Be What Love Is Read online

  The service ends, and the caskets are carried out the way that they came in. This time I’m more at ease. Outside the cathedral, Mrs. McHenry greets me. She pulls me into a hug, and I squeeze her tight. She backs away and brushes the hair away from my forehead. “That was very brave, my girl. And you’re right, your grandfather loved you very much. As much as he loved your mother and Mrs. Montgomery.” I’m unsure if she means my grandmother or Anna, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.

  There’s a sharp tap on my right shoulder. It’s Reid with Victoria by his side.

  “May I speak to you?” he asks, his voice tight and controlled.

  “Sure,” I answer, and he walks about twenty yards away to a nearby tree that’s out of earshot from the rest of the mourners.

  Victoria smiles at me in the slimiest way. What is with this woman? I don’t bother smiling back and go over to where Reid is waiting. He’s facing the trunk, with his hand on it like he needs support. Maybe he’s not pissed. Maybe the grief has finally penetrated his well-composed façade.

  “Are you okay?” I ask as I approach. An unexpected urge to stroke his back strikes me.

  Before I make that mistake, he turns toward me. “What the fuck was that?”

  I stumble back a couple of steps. “What?”

  “That performance in there?”

  All kindness is lost. “You mean my eulogy?”

  “Yes. It was an utter disgrace and embarrassing. Your grandfather would be ashamed.”

  I get right up in his face and spit out, “If you think that, then you didn’t know my grandfather very well.”

  He puts his hands on top of his head, his unbuttoned suit coat lifts above his waist, exposing his long, lean torso. “Unbelievable,” he says into the tree branches. “Absolutely, unbelievable.”

  My arms cross over my chest. “What’s so unbelievable?”

  He turns toward me again and this time points in my face. “You. You are unbelievable. You’ve been gone for almost twenty years, and you waltz back in here and put on this ridiculous show of grief and sorrow. I don’t buy it for a minute. I will contest the will if you get a single penny.”

  “Oh, so we’re back to this again. You think I’m here for the money? Right?”

  He stares at me, daring and challenging me. He doesn’t need words. For someone so handsome, he has an ugly streak that runs mean and deep.

  “Why are you here?” I ask. “You certainly don’t appear to be upset at their death. That eulogy was terrible. That could have been said about anyone. It had no meaning, no heart.”

  My jab hits home, and he swallows hard. “I’m grieving.” His voice rumbles in such a low register it reverberates in my chest.

  I hit again. “Wouldn’t know it. So why are you here Reid? You’re the one that’s obsessed with this money thing.”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he says, then turns around and puts his arm against the tree trunk. I’m about to storm off when he turns back toward me and presses his palms together. “Listen. Please stick to the program. No more big outbursts. Trevor and Anna made these plans. Let’s respect their wishes.”

  “Fine,” I bark and then march back over to Julie. Her mouth hangs open. "What did he want? You both looked really upset."

  I don’t want to bring up the money thing again, so I keep it simple. “He just wants me to stick to the program. Respect their wishes and all that.”

  “Oh, okay.” She puts her arm around me while we walk to the car. I’m sure she senses there’s more to the story, but she’s a good enough friend to let it go. We ride in silence to the cemetery.

  As my grandfather and his wife are lowered into the ground, Reid and I stand across from each other. He’s staring at me, and I’m staring right back.

  Bishop Thomas pronounces, “We now commit Trevor and Anna's bodies to the ground.”

  Reid flexes his jaw.

  “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  I clench my fists at my sides, incapable of looking away from him.

  “In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.”

  Our eyes don’t unlock. At that moment I know that I’m going to go head-to-head with this man, one way or another.

