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“It’s something my mother makes and probably the only thing I’ve learned to bake. It is French toast with fruit and cream with heaps of syrup when it’s done.” He shrugs and says, “I had time while I was waiting for my printer to spit out the reports I was printing for Caleb.” He gets up and continues, “Which reminds me, he loves this stuff and is going to be here in a second. He might as well eat with us.” He dishes out another helping for Caleb just as the bell rings.
“Hey, Jaz. Yo, bro. I could smell that shit in the hallway. I hope you saved me some,” Caleb says. Zeke points to a place next to his seat. “Thanks, Zeke. I didn’t have time to grab anything yet. I was going to get something through the drive-thru after this.” Caleb takes a huge bite and moans. “Damn, this is as good as your mom’s.”
“Don’t tell her that. She guards this recipe and swears that it’ll take years to perfect it. No matter what you think, you tell her that hers still has a little something special,” Zeke warns him.
“Yeah, I know. I got one of those too. To this day, I can’t fold laundry the ‘right’ way.” Caleb laughs. “Joke’s on her, though. When she comes over and sees I haven’t done it her way, she refolds it and puts it away.”
“What about your mom, Jazzy?” Zeke pulls me into the conversation.
“Mom and I loved cooking together. I’m a better baker than cook, but I do all right. Before Mom and Dad retired and moved away, we would have Sundays together. The three of us would hang out, make a special dinner, then watch a movie.”
“It’s rare that a young woman wants to spend time with her parents instead of friends,” Caleb comments.
“My friends love my parents. They would join in most of the time. Dad’s cool and Mom’s, well, she’s amazing,” I say. “They plan on coming for Thanksgiving, and hopefully, you can all meet them.”
I’ve been around Zeke’s friends several times and I really like them. They’re easy to talk with, and I see how they look after one another. And now, me. I realized last night how much I was missing girl time with my friends. I’ve thrown myself into work, but I’ve been missing my friends and my parents.
“Babe, where did you go?” Zeke reaches for me, taking me away from my thoughts and looking at me with great concern.
I shrug it off. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t do that.” Zeke shakes his head. “I wanna know.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Say it,” Zeke presses.
“I’ve been so busy working, and I’m realizing now that I did that on purpose because I was lonely. When Monica and Macey moved away, I thought I was okay, mainly because I still had Mom and Dad. Then they left. They all had perfectly valid reasons and I want them to be happy, but my world got smaller. I was just thinking how much I really liked the time I spent with Chloe and Sabrina yesterday and how great all of you have been to me,” I confess.
“You’ve been claimed by Zeke, and that means you’re part of this crew, Jaz. Kiss loneliness goodbye when Chloe and Sabrina are in the mix,” Caleb says with a laugh. Zeke joins in. It’s so contagious that I can’t help but laugh along with them.
* * *
The school day went along as planned. The kids were thrilled to play soccer outside, and right there with us was Zeke. He stuck to me like glue all day, but even more so when we were out in the open. His gaze swept the perimeter as he made sure all the kids stayed in a designated area. When the principal came out to join us, I was convinced that Zeke must have asked her to come for an extra set of eyes. He denies this, but I’m still not convinced. The kids didn’t notice a thing. They were thrilled to be out with nature doing what kids love to do: run and play.
At the end of the day, Zeke reminds me that we’re heading over to the lawyer’s office. Caleb and Damian are meeting us there.
“I still think this is a waste of time. I’ve racked my brain and can’t for the life of me recall anyone who passed away, let alone anyone who knows me well enough to want to leave me anything.” I know I’m repeating myself, but this seems like a futile effort.
“It’s another piece of the puzzle, babe. Whether it’s a case of mistaken identity or real, it’s a lead and we’ve got to follow it. If it gets us another step closer to the end of this nightmare, we’ve got to see it through,” he says as he pulls into the empty parking spot in the lot of the building.
When we go inside, the place looks impressive. The furniture is traditional but elegant, high-end classic pieces. The floors sparkle, and everyone we’ve seen so far is dressed in suits and dresses that probably cost more than my rent.
Caleb and Damian are waiting for us in the waiting area.
“They’re waiting for you, Jasmine,” Caleb says, then he turns to the beautifully tailored woman behind the reception desk. “Mr. Davis is expecting us, Miss Belfour and the Colorado Police Department,” he states with authority. The well-coiffed woman is taken aback at the mention of the police being present. She picks up the phone with a shaky hand, but manages to keep her tone even and smooth to announce our arrival.
“He’ll be right out, Officer,” she tells us. The words are barely spoken when a very handsome older man comes through the double doors that lead to what I presume are the lawyers’ offices. He’s very distinguished-looking, clean-shaven, with salt-and-pepper hair and an immaculately tailored suit molded to his tall lean frame. Mr. Davis takes one look at me and stops dead in his tracks, like he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Miss Belfour?” he asks, extending a hand. I take it. His tone is gentle and calming. “It’s good to meet you. Finally.” Mr. Davis acknowledges the men surrounding me and invites us all to join him in his office. We follow him down the long hallway to the end of the corridor, and into his massive office. It’s bigger than my apartment, with a view of the city that’s breathtaking. “Please, sit,” he says, and waits for us to do so before taking his place behind his desk.
“Mr. Davis, we’re here for some answers,” Caleb starts, but he’s interrupted by the lawyer.
“Excuse me, Mr. Thorne, is it?”
“Detective Thorne,” Caleb responds with an authoritative tone, putting Mr. Davis firmly in his place. Note to self, never talk down to Caleb. He will eat you alive.
Mr. Davis clears his throat. “Detective Thorne. As I mentioned, this matter solely concerns Miss Belfour. It is completely at her discretion if she should wish to have you present at this meeting.”
