmother sent to me, she asked me to give it to you on New Year’s Eve at the end of the year she died.”
The lump in my throat is preventing me from replying. I blink back tears as Thom slides a narrow envelope across the desk to me.
“Do you know what it says?” I ask after I find my voice.
Thom shakes his head. “Why don’t you head home and read it? I just need your signature on a few things here, and I’ll get your grandmother’s money routed into your account. Jacob Levy’s attorney is already working to get his money to you too. You should have it soon. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Matt at the bank, if you want me to.”
I nod. “Let him know I’m buying the bakery outright,” I say. “No more payments to the bank. I want it to belong to my family forever.”
“Ten-four,” Thom says. He pauses. “Hope?” he asks tentatively.
“Yeah?”
He sighs and looks out the window. “Your mom would be proud of you, you know.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s true,” I say. “I was always a disappointment to her. I think she wished she’d never had me.”
I’ve never said those words before, and I’m not sure why I’m saying them now, to Thom Evans.
“That’s not true, Hope,” Thom says softly. “Your mom was a tough woman to deal with. You know that. But you were the center of her life, whether you knew it or not.”