  Chapter Four

  Before It's Gone

  Reid

  Mr. Leeds is wrapping up an aspect of the will that deals with the company. It doesn’t come as a surprise that Trevor bequeathed the business to me. That was always the plan and one that he had been grooming me for, but he didn’t provide much more in the way of expansion options. Expanding was never really in his interest and much more in Victoria’s and my own. She wants to bring on more specialized analysts that can help us diversify our investment strategies and provide modern portfolios to bring in new investors. To do this, we’ll also need to expand our footprint.

  Victoria has been taking notes beside me on some of the more technical aspects. Her personality grated at me when I knew her at university, but in business, it’s been tremendously helpful.

  I glance over at Cara. I’ve been doing it repeatedly since we sat down together in the parlor. I would like just the smallest glimpse into what she’s thinking. From what I can tell, she isn’t interested in what Mr. Leeds has to say. Instead, she’s looking through an old hardbound copy of A Tale of Two Cities she picked up from the end table.

  Since the funeral, she’s avoided me, which doesn’t come as much of a shock. We glared at one another at the burial. It took me hours to cool down and accept that she didn’t pull off an intentional stunt at the service, but had a very vulnerable, albeit embarrassing, moment. Her disruptive outburst will be the talk of my friends for days to come. Our kind simply doesn’t behave that way, and she needs to be set straight. Perhaps bending her over my knee and giving her a spanking would do the trick.

  All right, I confess, doing that would massively turn me on as well. But that is obviously not acceptable…unless, of course, she was game. Now, that’s something to ponder.

  Christ, I lose my focus when she’s in the room. Thankfully, Mr. Leeds switches course, and my attention is yanked away from her.

  He details Trevor and Anna’s sizable contribution from the estate to the Children’s Immunization Charity. This was also to be expected. Aunt Anna was dedicated to the C.I.C., and it could be said that it was her life’s work. She was a lovely woman who gave so much to children everywhere, and quite frankly she gave so much to me when I was most alone. She was the one who gave me a family again.

  The reality that I’m alone again settles in as the air in the room thins out. My focus jumps back to Cara, but she catches me this time. I don’t turn away. Neither does she. I sink into her pretty green eyes, and for a brief moment, I let myself find solace there before I get back to business.

  Since she stepped into my life, I’ve oscillated between anger and desire. Sometimes at the same time. But it’s these in-between moments when it’s calm between us, that makes my chest heavy with some unknown emotion. An emotion that overwhelms my senses and in particular my wits. I’ve got to stay sharp now because what happens next will make or break me. If we can’t raise the capital by signing the Collins Group, I’ll have to use my own funds for the expansion.

  Mr. Leeds finishes the section on the charity and starts with what Trevor and Anna had in mind for us. I hope they had enough sense to bequeath most of it to me and give her some small portion as an acknowledgment.

  Cara’s reading the book again, causing Mr. Leeds to have to call for her. “Miss Montgomery?”

  She looks up quickly, and I smile at the rose blush that spreads across her cheeks. “Yes?”

  “We’re to the primary section of the will.”

  She closes the book quietly and leans forward. “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “As with everything, Trevor and Anna were very prepared for all circumstances. As we’ve already covered, they had a joint will. What was his, was hers, and what was hers, was his, and now y
ours,” he says in general and not directed to one of us in particular. Mr. Leeds silently reads a piece of paper and then grabs the dossier of documents. “Right, the letters.”

  “Letters?” I ask.

  “Yes, Trevor and Anna wrote letters to you both, and to your mother, Cara, in the unlikely event that they both passed at the same time. Who would have guessed that two months after they updated their will and wrote these letters that they would both die so tragically? Such a shame.”

  Wait, what? This is news to me. “They updated their will two months ago?”

  “Quite, right. I’m sure they never imagined that this plan would actually be executed. It was just a precaution.”

  There’s a simultaneous sigh throughout the room at that thought, but I stay silent. I have a hard time believing in coincidences.

  “I’ll forward this letter to your mother,” Mr. Leeds says to Cara. “It doesn’t appear to be relevant from here on since she is not listed as a beneficiary.”

