Page 18 of What We Had

“I’m sure,” she said and sipped at her tea.

The Connor Committee for Not Speaking Your Mind had apparently been away on vacation. I blurted out the first thing that I thought of. “I’m gay, Prue. My mother always insisted I keep it a secret, which ultimately ended up doing more damage than Winnie’s lies.I’m gay. I would never sexually harass aman, let alone a woman.”

Prue lowered her tea and cleared her throat. She smoothed out her already-smoothed sweater. “I see.” I watched her face, saw how she schooled her composure. A lawyer, through and through. “That’s quite a gutsy accusation from her, then. She never brought you to court, right?” I nodded. “Have you considered suing her for slander, then? I have a number of friends out in that area. They could be of some help? You could ask for protective orders to seal the court documents if you wish to keep your side of the story private.”

I snorted a derisive laugh. “Nothing stays private out there. Trust me.”

She looked down at her lap, then lifted her eyes and took in a breath. “Well, in the spirit of transparency, you should know that it seems likely your uncle will petition the court. He plans to contest your appointment as executor of the trust.”

My mouth dropped open. “He… what? Why?”

“James is keen to own the Colonel William Clarke House. He doesn’t care about the funds in the trust or any other asset. He wants the house.”

My eyes narrowed. “It’smine,” I said, perhaps too childishly. My father had owned the house, passed down from his father, and placed the property in the trust as a means of protection. Legally, ownership belonged to the trust, but as the eventual executor, I would be given oversight of the house. But the legal implications of my uncle’s intensions swirled in confusion. Trust laws, inheritance laws, executor versus inheritor. I would never fully understand it all, but Prue received a large sum of cash from the Garrett-Clarke Trust to protect our interests.

“James is a probate lawyer. Now, the property ties directly to you via the trust, which protects it from the probate court. But James is quite cunning and knows the trust is ironclad. Which is why he will contest your appointment as executor. If he succeeds, he could have himself named as executor.”

I hadn’t seen or heard from my father’s brother in over a decade. I had a feeling he was about to start showing his face more. “Is this something I need to worry about?”

“Oh, no, not at all. But perhaps down the road. The Garrett-Clarke Trust is well protected here with my firm. We’ll keep track of everything for you. But, James is gregarious. He, your father, and I all went to the same law school. He likes to influence outside the court as much as possible.”

She stood and ran her hands down a tweed skirt. I stood as well and stuck out my hand for a shake. “Thank you, Prue.”Also, you’re welcome for a two-thousand-dollar visit.

“Of course. We’ll speak more soon, Connor. Donna can see you out.”

Prue’s law office had its own private parking lot, a perfectly square space surrounded by evergreens and bare oaks. I climbed into the front seat of my rental and reached for my cellphone in the cupholder. Rachel was with Mom and I’d let her know I would be MIA for two hours while meeting with Prue. I expected an update from Rachel when I grabbed my phone, a sitrep on how Cordelia faired.

Instead, I saw a notification.

BENNETT DUBOIS sent you a message.

The notification was stacked, which meant Bennett Dubois sent me more than one message.

My heart rate instantly doubled. It was almost five in the evening, and he sent the last text twenty minutes ago. He must have woken up recently.

The committee, still on vacation, had taken Lizard Connor with them. I had the wherewithal to not slam my finger down on the notification for a rush of dopamine. Instead, I savored the moment. Behind the locked screen could be any number of conversations from Bennett.

This was a mistake. Please don’t reach out to me again.

Here’s my address. Door’s unlocked. I’m in the bedroom.

Hey.

It was like Schrödinger’s cat. There existed a plurality inside that box, where Bennett’s message equaled both ecstasy and heartache. Reading it, observing the evidence, would solidify this potential into one or the other. But for now, there were endless possibilities.

And I savored it. I sat there for a solid minute, reveling that he did in fact text me when he woke up. Not once, but three times, judging by the stack.

I needed that. After spending two hours going through what life would be like with a dead mother and a stupid-big home under my care, I needed a reprieve.Hewas my reprieve, a break from the insanity. Solace when the shadows had made me their pauper.

I opened my notifications.

Bennett:Hey. Just woke up.

Bennett:Thought about what you said this morning, about the gym. You can join me later at mine, if you want? I have a guest pass. It’s a pretty solid place.

Bennett:You must be busy. Heading there now. Hit me up if you can make it. Here’s the address.

Thank god Bennett wasn’t on patrol. I broke every speed limit getting to the house to change. I approached the speed of light on my way to the gym.

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