Charli nodded then turned to leave. She stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder. “Thank you for handling all of this, Mr. Murray.”
He smiled softly. “It’s Art and I’m honored to help. Dottie was not only a client, but a dear friend. She put a lot of time and thought into her last requests. Theresa and I are here if you need anything.”
Charli gave him a small smile and stepped out the door, the brilliant Key West sunshine immediately lifting her mood. She lifted her face to the sun, taking a deep breath and releasing it. Holding the box protectively against her chest, she made her way to her new home.
* * * *
Several years ago, while slogging through law school and then studying for the bar exam, Charli discovered the incredibly therapeutic benefits of cooking and used it frequently whenever work or life got to be too much. This occasion was certainly no exception and, after depositing her precious cargo on the counter and popping open a bottle of wine, she got busy in the kitchen.
She eyed the box and sealed envelope warily as she worked on her favorite Italian dish, uneasy about the contents of both. She felt emotionally drained and overwhelmed from the will reading and didn’t know if she could handle any further revelations right now.
Once she had the rich marinara sauce simmering lightly on the stove top, she walked slowly to the table, her gaze on the envelope.
Knowing she had time while the sauce simmered, Charli picked up the letter and her full wine glass and made her way upstairs to the balcony. She settled intoa comfortable rocker in the corner, took a sip of wine, and carefully opened the letter.
My Dearest Charli...
It is my greatest regret that this message can’t be delivered in person, but the universe had other plans for us. Out of all my nieces and nephews, you were the one I saw myself in the most. In fact, someday you may find yourself being the eclectic old lady on Key West. It was certainly time for me to pass that title on.
But most importantly, I have always known you were the only one who could bring my wishes to fruition. The significance of this is no small thing, because they are not just my requests but they are Amelia’s as well. She cannot rest until her truths have been made known.
I wish I could be there to watch you get to know her as I did, but it was not meant to be. Instead, you’ll make this journey on your own...
Charli continued reading the rest of the letter for several minutes. Finishing the postmortem message, Charli released a rough breath, tears running down her cheeks, the letter dropping to her lap. There was so much to process that she knew she’d need time—a lot of time.
Who is Amelia?
One thing was for certain—this wouldn’t be just a two-week trip to settle her aunt’s estate. If she were to ensure that the historic bed and breakfast was renovated and didn’t go to the town, it would be a long-term project that would require a remarkable amount of her time and attention.
How could she possibly say no to her favorite aunt’s wishes or, for that matter, let Jack down as her new business partner?
Charli wiped the tears off her cheeks and took a fortifying sip of her wine. She stared off into space, considering what she’d need to do to move forward—the challenge seemed insurmountable and she didn’t know where to begin.
As she stood, a commotion of loud squawks from across the street grabbed her attention. She moved to the banister and peered over to find Jack tossing cupfuls of chicken feed over the compound wall. She smiled as he clucked his tongue and cooed to the unseen flock. When he emptied the feed container, he leaned over the wall and watched the activity taking place on the other side.
“I could have handled that for you,” she called out.
Jack turned and shaded his eyes as he looked up at the balcony. He flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I’m used to managing it at this point and kind of enjoy it now.”
Charli grinned. “You’ll have to show me where you keep their food. I can at least take a shift.”
He huffed a laugh and ambled to the sidewalk in front of her house, hands in his pockets and his head tilted up to meet her gaze. “I can do that.”
“I’m making dinner. Would you like to join me?” she asked, holding up her glass.
His smile broadened. “Sure.”
Relief washed though her. “The back door is open. Come on in and help yourself to the wine if you’d like. I’ll be right down.”
He nodded and walked around the house. Watching him go, Charli released a rough breath—at least she wouldn’t be alone tonight.
She made her way back down to the kitchen and chuckled when she found Jack pouring a healthy glass from the open bottle. “Glad I’m not the only one who needs to drink.”
Jack murmured his agreement and took a sip. “It’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it?”
“Mmmhmm, it sure has. Actually, it’s been one hell of a week for me,” Charli agreed as she put the pasta on. “This should take just a few more minutes,” she added absently.
She raised her glass. “Here’s to Aunt Dottie.”
