Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
When my dad died, he left my mom five and half million dollars plus the house, all their cars, and a few hundred shares from True Oil Co. As for me, he left ten million dollars, on top of my two-million-dollar trust fund and double her shares of the company. I was also left with a major stake in the company, in case all else fails.
Dad died a year after I’d received the trust, and only four months prior to my wedding day. My mom has been pretty pissed ever since and she has not let me live it down. It wasn’t my fault daddy had little respect for her. She’d made it that way by being so materialistic and sleeping with every man she could whenever he was away. To this day, I don’t understand why my dad left her anything in his will. All she did was use him, lie to him. But I suppose she produced me, and I was his most prized creation, so he felt he owed her something.
I’d worked hard, unlike my mom. I didn’t sit around judging people or calling them names. I worked. I was now owner of a beautiful tea boutique called Regal Tea Boutique. It’s a high-end tea shop dedicated to the English tea traditions. We offer afternoon tea sessions every day, and we have a serving counter open just in case someone decides to pop in for a tea to-go. So many people think it’s not a real gig, but my business generates hundreds of thousands of dollars. The storefront itself isn’t the cash cow, though. We also have a subscription box featuring monthly tea selections with a combination of chocolate, desserts, and recipes.
And when I’m not working at Regal Tea Boutique, I’m attending business seminars and meetings at True Oil Co., my father’s company. It was part of the requirements in his will, in order for me to inherit the money. Despite me not having interest in the company, he still wanted me to have a hand in it, make sure things ran smoothly. I visit True Oil in Texas once a month and give them three days of my time. I have an accountant I share with Dominic, who keeps all of our books clean.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dominic’s voice catches me off guard, and I realize I’m whisking the eggs a little too hard.
I swing my gaze up and he’s frowning, switching glances from my face to the hard scrambled bowl of eggs. “Nothing. Sorry.” I clear my throat, turning for the stove to heat the frying pan. I need to stop thinking about my mom, the inheritance, all of it.
Dominic sits at the table, scrolling through his phone. I make the eggs, pop some bread into the toaster, and when breakfast is ready, I prepare a plate for both of us and place his in front of him. When I pour juice into his glass, he frowns.
“What?” I ask.
“A little tired of juice. Do we have any coffee?”
“You told me not to get any for a while. You said it’s making you crash too hard.”
He continues a frown. “Tea, then?”
I nod, getting up to start the kettle. I check the tea cabinet and pull down the tea from the woman at the rally. He seemed to really like it last night.
I pluck out a bag and drop it into a mug. Dominic eats quietly, staring out of the window as I wait for the water to boil. There are bags beneath his eyes. He looks completely wiped out.
“I was thinking about stopping by the mansion today and changing the flowers,” I say, and his head whips up.
“You don’t have to do that,” he tells me without so much as a generous smile. “We have volunteers who come in to decorate each season.”
“Yeah, I know but I kind of want to. I saw this beautiful fall bouquet at one of the shops I passed. I can grab some there. You know this Tuesday the mansion is open to the public. The flowers would add a nice touch.”
He contemplates that, chewing quickly. “Okay, sure. Swing by on Monday then.”
“I have to work Monday,” I inform him. And he’d know that if he actually cared about my business.
“Well, Jo, I don’t know what to tell you but there’s a lot to do today at the mansion. People will be in and out all day. I wouldn’t want them getting in the way of you trying to add flowers and whatever else needs doing.” He finishes his food, cramming the last bit of toast into his mouth. Carrying his plate to the sink, he rinses it off while staring through the window. Or maybe he’s staring at it. I don’t know. He’s acting so strange.
“Fine,” I mumble when he finally turns my way.