by CeeCee James
“Well, I don’t know about that.” Her wrinkled cheeks pinkened. “Seems to me like age has made me shorter.”
“But still gorgeous as ever.” Jason smiled.
“Oh, you’re a charmer. Come in, come in. Tell me everything that’s happened.” She hurried ahead of him up the concrete stoop to her front door. The screen door squeaked as she pulled it open. He followed, his head swiveling to take in the view of his grandparents’ house from her yard.
The interior of her house was just as he remembered. Jason stopped for moment, almost confused, as the musty scent of her home overwhelmed him with memories. He couldn’t put his finger on the smell, somewhere between an old garage and the Goodwill store. Still, it yanked him immediately back to his childhood when Grandma would send him to mow Delores’s yard, and she would always have a plate of cookies waiting.
“My goodness,” Delores chattered to herself in the kitchen. There was noise of cupboards opening and dishes rattling. “After all these years, Jason is finally home.” She came out with a steaming mug and a plate of vanilla sandwich cookies. “I couldn’t find any cocoa, but here’s some Earl Grey tea.”
Jason took the offered cup with a nod and glanced down at the water. Bits of tea leaves floated as the string snaked out of the cup and down the side. “Thank you, Aunt Delores. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, no trouble.” Despite the vigorous nod of her head, her short steely grey hair remained frozen in place like a bike helmet. “Let's go sit. My goodness! We’ll use the good living room.” She whispered this conspiratorially as she led the way through the cluttered hallway to her formal living room.
Jason glanced around as he entered through the doorway. He’d never been in the room before.
“Sit. Sit.” She indicated the far couch.
Jason stepped carefully along the plastic carpet protector running the length of the carpet, before sitting on the velour couch.
“So.” Delores sat across from him, primly holding her teacup with a tiny hand outlined with a roadmap of raised veins. “Tell me everything that’s happened. The last time I saw you was right after the real estate agent put the For Sale sign in the front yard. Oh, she was a nasty lady.” She blew on her tea, and continued. “You said you were leaving for your uncle’s home. I’d expected to meet him. Then ‘Poof!’ you just disappeared. Whatever happened to you?”
He took a sip of his tea, then set the cup down with a grimace, picking a leaf off of his tongue. “Nothing much. Went and stayed with Uncle John for a few years, and now I’m back.” The lie fell out of his mouth easily, almost like the truth. There’d never been an uncle, but there was no way he was going to rehash what actually happened.
“Oh, well, my dear boy. You’ve missed a lot. The neighborhood has really changed.” She sighed and looked away morosely. “The Stasinski’s family moved nearly two years ago. You should see the new family that took over that house. Completely ruined the yard!”
Jason made an appropriate sympathetic noise.
“I know. It’s just terrible,” she continued. “And then Sandy got married.”
His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “Sandy?”
“You remember her. The big girl that used to manage the pet store.”
“Big girl?”
“Yes. Well, she’s right skinny now from running up and down that there mountain.” She jabbed a finger out the window to indicate the sole mountain in the area, the pride and joy of the town.
Jason nodded, hoping he seemed suitably impressed. “Wow, well that’s great. Maybe I’ll bump into her now that I’m back.”
“I hope you do. She has six kids—two sets of twins, if you can believe. Her husband’s a nice young man, but if you’d stayed they could have all been yours.”
Jason choked on his tea and immediately coughed.
“Are you okay?” Concerned, she shifted forward to the edge of her seat.
He waved her off with a thumbs-up sign.
“Well,” she said, settling back in the wing chair. “I’m sure I can find you some nice young lady. I think Violet’s granddaughter.… No? Oh, that’s too bad. I’m just so glad you’re here now. Although it would have been nice if you had come back sooner.”
He frowned. “Why’s that, Aunt Delores?”
“People were looking for you! Trying to track you down for years. They’ve all but given up now.” She shrugged her bony shoulders and readjusted the striped afghan over her knees.
Jason felt a chill run down his back. “Who was looking for me?”
“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.
15
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. I hate the city. He gritted his teeth 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 skidded to a stop, trying to blend in as he walked through the lobby to the elevator. Repeatedly, he punched the button 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 panel
ing 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
16
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 with out Jason. 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 cursing; 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 hole that’s swallowing 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. She hovered there for a second, 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.
In fact, the last guy I was with was Dylan. Oh my gosh, what have I done?
She shook her head. He’s a friend, just a friend.
“Hanging with a friend is different than a date,” she muttered, then promptly rolled her eyes for talking to herself again. Talking to myself 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. Great. 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 do
or 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.”