Please contact our office at your earliest convenience to arrange an appointment so we can discuss your involvement.
Sincerely,
Annabelle Sutton
LLB (Hons) LLM (Hons)
Annabelle Sutton. Puzzled, she glanced at the date in the top lefthand corner—the first week of December. It was now February fifteenth.
Molly scanned the letter for the second time.One of our deceased clients. Who could that possibly be? Besides Mr. Tilly, who’d lived across the street from her parents’ place in Tulloch Point until he died on the morning of his ninety-fifth birthday, leaving behind seven cats, Molly couldn’t think of anyone who’d passed away recently. So why would they be contacting her?
Unless… Mr. Tilly had left her one of his cats.
3
The card Molly assumed was a wedding invitation sat forgotten in the manila envelope until after work the following day;when it suddenly dawned on her that she’d almost tossed it in the wastepaper basket without giving it a second thought.
She dropped the card-sized envelope beside her laptop on the island and closed the window above the kitchen sink. The rented tiny house, nestled between rhododendrons and hydrangeas at the end of Gloria’s driveway, was scarcely big enough for a two-seater sofa and coffee table, let alone a dedicated place to sit and create. So, on the one day a week that Molly worked from home, she’d set up her laptop on the small kitchen island and spend most of her time staring out at Gloria’s flower garden, searching for inspiration.
For the remainder of the week, she worked in SpinWeb Media’s newly renovated downtown office. Her title: Media Marketing Executive.
When she made the decision to move to Clifton Falls for a parental leave contract, CeCe and Luka suggested she come live with them, but Molly, never wanting to be a third wheel, politely declined. Besides, she rather enjoyed living alone. There was something liberating about having your own space, even a small one.
Molly picked up the envelope. With no return address or cursive font, it didn’t look like a wedding invitation. She prized open the back flap and slid out the card. On its front was a moody photograph of a run-down boat shed perched at the end of a jetty overlooking a misty lake.
Hands shaking for reasons she failed to fathom, Molly opened the card and read the message inside.
Sweet Molly,
Our parting forever stilled my heart.
Love,
Jesse xxx
Pulse racing, she pulled out a chair and sank onto it. Took a swig from her water bottle. Reread the words and then flipped over the card to see if there was anything on the reverse.
Nothing.
At first, she was touched by his gesture. It was as much of an apology as she’d ever get, albeit eight years too late, so she’d accept it with a dose of grace and a generous pinch of WTAF.
However, the following day, when she woke with the words of the card still in her head, the expression “mildly pissed off” would have best described her mood, and as the day progressed,mildlyturned into extremely.
Who did Jesse Sinclair think he was? Swanning around on his Vespa, holding her gaze as if he had the right… and that knowing smile of his at the patisserie. It seemed his ego was as robust as ever.
But as the days passed, Molly knew she had to see him again, even if only to lay a few ghosts to rest. Because sending her that card after all these years was akin to him ripping open a wound he’d inflicted and dousing it with lemon juice.
Forever stilled his heart?Seriously?
A week later, as she drove past Petrie Patisserie on the way home from work, the urge to confront Jesse got the better of her.
Molly parked across the road under one of the Norfolk pines lining the route. It was almost four; they’d be closing in a few minutes.
She’d carried that card in the side pocket of her bag everywhere she went, even opening it to reread it on several occasions. Now Jesse could have it back and shove it anywhere he deemed fit—although Molly would gladly offer a suggestion.
She took a deep breath and pushed through the door, and as it closed behind her, a woman looked over and smiled in greeting. “What can I get you, love? There’s not much left, I’m afraid, but the éclairs are a house specialty.”
Molly returned her smile. She loved éclairs, but today was not a sweet-treat kind of day. “I was wondering if Jesse was here.”
