by MJ Duncan
Also by MJ Duncan
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Veritas
Spectrum
ATRAMENTUM
MJ DUNCAN
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Acknowledgements
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by MJ Duncan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior written permission from the author.
Cover art © 2016 MJ Duncan
Prologue
A knock on Joss Perrault’s office door after six o’clock at night always spelled trouble, after seven meant possible disaster, and after eight guaranteed some kind of catastrophe, so when a distinctive triple-knock hit her door at a few minutes before nine, she cringed and just prayed for the best.
“Joss, I need you to fly to New York to meet with Niall Reynolds.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Joss closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was career suicide to argue with Charles Rand, the founding partner of Rand, Royal, & Wilkes, and after nine years at the firm with a partnership lurking somewhere in the not too distant future, it would do her no good to lose her temper now. “Christmas is in two days, Charles. Surely this can wait until next week?”
He shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, looking entirely unrepentant, “but Niall is concerned about his company’s end-of-year accounts and you’re the only one I trust to make sure this is handled correctly.”
Yeah, because there’s no way in hell you’re going to screw up your trip to Kauai to deal with his obsessive-compulsive bullshit. “Charles…”
“I’ve had Ashley book you a seat on the red-eye out of LAX. You’ll be in New York by morning, and if you can talk him off the ledge fast enough, you’ll still get to Vail for the holiday.”
“Sky,” Joss corrected, shaking her head.
“Right. Of course…”
Joss ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Why do I keep dealing with this shit? she thought, even as she asked, “What time’s the flight?”
“Twelve-thirty,” he said, tossing a printed boarding pass onto her desk.
The paper landed on top of the files she had been trying to finish so that she could leave for Colorado the next evening for a day of some much-needed rest and relaxation, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she picked it up. At least they got me a seat in first class. “I’ll let you know when I’ve gotten this taken care of.”
“I know you will.” Charles smiled and nodded. “Good luck.”
“Yeah…thanks,” Joss muttered.
Once he was gone, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk, pulled out the bottle of Aberfeldy 21 she kept on hand for occasions such as this, and poured herself a generous couple of fingers of the smooth, amber alcohol. She capped the bottle and set it back in the drawer, and sipped at her drink as she spun around in her chair to look out the window. The public accounting firm of Rand, Royal, & Wilkes occupied the top four floors of a towering twenty-story building overlooking Marina Del Ray, and her corner office on the nineteenth floor provided a spectacular view of the marina below.
Joss rarely had time to appreciate the view her office location provided, but she did so now. The airport was thirty minutes from her condo, which was only two blocks away from the office, so she selfishly took this time for herself. She could not sleep on a plane to save her life—which was unfortunate, considering the number of red-eyes she flew—so she felt zero remorse about ignoring her work for a handful of minutes since she now had an extra five hours to finish the reports she had been working on when Charles shot her holiday plans to shit.
Sometimes I really hate this fucking job.
It was almost hard to believe that she had worked her ass off for so many years to climb to this exact position in the company. She had thought that building a successful career would make her happy, but as she watched a thirty-foot sailboat maneuver into a slip at the end of a crowded dock, the thought that she had been doing her best to ignore for the last few months floated across her mind.
What the hell am I doing?
Joss shook her head, dispelling the thought as she downed what was left of her whiskey. She set the dirty glass on her desk and grabbed the leather satchel her Aunt Helen had given her for Christmas two years ago—yet another holiday she missed because of work obligations—and began shoving the files she had been working on into it. She pulled the small file of notes she kept on Niall Reynolds’ company from the bottom drawer of the lateral cabinet beside her desk and added it to the pile. Any other documents she might need, she would be able to access remotely since the firm kept digital copies of all records.
“What else…?” she wondered softly as she scanned her desk. There was always something she could work on, but instead of grabbing any other files, she just shook her head and zipped up her satchel. Everything else could wait until after Christmas. Assuming she even actually made it to Sky, she would be back in her office on the twenty-sixth because the firm was only closed for Christmas Day—though, with this trip, it was looking like she would not even get those twenty-four hours to herself—so there was no reason to kill herself over it all.
