Julia: That must be difficult. Was it sudden?
Dylan: Unexpected.
Julia: Dylan, I can tell this is hard. But your answers feel . . . evasive. I’m just trying to understand why I can’t find any trace of your shop anywhere.
Dylan: As I said, Uncle Tobias had an exclusive clientele.
Julia: But surely there would be some record? Business registration? Tax records? Something?
Dylan: Therearerecords, Julia. Just not online ones.
Julia stared at her phone, her frustration growing. Every answer raised more questions.
Julia: I’m not trying to pry. I just need to feel comfortable about meeting someone I’ve only known through text messages.
Dylan: I wish I could explain everything better. It’s complicated right now.
Julia: Complicated how?
No response came for several minutes. When it did, it was brief:
Dylan: I’m still trying to sort out some things about his death. It’s been a labyrinth of complications.
Julia felt a pang of sympathy. She was also wary. His pain seemed genuine, but so had Aaron’s fabricated family emergencies.
Julia: I understand grief is private. But try to understand my position too. I’m about to meet someone whose business doesn’t seem to exist, whose family situation is vague, at best . . .
Dylan: I don’t blame you for being cautious.
Julia: Then help me understand. Give me something I can verify.
Another long pause.
Dylan: I can’t right now. There are pending legal issues . . . I know how that sounds.
It sounded exactly like the kind of excuse someone would use to avoid providing proof, Julia thought. Yet something in his tone—the reluctance rather than defensiveness—gave her pause.
Julia: Legal issues related to your uncle’s death?
Dylan:Among other things.
Julia:Dylan, this conversation is making me nervous.
Dylan:I know. I’m truly sorry. I want to tell you more, but can’t right now. If you decide not to meet in Boston, I’ll understand.
His response felt resigned. Either he was telling some version of the truth, or he was an exceptionally skilled liar.
Julia: I need to think about this.
Dylan: Take all the time you need.
As Julia set her phone down, she felt more conflicted than before. Dylan’s evasiveness about his shop could mean he wasn’t being straight with her. It also fit with someone dealing with a recent loss, and the messy aftermath. If his uncle really had just died, that could explain why he was being distant and why his business might be in some kind of legal tangle.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there were pieces of the story he wasn’t telling her. Important pieces. Whether those omissions were protective or deceptive, she could not tell.
The night before her flight to Boston, Julia sat in bed, suitcase packed, presentation rehearsed. She hadn’t confirmed or canceled their meeting. Eventually, she turned out the light and tried to sleep, knowing tomorrow would take her to Boston—and to a decision she wasn’t yet prepared to make.
Chapter 7
