Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He rose and reached out a hand to her. Taking it, she gave him a firm shake then let him settle his considerable bulk behind his desk.
“Thank you for coming, Dr. Roman. Sorry, I should have met you outside the office.”
“Here’s fine.” She barely used her title and it seemed this man was determined to do so.
He nodded and bent to open a drawer. The screech of metal had her wincing as the sound carried on for a full ten seconds.
“These old desks. She and I have been through a lot, can’t bear to get rid of her.”
It took a lot to keep the comments inside. Surely this man could have gotten a bit bigger space for his office.
“Anyway. Let’s get to it. I’m sure you have other places to be.” He grinned. “To be young again.”
Her number one priority was to get out of Rock Falls without seeing Mitchell Anderson. Right? That was still the main objective.
Gah, I don’t know anymore.
Mr. Garfield cleared his throat and flipped open the folder he’d dragged from the drawer. “Mr. Jones has bequeathed to you, Hope Roman, one million dollars.”
Her legs wobbled and she reached for the chair she’d been determined to ignore previously. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”
Surely I misheard. I’m a millionaire? That can’t be right.
“Mr. Jones had acquired quite a nice nest egg when he passed. As he thought of you as his daughter, he wanted you to be taken care of. He had no other children.” He took a breath. “You’ve already met the one stipulation provided in his will.”
“Which was?”
“Go to his funeral.”
Tears burned her eyes. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“There is something else.”
Hope took a few more breaths. “What?”
“He wants you to follow your heart. To stop letting the past and your fears keep you from doing so.” A few pages flipped. “Here, he wrote you a letter.”
Staring at the sealed envelope Mr. Garfield held out to her, she couldn’t bring herself to take it.
“Dr. Roman?” He gestured with the letter once more.
She swallowed and reached out her hand—her shaking hand—to brush her fingers over the cream envelope. Then she took it and, without opening it, slipped it into her bag, which rested on her lap.
He cleared his throat and clasped his hands before him. “I know the funeral was a hard time for those of us who knew him, but please read the letter. There are instructions in there as far as your inheritance. So, while I did open it to put in the additional instructions, please rest assured I didn’t read the letter he wrote you.”
“Never crossed my mind you’d be less than professional, Mr. Garfield.”
His smile reminded her a bit of Mr. Karl Jones’s smile.
“I worry.” He gestured about the small space with his hand. “My space doesn’t exactly give off a vibe which boasts of how competent I am at my job.”
“You have an office. My guess is you typically go to your clients or meet in a larger space if there are multiple people. Karl wouldn’t have stayed with you, Mr. Garfield, had he not trusted you.”
He rose, his belly brushing over some of the items stacked on his desk. Hope took her cue from him. Time for her to head out.
“He spoke so highly of you, Hope, and I’m honored to have been able to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Struggling to not give her tears freedom, she shook his hand again and slipped out the door, barely pausing to say goodbye to the woman at the desk. Outside, the warm sun shone down and she took several fortifying breaths before she managed to heave away from the building wall and walk down the sidewalk.
Standing before a business that was called TC’s Sandwiches, she walked in and headed to the counter, all the while pulling out her phone to text João, seeing if he wanted to eat before they left.
She ordered a turkey and avocado club with a large Coke. When it arrived, she carried it along with her chips out to a circular wrought-iron table. The scrollwork was beautiful and the chairs matched the table. Even the feet had intricate swirls on them.
Hope hated that she gazed around, part of her wishing that Mitchell would stride into view, allowing her to see him once more. Roughly shoving that desire into the trash, she began a mantra of He wasn’t ever permanent in my life.
All well and good in theory. However, it didn’t stop the wishing.
She picked up her sandwich and took a healthy bite, her moan low and appreciative. This was delicious—the avocado was sliced at the perfect thickness and the hearty bread had been toasted lightly, giving her a slight crunch. Halfway through the sandwich, she’d popped in some chips when João waved at her and jogged inside.