  I catch Cara’s eye as she nods and lets out a big breath. Is she relieved? Certainly, she isn’t as relieved as Victoria is right next to me. My associate is flat out smiling about that development.

  Mr. Leeds hands the first letter to Cara. She holds it gingerly and traces the letters of her name across the envelope. When I get mine, I rip it open and start reading. It’s from Anna.

  Reid,

  I know it’s probably odd getting a letter from me like this, but I wanted to express some final wishes and thoughts I have for you now that I’m gone. Since you’ve received this letter at the reading of the will, I have a feeling that you’ve met Trevor’s granddaughter, Cara. We made the two of you equal beneficiaries of this estate. We believe this will be an amicable arrangement.

  The letter still has a few more paragraphs, but I can’t read another word. I crumple it into a tight ball, stand up and pace around the room. My heart is hammering in my chest.

  “What is it?” Victoria asks in desperation and latches onto my arm.

  “Tom, this is ridiculous,” I blurt out, dropping all formality.

  He holds up his hands, as in don’t shoot the messenger. “I’m sorry Mr. Lewis, but these were their wishes.”

  I point over at Cara. “But she turned her back on them.”

  She stands and takes two strides toward me. “Hey, don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth,” I charge and place a hand on my hip as I glare at her.

  “Please, sir, I need to finish reading the will.”

  “What’s the point? My aunt made it clear that I’m supposed to share it with her. Absolute nonsense.”

  “Reid, you must contest this,” Victoria pleads.

  “Perhaps I will.”

  Mr. Leeds pipes up. “That is your privy, sir, but I assure you that these were their wishes and they were in right mind. You won’t get very far with a lawsuit.”

  “Let’s go,” Victoria says and tries to drag me to the door.

  Mr. Leeds stops us. “I have to finish this.” He quickly reads through the rest and skips to the final sentence. “We give, devise, and bequeath Cara Montgomery and Reid Lewis all of the rest, residue, and remainder of our estate, both real and personal.”

  I let the words sink in. It’s so general, not specific at all. I’m surprised. Cara is blinking and looking around at the antique rug, and the paintings of sailboats, and then at me. I need to think and having her in my eye line isn’t conducive for that. I turn away and rub my chin, in an effort to focus.

  “So that’s it?” I ask Mr. Leeds. “They didn’t list out property specifically?”

  Mr. Leeds shakes his head and hands me the document. I scan it over, and it is as simple as it sounds. They didn’t divide the assets specifically. The estate is ours to do with what we like. Ours. That notion settles low in my belly and for the first time in days the nagging hollow feeling eases just the tiniest bit. However limited the attachment is to her, it exists.

  I glance back at Cara. Her eyes are wide as saucers, and her mouth hangs open as she stares into the dark fireplace. The weight of this is sinking in for both of us.

  “Mr. Lewis, Miss Montgomery, I recommend that you both consult with legal counsel to divide the assets.”

  That’s a no-brainer, but Cara squeaks out, “I don’t have a lawyer.”

  “I can represent you,” Mr. Leeds offers.

  “Thanks,” she replies, then sits back down and looks at her letter. She once again traces over the words and raw emotion washes over her face. She starts to quietly cry, blinking away tears.

  “Here we go again,” Victoria mumbles, and I have to bite my tongue, so I don’t tell Victoria to shut it. Cara crying makes my chest tighten. Years ago, I learned how to suppress grief in the company of others, even when it wraps itself around my lungs and my heart. Cara is so clearly new to this. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a freshly pressed handkerchief.

  I bring it over to her and hold it out. She looks up with wet eyes and an angry smirk. “Seriously?” she sneers, but I don’t back down. Instead, I nod and feel my own features soften under her gaze. Somehow that breaks through to her and without further hesitation, she takes the handkerchief and wipes the tears away. “Thank you,” she whispers.