Joss shouldered her satchel and shook her head as she glanced over her shoulder at the marina below. The view was as magnificent as it ever was, but she had never appreciated it less than she did in that moment. She flipped off the lights as she walked out of her office and made her way toward the elevators. A handful of tired eyes that looked up at her from the cubicles that anchored the center of the floor as she passed, and she silently offered up a small prayer that they would at least get to enjoy their holiday. The elevator doors slipped open as soon as she pushed the call button, and she shook her head as she stepped inside.
God, I hate this fucking job sometimes…
One
Of all the places Joss Perrault might have reasonably expected a life-changing conversation to happen, it was certainly not at the reception following her Aunt Helen’s funeral.
The resort town of Sky, Colorado was home to about five thousand residents, and though she knew it was impossible, it seemed like every one of them was packed into Atramentum—the bookstore Helen had owned and operated for over forty years. Joss had only been back to visit a handful of times in the last decade, and she regretted that distance as she struggled to put names to the familiar faces that offered her their condolences. It was nice, though, to see how many people cared enough to take time out of their own lives to celebrate Helen’s. Conversations were hushed, though laughter would occasionally ring out, adding a slice of levity to the otherwise subdued atmosphere, and Joss was certain that if Helen were somehow able to see them all now, she would be pleased. Helen had loved this bookstore more than anything in the world, and there was no more fitting a place for them all to gather in her honor.
Helen would have been happy with the proceedings, but Joss was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, and she took advantage of a lull in the tide of sympathetic well-wishers to sit down for a moment on the stool behind the front counter. Guilt that she had not managed to make it to Sky for Christmas four months earlier settled heavily in her stomach as she smoothed her hands over the lacquered pine, and she smiled sadly when one of Atramentum’s permanent residents hopped up onto the counter to look at her.
“Hey, Mist
er Shakes,” Joss cooed, petting the slightly overweight calico. Willy Shakes was the friendlier of the two cats that lived in the bookstore, and though he had been lapping up the attention from everybody who had stopped by the pay their respects, she could tell from the way that he kept looking at the door that he was waiting for Helen. “Sorry, bud,” she whispered, shaking her head. “She’s not coming.”
A light brush against her ankle drew her gaze down, and she sighed as she locked eyes with Dickens, Atramentum’s other permanent resident. The fact that Dickens was anywhere near her spoke volumes to how upsetting the situation was for the cats because the beautiful black tuxedo had never liked her, and had always avoided her like the plague. Of course, he did not really like anyone. He had been a standoffish kitten that had grown into a surly old man over the years, and if he had a voice, Joss had no doubt he would use it to yell at everybody gathered to “Get out of my bookstore!”
The phone in the front pocket of her pinstripe slacks buzzed with her thirty-eighth notification in the last four hours. Joss shook her head in disbelief, knowing without even having to look that it was her office.
She had not taken a single day off in the nine years she had been working at Rand, Royal, and Wilkes, but that loyalty and dedication was apparently not enough to earn her even one day of respite from frantic clients and demanding partners. She had spent the morning at the small desk in her hotel room with her MacBook powered up, tearing through files her bosses were convinced could not wait twenty-four hours for her to get back to the office. And as she typed out what should have been common sense answers to their questions, she was also on the phone, trying to reassure overanxious clients that the tax returns they submitted the week before were most likely not going to get audited because she was damn good at her job.
She had known when she signed with the public accounting firm that it was a field that took great pride in burning through the best and the brightest. She was the only one from her hiring class to make it past year three at the firm, but she was beginning to wonder if the promise of making partner was enough to justify working sixteen hours a day, six days a week—or longer, if a pressing matter came up—which left her no time for any kind of a life beyond the office. She had missed more events and holidays than she cared to think about because the firm had “needed her expertise” and, truth be told, she had been pushing herself through her growing feeling of burnout for the last seven months, hoping that it was just a phase and that it would eventually pass.
