Well, okay then. I guess that takes care of that. That’s not disappointment I feel that he didn’t press harder to see me. It’s relief that I can focus on my work for the rest of the day. Definitely relief. Picking up the phone, I dial Emma’s extension.
“You know you can just walk down the hall, right?” Emma says, with no preamble. Work mode Emma always makes me smile.
“I could, but then I would have to get up, and I’m busy.” More like I knew if I asked her what I’m about to ask her in person she would read me like a fucking book. No one knows about the kiss or the texting, and I’d rather it stay that way.
“Well, you’re not the only one. What’s up?”
“Why is Asher Hansley coming in to see you today?”
Emma pauses for so long I check to see if the call dropped.
“So that’s the reason you’re calling instead of walking ten feet down the hall.”
Fucking hell. She’s spooky sometimes.
“Just tell me Em.”
“How do you even know that he’s coming here?”
Shit.
“He told me, okay? He’s been texting me a little. He told me he would be here but didn’t tell me why.”
“I just bet that’s making you crazy.”
“Yes,” I mumble, not sure if she’s referring to the texting or the not telling me why he’s coming. Either way, the answer is yes.
“He’s coming in with Jeremy. I’m helping Jeremy with the capital campaign and funding structure for his sports camps. Asher is working with him during the offseason.” Emma’s practice focuses on non-profit organizations. Despite not being able to say two words to Jeremy when we’re in a social settingwithout her face turning bright red, she seems to have no problem communicating with him professionally.
“So…Jeremy’s coming in too. How do you feel about that?” I can’t help but needle her about it a little. I love her and I love Jeremy. If they would just do something about their obvious feelings for each other, they would be great together.
“Oh, sorry, my other line is ringing; gotta go, bye.”
The line goes dead before I can say goodbye.
A few hours later I’m typing out an email to a client transmitting the draft of the trust I worked on all morning when my office phone rings.
“Julie Parker.”
“Julie dear, it’s Cindy Erikson.”
“Hi, Mrs. Erikson, what can I do for you?”
The Eriksons are longtime clients of mine. I did their estate planning at my old firm, and they followed me here. They are friends of my parents, so I updated all their planning as a favor before we officially opened, and I’m glad I did because Bob Erikson died in November.
“I met with our financial advisor this morning to start consolidating and streamlining some of our accounts. He asked about the status of Bob’s probate so we could consolidate the brokerage account in Bob’s name with mine, and I didn’t know anything about that, so I told him I would call you.”
“No problem, Mrs. Erikson, but your financial advisor is mistaken. When I updated your planning, we transferred that account into the revocable trust I set up for Bob. Once Bob died, you became the trustee, so you have authority to managethe account. No probate is necessary because the account isn’t in Bob’s individual name.”
“Well, that’s just the thing. Our financial advisor says the account was never transferred to the trust.”
A pit forms in my stomach. That can’t be possible. I did the paperwork myself to transfer the account to the trust. The account worth millions of dollars. The account we specifically did not want to go through the probate process. My hands start to shake as sweat beads on my forehead.
Keeping my voice as steady as I can, I speak into the phone. “Mrs. Erikson, I’m sure this is a mistake. I’m going to go through my files and reach out to your financial advisor personally, and I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks, honey, you always know just what to do.”
I manage a polite goodbye. It takes me three tries to get the phone back in the cradle. Breathing heavily, I turn to my computer and click on the Erikson’s email folder. My clammy fingers slip on the scrolling wheel and my heart pounds. When I find what I’m looking for, it takes an extra minute for my eyes to focus on the words.