  I need to talk to Cara, to understand where her mind is at with all this and plan my next move. “May we have the room?” I ask, and Victoria’s jaw drops below sea level. Without a word, both Mr. Leeds and Victoria leave the room and close the door behind them.

  The room becomes very quiet yet somehow smaller now that it’s only the two of us. It’s the first time we’ve truly been alone since our meeting in the hallway, after her shower. My blood ignites at the memory of her bare wet skin.

  Focus.

  Cara rereads her letter, her eyes racing across the page.

  “Is your letter from Trevor?” I find myself asking, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Yes.”

  “I figured as much, mine is from Anna.” I open the letter from the crumpled ball and smooth it out against my thigh so I can reread it.

  “Something to treasure, forever, right?”

  I tilt my head. “Why? It’s just a letter.”

  Her mouth falls open, before nodding once and averting her eyes to the ceiling.

  “So, Cara, how should we proceed? My aunt indicated that this could be quite amicable, so I suppose it’d be best if we can work this out on our own before we get bogged down in legal fees.”

  She sits forward and blurts out, “Is everything about money for you?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Is it?”

  “No. Not everything,” I shoot right back, but I’m not exactly sure that’s true these days.

  She sits back in the chair and crosses her arms. “So what do you want to do?”

  I squeeze my bottom lip between my thumb and index finger and take a shot at an idea that’s been floating around my head. It would be the least complicated and time-consuming. “Well, I propose we hire an estate seller, auction everything, then split the proceeds.”

  “What? Why?” she says, surprising me at her reaction. “I can’t imagine some stranger off the street going through my grandfather’s things. What about the things we want to keep?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are things here that mean something to me. Things that I want to take home, like this book.” She holds up the Dickens classic. “This was my grandfather’s. He used to read it to me.”

  Ah. I should have pegged Cara for sentimental. “Oh. That’s something I hadn’t considered,” I admit.

  “Well, surely there are things here that you want to keep, right?”

  There isn’t anything I want and certainly not for sentimental reasons. I moved past sentimental years ago. I had to. I shake my head in response.

  “Really? There’s not a single thing here that you want to keep?”

  I walk over to the window and grimace at the grey skies. I know it’
s heartless, but I don’t want a damn thing. I want the money, plain and simple. I can’t admit it, though. I can’t be that raw with her. “Maybe,” I lie.

  “So then I counter-propose that we go through the house room-by-room and decide what gets sold, what gets donated, and what we keep. Whatever we sell, we split. Deal?”

  I cross my arms over my chest and consider her proposal. It will take way too long to go through the house, and I’d have to be away from work at a critical time. Absolutely not.

  I turn back toward her, about to say just that, but stop. She’s holding A Tale of Two Cities against her chest. My mouth is open, ready to say no, but it’s suddenly impossible to deny her.

  “Well?” she asks, her eyes eager as she sits forward with the book cradled against her.

  I quickly run through a scenario where I leave her here to do it all herself, but that doesn’t sit well with me either. What if she wants to keep something that’s valuable? No, that would not be acceptable.

  I’m stuck. Can I really take time away from work to deal with the estate? With her? I suppose I could work from here and keep an eye on her as I do it. That just might work. A nagging voice in my head wonders if I want to stay only for the money or if there’s some softer, Cara reason that I’d be willing to give this a shot. I push that voice aside and go for it. “Deal,” I say and hope to God I won’t regret it.

  She nods and sits back, taking a deep breath. I assume we’ll set terms for our agreement, but she delicately presses her fingers to her forehead and closes her eyes.

  “Do you have a headache?”

  “Yeah. It’s a lot, you know? A lot to handle.”

  “This is your first bereavement isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, that obvious?”

  It explains a lot about her behavior. “A little.”

  Her mouth lifts at the corner while she gazes up at me through her wet eyelashes with shiny green eyes. My heart pumps faster. “Was it my outburst at the funeral?” she jokes.

  I bite on the inside of my cheek as I formulate a response.