Out of the Wreckage

by CeeCee James

  “One of them was a nice-looking man. He always wore the smartest suit. He used to come by once a month for a while.” She smiled and took another sip.

  “Who was he?”

  “He always complimented my flowers too. Said I had such a green thumb!” Her eyes brightened at the memory.

  “Aunt Delores,” Jason chewed on his cheek in an attempt to control his impatience. “What was his name?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you expect me to remember that?” She looked at him again, her eyes rheumy. His heart dropped, and he felt a stab of sadness. She had gotten so old. The skin on her face and arms was crinkled like tissue paper. It was no wonder she couldn’t remember.

  “Don’t be staring at me like I’ve gone dotty.” She set her cup down on the end table next to her. “I’ve got his card around here somewhere.”

  With a creak, she stood and wandered back into the kitchen. Jason heard the drawers sliding in and out, along with her mumbling, “Now where did I put that blasted thing?”

  After a few minutes she let out a triumphant “Aha!” and came weaving back into the room, holding the card in the air between two trembling fingers like an Olympic torch. “I’ve found it. Here it is, young man.”

  Jason gingerly took the worn card from her, dog-eared on the corners. He squinted to read the faded typing, indecipherable now.

  But underneath it was a handwritten phone number.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Autumn

  The address on the card directed him to a lawyer’s office located in downtown Portland. Jason drove up and down the street searching for a spot to park his beat-up truck. Cars lined the street, bumper to bumper. He fumed when a yellow Beetle cut him off, making him run a red light.

  Finally, he spotted a sign advertising a parking garage, and spun the wheel hard to make the narrow turn. Unconsciously, he ducked his head at the low ceiling. Every spot was marked compact and filled with cars parked so tight that they appeared to have been shoehorned in.

  He glanced at the time on his phone and hit the steering wheel, forced to continue up the ramp. Finally, a vacant space appeared and he backed the truck in. Cursing at the tight fit, he eased the door open and squeezed his way out.

  Jason didn’t bother to lock the truck. The cab was filled with candy wrappers and stray French fries. Anyone wanting to loot it was welcome to whatever they found.

  He hurried down the stairs to the street level, rechecking the time. His mouth tightened into a thin line of annoyance. Just three minutes until the appointment.

  Jason sprinted down the sidewalk, heading for the Centennial building ahead. As he dashed up the stairs, his eye caught a brass sign bolted to the front of the brick building that announced it was built in the 1880s. He grabbed the brass handle and yanked the glass door open.

  Inside, soft music greeted him, along with the scent from an enormous white floral arrangement spilling over a marble pedestal. He walked through the lobby to the elevator and punched the button repeatedly for the sixth floor.

  Taking a deep breath, he focused on calming his rapid heartbeat. Relax, this is it. He smoothed his dark hair and tucked in the back of his oxford shirt.

  The elevator dinged. He stepped on, checking the time once again. Then he wiped his sweaty hands along his jeans. Breathe, just breathe.

  Upstairs, the quiet law office was decorated with walnut paneling and plush carpeting. A middle-aged receptionist wore a telephone headset, her blonde hair in a chignon. She greeted him with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon. What can I help you with?”

  “Hi. Eleven o’clock appointment?” Jason walked over to her desk and began drumming his fingers on the counter. Her eye flickered with disapproval. “I’m here to see James Ashbach.”

  She glanced at the computer monitor and gestured to one of the black leather couches along the wall. “Please have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  The receptionist whispered into the phone, a low murmur he was unable to make out. Jason strode over to the far wall and studied a large painting that hung there. What is this? Some type of blue squiggles and red squares encased in a thick black walnut frame. He snorted. I could paint this. He ran his finger along the beveled edge of the frame. But this frame is a true piece of art.

  The expansive twin doors swung open behind him. Jason turned to see a man in his late sixties, wearing a dark tailored business suit, step out of the office. He stood tall, despite his age. His sparse grey hair was combed neatly to cover the top of his domed head.

  “Jason Landon?” The lawyer’s voice held a resonance of rich timber. “Welcome. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Jason hesitated then stepped forward. He yanked his hand out of his pocket and stuck it out. The lawyer firmly shook it.

  “Come in,” James Ashbach said, ushering Jason into the office. He followed behind, his steps muffled by the thick woolen carpet.

  “Well,” the lawyer began as he shut the heavy door. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been searching for you for quite some time.”

  Jason raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Where are my manners? Sit! Would you like something to drink?” The lawyer motioned towards a crystal decanter on the walnut sideboard.

  Jason shook his head and sat in a red leather recliner.

  “So, like I said, we’ve been searching for you for some time now. You’ve been quite elusive. Not running from the law, are you?” He winked.

  Jason, feeling nonplussed, shook his head.

  “Ahh, well. It finally came to a point where we had to hire a private investigator to track you down.” The lawyer sat in his leather chair and peaked his fingertips together on his desk. “Doing nicely for yourself, I see. A house on the lake in Washington?”

  Jason’s eyes darted around the room suspiciously. “I didn’t know you were looking for me.”

  The lawyer paused. “No? Aren’t you here because of the letter? We sent a letter to your house.”

