Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I swallow thickly. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford it by the time we were done and had already written it off before she asked if I wanted to have a cup of tea with her. I of course said yes, because she had this energy around her that just felt good.” I take a deep breath to keep from choking up. “We spent an hour talking over tea, and when I was about to leave, she told me what the rent was for the apartment and asked me if I wanted it. I signed the lease right then and there and started moving in that night.”
“Okay, so she fell in love with you over tea.” He squeezes my hips, where his hands have come to rest.
“Yeah, but that feeling was mutual.”
His face gets soft, and I know if he continues to look at me like that, I might cry, which is something I’ve been doing a lot this last week. Too much actually, and I hate it. I hate feeling like nothing is in my control, and all I really want to do is just hide in bed and sleep until things are normal again.
I fall against him, resting the side of my face on his chest under his chin and close my eyes.
It’s been eight days since Mrs. Lewis passed away, and five since I attended her funeral with Walker after finding a card taped to my apartment door, letting me know when and where she would be put to rest.
It sucked. I hated watching her casket being lowered into the ground. And the dark cloud that was already hanging over everyone seemed even bleaker from Officer Taylor’s presence. Him standing stoically away from everyone gathered did nothing but add to the questions that were on all of our minds.
Like me, Josh’s mom is worried, because if someone was willing to harm an innocent old woman, who knows what else they’re capable of. And it’s not helping that Officer Taylor still hasn’t given anyone any information. He hasn’t even admitted if he thinks something sinister happened, which is probably more frustrating than anything.
“What time are you supposed to meet with Mrs. Lewis’s family today?”
“2 pm.” I keep my eyes closed. I don’t even know what the meeting is about. All I know is Josh’s mom, Kate, called me after getting my phone number at the small reception she had for her aunt and asked me to meet her and the family at the house this afternoon. Something I’m not even a little excited about doing. I’ve only been back to my apartment twice—once to get Mizzy and another time to pack up a few more things I needed for work. And each time I’ve gone over there, I couldn’t get out fast enough. “What time is it?”
“1:15.”
“I should start getting ready,” I mutter but make no move to get up—not that he seems in a hurry to let me go. After giving myself another few minutes, I reluctantly leave the safety of his embrace, where the outside world and none of my problems exist. I change into a pair of jeans and a sweater then I add a little makeup and run a brush through my hair as he gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Henley.
When we reach Mrs. Lewis’s house, there are already people gathered inside, and Kate asks us all to come upstairs to the apartment.
An overwhelming wave of sadness washes over me when we’re all ushered into the living room where Mrs. Lewis and I would occasionally have tea, and I cling to Walker’s hand a little tighter as we find a spot to stand in the corner of the room.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Kate says, standing just inside the doorway, her eyes scanning over each of us. “You are all here, because my aunt cared deeply for each of you.” Her voice sounds strained, like she’s trying not to cry. “My aunt’s lawyer, William, has been going over things since her passing, and today, he’s going to read part of her will that pertains to each of you.”
I look around. The room is full, with some people standing and others sitting on the couch and in the two chairs on the opposite side of the coffee table. Every single person looks as crushed as I feel. Except Josh, who I find with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face that is directed at the floor.
“Hello,” an older gentleman greets, wearing a gray, wrinkled suit, as he walks through the doorway with a leather folder in hand. His stark-white hair is a mess, like he just woke from a nap. “Mrs. Lewis had her will updated around six months ago, so the version I’m reading today is up to date.”