Page 117 of Key West Homecoming

Emma had spent so much of her adult life believing that wanting something wasn’t enough. There had to be a reason, a plan and some assurance that the decision would make sense later.

She didn’t have any of that with Jake. All she knew was that when he touched her cheek, she hadn’t wanted him to stop.

There would be time tomorrow to think about what that meant for Chicago, for Key West and for the life she still hadn’t decided how to live. Tonight, Emma let herself be happy.

CHAPTER 19

The Victorian on Whitehead Street had been a private house once, a boarding house twice and, eventually, a law office with a brass plaque beside the door and a pineapple flag over the porch.

Yolanda was at the front desk when Emma came in. She looked up, wished her good morning and pointed toward the back with her chin.

“She’s got everything laid out. Coffee’s fresh. Don’t touch the middle stack because it’s still in order.”

“I won’t touch the middle stack.”

Rachel’s office was small and orderly, with one tall window overlooking the side garden and a fig tree. Three neat piles of paper covered most of the desk. The middle one was the tallest and had a yellow note on top with DO NOT TOUCH written in Yolanda’s blocky handwriting.

Rachel sat behind the desk with reading glasses low on her nose. She motioned Emma toward the chair across from her.

“Sit down. Coffee’s on the side table if you want it. I’m going to walk you through everything I’ve put together this week, and there’s a lot.”

Emma poured herself a cup before sitting. She had learned enough about Rachel to know that when the woman told her to sit down before beginning a conversation, she probably should.

Rachel removed her glasses and folded her hands on the desk.

“I’m going to start with the estate because that’s where the picture gets bigger. Then we’ll go through the rental income and talk about what we may be able to recover. Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.”

“Your grandmother’s estate at the time of her death was worth roughly one point four million dollars. That includes the cottage, the Miami condo, her brokerage account, personal property and the cash she had in checking. Under the will we brought back from Miami, most of that estate goes to you. Arthur receives specific bequests. Some jewelry from your grandfather’s side, a set of china that belonged to Gloria’s mother and whatever remained in checking after her medical expenses were paid. It isn’t nothing, but it isn’t the estate.”

Emma held the coffee in both hands.

“And under the will Arthur filed?”

“He receives everything. That’s the will the probate court admitted after Gloria died, and he’s been acting as personal representative under it for the last year. The estate is still open, which matters a great deal for us.”

“So he wasn’t only trying to take the cottage.”

“No. The cottage was simply the last major asset he hadn’t finished dealing with when Samantha Larson called you.”

Emma set the coffee down.

“Walk me through what he did.”

Rachel put her glasses back on and pulled one of the stacks toward her.

“The Miami condo was listed four months after your grandmother died and sold six months ago for six hundred twenty-five thousand dollars. After the closing costs and other expenses, roughly five hundred eighty thousand remained. The records show that money eventually went into an account Arthur controls at a bank in Marathon.”

Emma said nothing.

“Then there’s the brokerage account. Approximately one hundred eighty thousand dollars was liquidated. I also found records showing that two pieces of jewelry were sold through an estate broker in Miami for about twenty-two thousand.”

“And that money?”

“The same Marathon account, according to the records I have so far.”

Emma looked at the papers spread across Rachel’s desk. She had known Arthur’s actions were larger than the cottage, but hearing each asset reduced to a sale date and a dollar amount made the betrayal feel more deliberate.