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  Since I’m strapped for time, I get right to work, opening all the drawers and taking out the files. The first drawer has some photos of her and John that look like they’re from the couple’s early days. In the pictures, something about him, even from back then, looks void, with undercurrents of despair or even misery. Liza’s smiling—and back then too, her smile could light up a room. I set the pictures aside and continue removing stuff from the drawers.

  I find receipts from the grocery store and department stores, which I throw out. There’s an invoice from the car dealership and other papers that look like mortgage documents, miscellaneous bills, and a birth certificate. I decide to save those.

  I’m taping a box when my phone rings. I look at the screen, and I’m surprised to see that it’s my mom.

  I answer the call. “Hey, Mom!”

  “Hi, sweetie,” she says.

  “What’s up?”

  “Brian’s in town, and I was hoping you could join us this Saturday for dinner.”

  I try to remember if we have anything going on Saturday evening. Technically, Nolan and I should be done with everything at Bill’s house by then. “Sure, I think so. Do you mind if I bring Nolan?”

  “Of course not,” she practically sings. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I smile. “Okay, Mom. Your house?”

  “Yes. Dinner’s at seven o’clock.”

  “See you then.” The doorbell rings. “Got to go, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  We hang up, and I race to the door. I open it and see Nolan and the movers. I’m happy he’s here, and I lead them right to the office.

  “Everything that was in the desk is in boxes,” I say while pointing, “and this one over here we need to keep.”

  The movers pick up the desk, and while they flip it over to get it through the door, something inside the desk rattles then falls onto the floor.

  “What’s that?” Nolan says.

  I squint at what looks like a glass vial, like the kind used for syringes at the doctor’s office.

  Nolan bends and picks it up, looking confused. “Humph.” He holds it carefully between his thumb and index finger. “I wonder why this is here?”

  “Me too,” I say.

  Nolan shakes it. “There’s some clear liquid in it.”

  I garner a closer look. “Yeah.”

  “Ahem. Do you want us to put this down?” one of the movers asks.

  Nolan looks up and realizes he’s standing in the way. “Oh, no… of course not.”

  He leaps out of their path, and the movers continue down the hall.

  Nolan looks closer at the vial. “Whatever it is, there’s still a little something inside it.”

  I grunt, intrigued.

  One of the movers calls from the living room for help with the door.

  Nolan slips the vial into his pocket. “I’ll be right there!”

  27

  The movers bring Bill’s desk and chair into Liza’s office, unwrap them, and set them up. Once we’re done, we lock up Liza’s house and head back to Bill’s to do some more work. We don’t get home until late in the day, and again we’re exhausted. I hop into the shower to get ready for dinner, and Nolan goes into his office.

  “Hey, I’m out. You can use the shower now!” I holler while wrapping a towel around my hair.

  He doesn’t respond, so I go to his office to find him.

  “Humph,” he says with his phone pressed to his ear, sitting behind his desk. He waves me over and cups his hand over the phone. “It’s Liza,” he says under his breath. “So,” Nolan says to her, “are you sure you don’t know anything about a glass vial in John’s desk?... Um hum. Yeah, yes.” He nods.

  I walk deeper into the office and stop in front of the desk.

  He takes the phone away from his ear and taps the screen, switching the phone to speaker. “Guess who’s here with me?”

  “Hi, Liza,” I say enthusiastically, dreaming about what it would be like if I were actually in Italy with her.

  She gives me a resoundingly warm hello and thanks me for helping with the move.

  “You’re welcome. How’s Aiden?” I ask.

  “He’s an angel,” she says. “I’d bring him to the phone, but he’s asleep. As a matter of fact, that’s what I’ve got to be doing pretty quickly. It’s late here.”

  I look at my watch. She’s seven hours ahead of us, and it’s five o’clock here. “It sure is. We better let you get going.”

  “Well, maybe next time you’re vacationing, you and Nolan can come here. That way, we can just have a conversation in person.”

  “Are you reading my mind?” I say.

  “You know it.”

  We laugh.

  “Okay, bye, Abby… take care of my brother for me,” she adds.

  I look at Nolan and wink. “You know I will.”

  “Love you, sis,” Nolan says.

  “Love you too,” Liza says.

  We hang up. Nolan sets the phone aside, and I rub my hair with my towel.

  “So she doesn’t know anything about it?” I ask.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Maybe it’s nothing.”

  Nolan scratches his chin. “Maybe...” But he doesn’t sound convinced.

  Nolan goes off to take a shower, and I finish gussying up. An hour later, we’re ready to head out for dinner.

  Traffic is a breeze, and we pull into the parking lot of the Wild Roast Café with plenty of time to make our reservation. The hostess leads us to the same corner table we had the first time we were here. It’s elegantly draped with a white cloth and has place settings for two and two tall candles already lit.

  “Your seats, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick,” she says.

  I look at Nolan and bite my lip. I want to say that I’m not Mrs. Patrick, but I think better of it. I don’t want to embarrass her or Nolan.

  Nolan pulls out my seat and then takes his. He leans across the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Patrick?” he says with a smile.

