With their conversation over, Jake swiveled his chair so he had a view of the courtyard through his office window.
He didn’t know Annabelle Sutton well. She was married to a much older man, and they were considered quite the power couple about town, but Jake didn’t move in those circles or have the patience for the upper-crust lifestyle. If he were honest, her brisk manner often intimidated him, but there was no denying she was good at her job.
Perhaps now, with Molly Parker in town, that job would be a little easier going forward.
Jake stood and flicked off the office lights. As he made his way to the back door, he stopped to survey the kitchen—hiskitchen—that restlessness stirring as he thought of his twin. Because opening a patisserie was Jesse’s idea. They’d discussed it at length before Jake signed the lease, both agreeing that the business would solidify Jake’s return and give him something to focus on.
But in reality, the opposite was true. Jake’s world had jostled to a halt months before. Sure, the financial rewards were better than anticipated, but without Jesse’s support, he struggled to achieve the sense of purpose he craved.
Later that evening, while making his way downtown to meet friends at an Irish pub on the waterfront, Jake mentally reviewed his conversation with Annabelle about the elusive Molly Parker. What was Jesse thinking, leaving part of his estate to a woman no one had even heard of, let alone knew anything about?
With the place packed, Jake sat at the end of the bar next to Todd, a close friend from his culinary school days. He was just about to pick up his beer when he sensed someone standing behind him.
“Excuse me?”
Jake turned to put a face to the voice and immediately sat up straighter. Before him stood the woman who’d left that envelope in the courtyard. Normally, he wouldn’t remember his customers until they’d been in several times, but there was something familiar about her, and although she didn’t offer a smile, he couldn’t help but stare at her striking features.
“Can we have a word?”
“Sure.” He placed his glass on the bar and motioned for her to take a seat on the stool next to his. “What’s this about?”
She remained standing and cleared her throat before speaking again. “I got your card. I’ve been working overseas, so it took a while to find me.”
“Card? I don’t follow. Do we know each other?”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. She inhaled. Exhaled. “No. I guess we don’t. But then, we never really did, did we?”
The music switched to a country rock ballad, and Jake leaned a little closer so she could hear him over the noise. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”
“You really don’t remember me?”
“Nope, sorry. But how about I buy you a drink, and you can fill me in?”
She pulled a square blue envelope from her bag and slapped it on the bar in front of him. “No, thanks. You’re eight years too late.”
Puzzled, Jake glanced down at the envelope. By the time he turned to speak a moment later, the woman was weaving her way through the crowd toward the door.
It was then that Jake remembered where he’d seen her before the patisserie. At the traffic lights on Valentine’s Day: Number Nine in the baby-blue cap and snug-fitting activewear.
He turned the envelope over to check its recipient. Immediately recognizing his brother’s neat handwriting, Jake closed his eyes briefly and muttered under his breath, “Molly Parker. What the actual fuck?”
5
Molly stepped out of the elevator and pushed through the double glass doors into the heart of the building. Cool air struck her as she approached the reception desk, making her wish she’d worn a jacket.
She smiled at the receptionist as she looked up from her computer. “Molly Parker. I have an appointment with Annabelle Sutton.”
“Of course.” She pressed a button on the phone in front of her, spoke quietly into the receiver, then stood. “Right this way.”
The receptionist led Molly along a corridor and knocked on the door of a corner office before entering.
An elegant-looking woman in a pencil skirt and crisp white shirt stepped out from behind the desk and extended her hand along with a curt nod, the scent of Flowerbomb wafting around her. “Ms. Parker, I’m Annabelle Sutton.” Her grip was overly firm, and Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. “Please, take a seat.”
A knot tightening in her stomach, Molly sat in the chair offered and waited for the lawyer to continue.
“Thank you for coming in. We’ve been trying to get hold of you for several weeks. I gather you’ve been working overseas?”
That bad feeling intensified. How would she know that? Molly nodded. “Yes, New York. My brother’s been forwarding my mail, and you know what the postal service is like these days,” she waffled. It was a habit born of nervousness that she could never quite contain.