  Jason shrugged his shoulders. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Actually, I haven’t been home for a while. I guess you could say I’m on sort of a walk-about. Ended up stopping by an old family friend who happened to have your business card on hand. I guess you left it with her a few years back.”

  “Ahh, the rose lady. She did have quite the green thumb.” A smile broke out across the lawyer’s face. “Well now, isn’t this interesting. Some may even call it serendipity.”

  “So what’s this about?”

  “Well son, it’s about your grandparents’ estate. Your grandmother was the sole inheritor of your grandfather’s investments. Over the years they’ve been sold, and we’ve kept the money waiting for you in an account.”

  “Investments?”

  “Yes, your grandfather owned shares in three different companies. Oh, he bought them when they were at ground level. Obviously a gambler. And, well, the gamble paid off. When the businesses were sold, your grandfather’s portion was placed into special accounts.”

  “I’ve never heard anything about this.”

  “Well, your grandmother didn’t touch the money, choosing instead to live on her husband’s pension and life insurance. The money has just been sitting in the account gathering interest.”

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  The lawyer smiled. He reached into his drawer, pulled out an expensive leather bound ledger, and slid it across the desk.

  Jason looked down. His heart almost thumped right out of his chest…

  $6,214,235.26

  Chapter Sixteen

  Autumn

  The Regal Cinema’s huge billboard, in all it’s blinking splendor, could be seen from the highway. Miranda flicked her blinker on and headed for it like a dreaded bulls eye. She turned into the mall-sized lot, the sign above the entrance glowing with white lights highlighting the show times.

  Craning her neck, she finally found a space in the back. “Holy Cow, this place is hopping.” She parked the
car.

  Her phone dinged with a text. —Movie is about to start.

  She rested her head against the seat. I can’t believe I said yes. Why’d I do that? I still feel like half a person. Dr. Phil’s voice rang in her head, “Are you trying to fill an empty void?” Maybe. She went back to her phone and scrolled through old texts. Next to Jason’s name were thirty unanswered messages from her to him. They varied from begging to swearing; all voicing the same thing: I love you, why are you doing this?

  Miranda sniffed and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. How am I supposed to get past this?

  Her phoned buzzed again. “Sheesh, Dylan. Hold your horses,” she muttered, instead typing.—Parking.

  I can’t live like this any more, like I’m filled with an aching maw that’s eating me alive. Dylan’s a friend. If there’s one thing I need right now, it’s a friend.

  It was weird she’d asked to meet Dylan here, rather than letting him pick her up. He’d been insistent but she’d stayed strong. She wasn’t sure why. Was it because she didn’t want the awkwardness of introducing Cassie to him?

  Miranda pulled the visor down and studied her reflection in the mirror. She swiped away at the tear stains and puckered her mouth to apply some pink lip gloss. Out of nowhere, a question boomeranged from her head to her heart: Why do you care if you look nice? Cringing, she quickly blotted it from her thoughts. I have to check, because I always look like a zombie after work. She sucked in a deep breath of air and shoved the visor up. Fine, I don’t care. Miranda opened the door but couldn’t resist, rapidly flipping the mirror back down to check on her hair.

  Her phone dinged again.—Waiting for you at the entrance.

  Miranda texted back.— On my way.

  An uneasy feeling fluttered in her stomach as she stepped out of the Jeep and smoothed down her champagne-colored skirt. She rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms and grabbed a cardigan from the back seat. The cold night air swirled against her exposed legs, making her instantly regretted her choice of clothing. Miranda closed her eyes as she shut the door, heart thumping in raw sorrow. Leaving the Jeep felt like being pulled out of a protective cocoon. She hadn’t been with another guy besides Jason for a long time.

  “Hanging with a friend is different than a date,” she muttered, then promptly rolled her eyes for talking to herself again. I’m a freak. She locked the Jeep’s door and tucked the key into her purse before hurrying to the entrance.

  Dylan bounced on his toes under the blinking marquee lights, his eyes darting about slightly anxious. His dark jeans showed off lean, muscled legs. At the sight of her, he smiled slowly and allowed his gaze to sweep the length of her body. “Wow! You look gorgeous.” His dimples showed and he bent to whisper in her ear, “Hot.”

  Miranda felt her face heat up. No! Stop blushing! There was nothing she could do. I bet my cheeks are blazing like two stop signs right about now. “Don’t say it. I feel like a dork already.” She shrugged into her sweater and held her arms crossed in front of her.

  “Why?”

  “Wearing a skirt when it’s this cold out. I probably look like a walking goose bump.”

  He’d been opening the cinema door when she said this, and stopped to laugh. “You always crack me up. Come on, it’s warmer inside.” He guided her with his hand resting at the small of her back.

  At the ticket window Miranda pulled out her debit card. “One for Mission Impossible,” she spoke into the round speaker.

  “Make that two.” Dylan slid his black Am Ex card through the slot before she had a chance.

  “Dylan! We had a deal.”

  He winked at her mischievously. “You don’t always get your way, you know.” She bit her lip and resisted rolling her eyes.

  Grabbing the proffered tickets he guided her into the lobby. The smell of buttery popcorn filled the air, as the moviegoers crowded into the concession lines.