  I chuckle nervously. I had hoped he wouldn’t mention it. “I know.”

  He sits back. “You know, it doesn’t have a bad ring to it.”

  The corners of my mouth turn down as the thought of losing my last name passes through my brain. “Humph.”

  Nolan frowns curiously before grabbing the wine list. “I was thinking something like—”

  “Hi, Nolan,” a woman says, interrupting him before he can finish.

  We both look to my right.

  It’s Kelsey, his ex-wife. And as usual, she’s dressed to impress.

  Nolan looks shocked. “Kelsey? Hi. What are you doing here?”

  She steps aside to show off her date. They complement each other well.

  “Mike, this is Nolan.” She gestures as she makes a formal introduction. “And…” She looks at me. “Abby, right?”

  I nod.

  “Well, anyway, I just saw you here and thought I’d say hi. But I was going to call you anyway.”

  Nolan remains straight-faced. “About what?”

  “Not here. Could we meet tomorrow at noon?”

  “About what, Kelsey?” Nolan insists.

  She grunts, sounding frustrated. “I’m not here to hurt you, Nolan. Just please meet me tomorrow. It won’t take long.” She looks at me. I’m sure I’m having a difficult time concealing my discomfort with this. “In fact, why don’t the two of you come? Say the Calypso Café?”

  Nolan looks at me, and I shrug. I really don’t care one way or the other. If Kelsey has something up her sleeve, then he’ll find out about it sooner or later.

  “Whatever… sure, I’ll try,” Nolan says.

  Kelsey beams. “Thank you, Nolan.” She turns to me. “And good seeing you, Abby. You both look happy, and that makes me glad.” She has this weird smile stuck on her face, as if she drank the Kool-Aid or something.

  “Good night, Kelsey.” Nolan’s expression remains stern.

  She and her date tur
n and leave.

  I chuckle a little. “Well, that was interesting.”

  “Yeah, I wonder what she’s up to now.”

  I rub his hand. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be just fine.”

  Our waiter comes and suggests the featured course prepared by the resident chef, Alize. “It comes highly recommended,” he says before listing each of the courses: Alaskan crab, seared foie gras, Maine lobster, and tea-smoked duck breast. I barely hear the rest of what he says as I salivate.

  I think it sounds wonderful, so Nolan and I take the waiter’s recommendation. Nolan orders a bottle of white wine for us before the waiter leaves.

  While we wait for our food, I talk about finishing up at Bill’s house and our plans for the rest of the summer, which include a trip to Italy to visit Liza and Aiden.

  “It’s hard to believe she left for Italy eighteen months ago and hasn’t been back since.”

  Nolan forces a weak smile. “Yeah.”

  I’m happy that he’s at least trying to look engaged. “Well, do you think she’s seeing anyone there?”

  “She hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

  “Me neither.” Suddenly, I remember dinner at my parents’ house on Saturday, and I ask him about it.

  “Saturday?” he says with a frown.

  “You don’t have to go…”

  “Yes. I want to go.”

  I couldn’t tell by that look on his face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes—I’m sure.”

  I shrug my eyebrows. “Okay. Well, my mom loves fine wine. I was thinking about trying to find a bottle for dinner.”

  “Uh-huh.” He’s back to sounding despondent, which I attribute to the fact that his ex-wife has rekindled painful memories and that she remains seated several tables away.

  Thank goodness I don’t have to work so hard to keep up a conversation because the food arrives, and we gorge ourselves over the next hour and a half. Needless to say, the meal is completely fantastic. The desserts, including a chocolate ganache fig cake, are delectable aphrodisiacs.

  When we get back to Nolan’s place, I feel fire in my loins, and I think he feels the same in his. We open the door, making out wildly. We shuffle into the bedroom and fall on the bed with me on my back. Nolan parts my knees then pins them to the sheets. He’s so eager to be inside me that he shifts the crotch of my panties and thrusts his erection inside me. It feels so damn good, and I moan. The two of us roll back and forth as we make love.

  Our sex takes many variations. At times we go at it so passionately that our bodies glisten with sweat, and other times Nolan’s thrusts are delicate and gentle while we hold each other so closely that I never want to let go. We make love until we’re both spent, and we fall asleep.

  At some point, I roll over without feeling the warmth of his presence, and I open my eyes. The spot next to me is vacant and cold. I look at the clock—it’s two thirty in the morning. I slip out of bed and into my robe. I know exactly where to find him.

  I head to his office. “There you are.”

  He’s seated behind his desk, staring into space, but when he hears me, he snaps from his daze. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”

  I look at his desk. The vial we found at Liza’s house is sitting on top of it in a Ziploc bag.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “It’s just… something isn’t right. First it’s the dreams, then it’s the vial, and now images of my father are in my head, and I can’t get them out. I can’t sleep, and the only thing I keep coming back to is this dang vial. It just doesn’t add up.”

  I can see how much this bothers him, so I go over to him, and he lets me sit on his lap. I put my arm around his back and lean my head onto his. “I’m sorry, baby. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know. I just need to get this figured out. I have a friend who works at M3. I’m going to call him when we get up in the morning and ask if he could tell me what’s inside there.”

