“Looks good,” he said. “I’m heading to the hardware store later to get a few things to help with the…” What to call it? Packing up Gamma’s life and tidying it up so other people would want to live beneath this roof?
“Move?” she suggested.
“Yeah. That. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“I’d love some cinnamon rolls. There’s a little bakery downtown. It’s one of the things I’ll miss when I move to New Mexico.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
Gamma thought for a moment. Even in the morning, she was fabulous—with fake eyelashes, purple-red lipstick, and slippers with feathers on the front. “The changing seasons, I suppose. But not the snow.”
“Not your grandson, either, it seems.” He pretended to sulk, knowing it amused her.
“You’re not a thing. Of course I’ll miss you. Once I’m settled, visit me, or I’ll look up ‘how to guilt my grandson’ on the interweb. Not my forte, but I learn fast.”
“I’d rather you didn’t acquire that skill. Cinnamon rolls then. I’ll get those and the stuff I need to wrap up here. When are you leaving?”
“Two weeks,” she said. “Are you sure it’s not too much, asking you to finish this?”
Eli smiled and got up to hug her. “Not at all. It’s the least I can do, what with you raising me as a single grandma and all.”
He had vague recollections that there had been big upheaval in Gamma’s life. She’d had a wife who couldn’t accept it when Gamma transitioned, so they divorced. And Gamma changed…basically everything, around the time that Eli’s parents died. She’d had so much on her plate, wrestling with her own identity, but she never hesitated to take Eli, and she’d loved him so much and taught him how important it was to accept everyone as they were.
He was…incredibly grateful to her. Gamma was the most precious person to him, and he sort of hated that she was going to New Mexico because they’d never lived this far apart before. Even when he’d relocated for college, he’d had the security of knowing they were only a short plane ride or a reasonable drive away.
But damned if he would clip Gamma’s wings. She deserved to spread them and fly and find a partner if she wanted. He knew she was lonely and that she’d make someone tremendously happy if they were lucky enough to be loved by her.
Like I was. Like I am. Damn, am I tearing up?
He blinked away the emotions and focused on his breakfast. Hopefully, he wouldn’t lose it over breaking the ritual of checking Iris’s socials. Habit. Habit sounded less compulsive.
A few hours later, as he stepped out of the hardware store, it seemed like the universe was screwing with him. He dropped the two bags he was carrying. Thank God he hadn’t bought the cinnamon rolls yet.
There she was, in the flesh. Iris Collins. He’d recognize her freaking anywhere.
Something else a stalker would say.
And she was headed into a law office across the street.
Maybe this was a sign. I ought to thank her. That’s why our paths crossed, why it feels like there’s unfinished business. I never told her how much that meant to me back in the day.
I need to acknowledge my appreciation and move on. Eli touched the charm bracelet in his pocket that he carried like a talisman. Right?
Right.
CHAPTER THREE
The law office was decorated in brown and beige, and the chair was vinyl.
Whenever Iris moved, it let out an embarrassing squeak. The receptionist had already given her several disapproving looks; she was a middle-aged white woman with carefully permed brunette hair and an ornate manicure, and she honestly was wearing the hell out of that pink pantsuit, even if she vibed like she should be selling cosmetics.
“Mr. Davis will see you now.”
Taking a breath to steady herself, Iris went down the hall and went into the first office, clearly marked with a nameplate that read Carl Davis, attorney at law. He greeted her with a squishy, damp handshake and a smile that worried her vaguely, as if he was about to ask her to sign something she didn’t understand. He was an avuncular man, balding and clad in a gray suit that bagged in the wrong places.
“Come, sit down. Would you like coffee?” When Iris shook her head, he offered with a hopeful expression, “Tea?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“First, let me say that I’m sorry for your loss. Your aunt was quite a woman.”
It didn’t seem worth correcting him on the “great” part, so she merely nodded. “Did you know her well?”
“Unfortunately not. We met near the end of her life, and I helped get her affairs in order. She seemed to know…” He paused delicately.
“That her time was coming to an end?”
“Precisely. Most of the details are resolved now, as we’ve completed inventory and valuation and paid off all outstanding creditors. What remains to you will be disbursed…”
Iris listened as Mr. Davis explained everything in simple terms, letting her know that it would probably take a couple more months to get her money. He went on, “There’s also a 1988 Chevy Impala, but it needs repairs. In the will, Ms. Van Doren specified that it’s yours to do with as you please.”
Hopefully, her great-aunt wouldn’t be hurt by this decision. “I already have a car, and I can’t afford to fix hers. Can we sell it?”
The attorney nodded briskly. “We may be able to find a collector. If not, there will be someone who needs it for parts. In that scenario, it won’t bring in much cash, but—”
“That’s fine.” Somehow she refrained from saying, “Anything helps,” because she didn’t want Mr. Davis knowing that she was broke and desperate.
Adjusting his glasses, he checked his files. “I also have questions about a few more items in the house, particularly the ceramic angel collection.”
“I’ll keep it,” she said at once.
That was sheer instinct. It had been important to Gertie, and Iris couldn’t bring herself to liquidate it. Not now, anyway. She was still getting used to the idea of inheriting anything. How could she be heartless right from the jump?
“Understood. Then there are just some documents to sign…”
All told, the meeting took less than an hour, and the attorney provided all the documentation she needed to turn the power on in her name. None of this solved her immediate cash flow problem, but hopefully, Frederic would be chill. While she understood that he needed the money too, she couldn’t sell enough plasma to pay him off any sooner. She had been doing that to pay down her credit card, but the donations didn’t cover rent, her phone bill, food, or her share of the utilities.
She wrapped things up and said, “Contact me if you need anything to make the process go smoother.”
“I’ll be in touch as needed. Take care.” Mr. Davis didn’t walk her out.
Soon she found herself on the sidewalk again with people going about their day, running errands in the cute and bustling downtown district in St. Claire. Iris cast a longing look at a bakery across the square, but she talked herself out of spending the money. Learning to bake would be more sensible. She thought a man across the street was looking at her, but then he turned and hurried in the opposite direction, so maybe not.