  “You want some?” she asked, pointing to the five-foot display of a smiling popcorn container sitting on the navy carpet.

  “I thought it made you sick.”

  “I can still get it for you.”

  “It makes me sick too.”

  “Seriously, you are being so difficult.”

  He smiled, revealing his dimples again. “Let’s just go enjoy the movie, okay?”

  Miranda shook her head, hands in the air. “I give up.” He held the theater door open for her and they made their way to the seats towards the middle.

  The movie was as awesome as she’d known it would be. When the closing credits rolled across the screen, Dylan moved to whisper in her ear, “Hang tight. Sometimes they show a sneak peek at the end.” Miranda settled back and tried not to feel awkward sitting there silently as the theater emptied. The screen finally went to black and the aisle guide lights glowed orange. “Not this time I guess.” Dylan stretched out his neck. “Still, what a great movie. Reminds me of the time we saw Furious Four.”

  “Oh yeah.” Miranda had forgotten about that. She ran her finger down the armrest. That night had ended in a kiss. Her cheeks filled with heat. Dylan had been an excellent kisser, slow and sensual.

  He grinned at her like he knew what she was thinking and leaned closer, giving her another strong whiff of his cologne. “You want to go get some ice cream?”

  Ice cream? Miranda considered it for a second. What message was that sending? Frustration rose in her, tight like a spring. I’m sick and tired of having to analyze every little thing, worried I’m going to make the wrong decision. Jason had left her. It was time to move on.

  Besides, it was only ice cream. It wasn’t like she was going to marry the dude. “Yes, I’d love to.”

  Once outside, he took her hand and caressed the side of her palm with his thumb. “Let me drive, okay?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  He closed the passenger door after her and jogged to the driver’s side. “Ready?” he asked her, starting the Audi.

  “Ah, ready for what?” Dairy Queen was less than a minute down the street.

  He revved the engine and stepped on the gas. Out on the highway, Dylan quickly shifted through the gears until Miranda felt sucked back into her seat.

  “Dylan!” She squealed and laughed at the same time, wild and happy.

  “What? You like to go fast? Let’s see what this baby can do.” He floored it.

  “What about ice cream?” Miranda shouted over the roar of the engine.

  “Oh we’re getting it.” His dimple crinkled. “In the next town.”

  She wanted to smack him for tricking her. But the adrenalin rush made her laugh. Car after car flashed by as he shot past like a bullet.

  Miranda felt almost sad when he slowed for the exit. They swooped up the curved ramp, and the engine grumbled as he shifted it down. She could understand why. This car was meant to go fast.

  They pulled into the Dairy Queen and ordered sundaes. Dylan parked the car. Miranda handed him one of the red spoons before taking a bite of her icecream.

  “So, how long do you think you’ll be a sales rep?” Miranda asked.

  Dylan spooned in a mouthful of ice cream. He let it melt a second before he answered. “I’ll stop when I get bored.”

  “What do you think you’ll do next?”

  “Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe travel overseas. My cousin has a business over there. Biggest Lexus dealership in Europe. I could work there, or maybe Dad will let me live off my trust fund. Depends, I guess.”

  “You like working?”

  “It’s kind of part of the requirements of my trust fund. The old man wants to see me put some hours in. He doesn’t want me to have it too cushy.”

  “I like working,” Miranda said, swirling her spoon in her cup.

  “What? No one likes to work.”

  “I mean,” she said, thinking about it. “If I could work less and take more vacations, sure I’d love that. But there is something about working that makes me feel like I’m giving back. I think I’d miss i
t if I stayed at home every day.”

  “What about when you have kids?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. That might be different because the kids would be my job. Technically, I’d still be working.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you want to do when you have kids?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll let my wife decide that. There’s an old rule I intend to live by: Happy wife, happy life.”

  Miranda laughed. “There’s probably some real truth to that.” She leaned her head back against the seat and yawned. “Speaking of work, I’ve got to get back. I’m super tired.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, remember? I worked today.”

  He pouted. “Does that mean I need to take you home?”

  “Yeah. Sorry for being a party pooper.”

  Dylan touched the back of her hand, tracing the veins. “You’re the life of the party. I always enjoy myself when I’m with you. Always have.”

  “Aww.”

  “Remember our walks?”

  Miranda laughed. “Yes! They were so cold! People told me it only rained in Seattle. I wasn’t prepared to freeze. Remember the night the shops were closing but you ran inside anyway, even as the owner yelled to get out? I remember how you grabbed a wool coat off the rack and told the owner he couldn’t close the shop without you buying it. You didn’t even check the price.”

  Dylan smiled.

  “I’m not sure I ever thanked you for that coat.” She looked over then, her heart jumping at the heat in his returning gaze.

  Slowly he moved closer, tipping her face up, and gave her a gentle kiss. His tongue pushed her mouth open and his hand threaded its way through her hair.

  Miranda’s heart thudded in her chest as the rising intensity of the kiss swept through her. Guilt shot through her, and she began to pull away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh.” He kissed her again.

  She drew away once more to catch her breath and closed her eyes. “This is so confusing.”