  We both stare at the vial.

  “That’s a good idea,” I say. “If you go, I want to go with you.”

  “Of course.” He places the vial in the top drawer of his desk. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  28

  Nolan’s friend is Dylan McCloud, and as soon as Nolan called, he told us to come right on down. Dylan’s a thirty-something handsome man with slicked-back hair—not one of which is out of place. He’s sitting, partially hunched, at his desk, looking through the clear plastic bag that contains the vial.

  “So you want to know what this is?” He looks at Nolan. The confidence in Dylan’s tone is comforting.

  “I do,” Nolan says.

  “Have any idea of what it might be?”

  Nolan shakes his head. “I don’t—other than my suspicion that it’s bad. Possibly very bad.”

  Dylan twists his mouth while raising an eyebrow. “In that case, I’d better be careful with it.”

  “Please do.” Nolan seems relieved that Dylan is taking his concerns seriously. “How long do you think it’ll be before you can get the results back to me?”

  Dylan narrows an eye, studying Nolan. “How soon do you need them?”

  “Like yesterday,” Nolan says without hesitation.

  “I’ll take it to the lab now. Hopefully I’ll have something for you before the end of the day,” Dylan says optimistically.

  The men shake hands, and Nolan and I leave.

  As we walk briskly down the hallway, I say, “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Nolan looks at his watch. “It’s almost noon. Let’s get to the Calypso and see what Kelsey has to say.”

  “Ugh,” I say, still wondering what she has up her sleeve. I’m not warm to the idea of her being back in our lives. She was so conniving and malicious before. But I sigh, conceding. “Okay.” I guess we’ll just have to see.

  We get to the café and go inside. Kelsey is already standing near the door.

  “I got us a table over there.” She points at a table already dressed with two cups of black coffee, three empty glasses, and a pitcher of water. She looks at me. “I wasn’t sure what you would be drinking. Would you like me to get you anything, Abby?”

  I smile pensively, wondering if this is just an act. “No, the water will be fine. Thank you.”

  “Terrific,” she says. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”

  Nolan and I follow her to the table and take our seats. I’m sitting next to Nolan, and Kelsey is across from him.

  Nolan leans toward Kelsey and asks brusquely, “Okay, so what’s this all about?”

  She looks at him as though she’s acknowledging his apprehension. “I understand how you must feel.”

  “Uh-huh,” Nolan murmurs.

  Kelsey takes a deep breath and sighs as if she’s accepted this is about as sweet as the moment is going to get. “First, I wanted to apologize about the whole business that went on after Bill died.”

  Nolan leans back, crossing his arms.

  “Secondly, I’m just going to get straight to the point—I want to sell all of my interest in North Star Holdings to you.”

  He snorts sarcastically. “Really?”

  “I don’t need them anymore,” she says as if she’s answering Nolan’s unasked question. “Look, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching.” She looks off thoughtfully. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that the only reason I was holding on to it was because I was holding on to you.”

  Nolan’s eyes remain trained on Kelsey as if he’s studying her for an excuse to justify his suspicion.

  “But I’ve let go of you, Nolan. And that means selling you what’s rightfully yours and moving on with my life.”

  Nolan tilts his head and studies her. “Are you still fucking with me?”

  She reaches down and removes a dark leather folio from the bag next to her chair. “Maybe you’ll find this a little more convincing.” She slides the folio onto the table.

  Nolan opens
it and views the contents.

  “I’ve had my attorney draft a preliminary agreement for a buyout,” she says.

  Nolan grunts while flipping through a couple of pages.

  “I think you’ll find the terms correspond to what Bill’s trust stipulates.”

  Nolan closes the folio and sets it back on the table. “I’ll have Pete and Doug take a look at it.”

  Kelsey stands. “I would expect nothing less. Now I must leave.”

  Nolan maintains his distrustful posture. “Well, if this real, then thank you, Kelsey.”

  She rolls her eyes and sniffs. “It’s real, and I’ll be waiting for you to get back to me.” She smiles at me. “Nice seeing you again, Abby.”

  “Likewise,” I say hesitantly.

  She turns and walks out. The door to the café closes behind her.

  Nolan leans toward me while watching Kelsey get into her car. The look on his face says he’s still in disbelief. “So what do you think?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I believe her.”

  He sighs forcefully. “It’s strange, but I do too. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Yeah…” I say with a sigh.

  “Hey, I’m hungry,” he says. “What about you?”

  I rub my belly “I’m starving.”

  “Good. Let’s eat.” Nolan moves to get up, and then he stops. “By the way, I have a nicely aged wine in the cellar at my dad’s house.”

  “Huh?” I say, wondering what that has to do with anything.

  “What you said last night at dinner, remember?”

  “Oh, about the wine for my mom. Yes.”

  He winks at me. “You’ll have turkey with mayo, right?”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  I watch him walk off, his disposition shifting toward pleased rather than disgruntled. Frankly, if this thing with Kelsey is real, then I’m happy for him.