Her phone buzzed again, and she just barely resisted the urge to hurl it across the room.
From the moment she answered her phone Monday morning to learn that Helen had died after suffering a hemorrhagic stroke, she had denied herself any opportunity to mourn the passing of her only living relative. She had kept to her routine, staying even later than usual at the office every night because of the time she spent on the phone during the day arranging her Aunt’s funeral. She had given the firm everything she had over the last nine years, only asking how high when told to jump, and all she had ever asked for in return was that she be allowed this day to grieve.
And they could not even allow her that.
“Excuse me, Jocelyn?”
Joss forced a small smile as she looked up at a man who appeared to be in his mid-sixties, with wire-rim glasses and a salt-and-pepper beard that matched the thick mop of hair on his head. “Yes?”
He smiled and held out his hand. “Robert Harding. I recognized you from the pictures Helen’s shown me. I was her attorney.”
“Oh. Yes. Hello.” Joss got to her feet as she shook his hand. “Thank you for coming today.”
“It was my honor,” he assured her with a kind smile. “May I speak to you for a moment? Perhaps in the office?”
Joss nodded and led him through the stacks of books to the small office at the back of the store. She pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly as she stood in the doorway for a moment, looking. The desk was a jumbled mess of order slips and printouts and books that she had no doubt Helen had been in the middle of reading, and Joss felt a tug at her heart as she took it all in. She would have lingered longer, and was fairly confident that Helen’s attorney would have allowed her all the time she needed, but she had learned long ago that staring at the possessions of those she had lost and wishing they were still with her did nothing to bring them back. She cleared her throat softly and shook her head as she stepped into the office and leaned against the edge of the desk. Robert closed the door as he followed her inside, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face him. “What can I help you with, Mr. Harding?”
He set his briefcase onto the edge of the desk, pulled out a thin manila file folder, and turned to Joss. “I’m not sure if you’re aware or not, but you are the sole beneficiary of Helen’s estate.”
Joss sighed and nodded as she ran a hand through her hair. She had known, but she had been too preoccupied with balancing planning the funeral from a distance and her work to give her Aunt’s estate too much thought. “Yeah. She had me sign the paperwork a few years ago when she redid her will, but I’ve pretty much forgotten everything that was in it.” She shrugged sheepishly. “Can you just tell me what I need to do?”
“Well,” Robert said, flipping the file folder open. “For starters, there are Atramentum and her cottage out by Pine Lake. There are also various investment accounts that you will need to decide what to do with.”
“Right…” Joss groaned as her phone buzzed again. “I’m sorry.” She pulled it out of her pocket and powered it off—something she should have done hours ago. She tossed it onto the desk and shook her head. “My work is…” She grit her teeth and swallowed back the burst of rage that flashed through her. “Rather demanding.”
“Yes, Helen always worried about you putting in such long hours,” Robert confided.
“Yeah. I know.” Joss smiled sadly. “She was always telling me that, too.”
Robert nodded. “As for things here, basically, if it was hers, it is now yours. Helen owned both the cottage and this property free-and-clear, and while there’s no real rush to decide what you want to do with the cottage—you can always choose to keep it as a vacation house or use it as a rental property—the business is another matter. I know you’re busy and undoubtedly overwhelmed at this point, but you do need to decide what you want to do with Atramentum.”
“Right…” Joss massaged the back of her neck as she weighed her options. A soft scratch at the door drew her eyes up, and she brushed past Robert to open the door for Willy Shakes, who had followed them.
Dickens was perched atop the nearest shelf staring at her, and she waited for a moment to see if he was going to join them, but when he laid his head down to make himself comfortable, she groaned under her breath as she closed the door again.
Forget the properties—what was she going to do with the cats? Her condo building in Los Angeles had a strict no-pets policy, never mind the fact that she worked too damn much to properly care for Willy Shakes and Dickens.
Hell, as it was, she barely had time to take care of herself.
She could always try to re-home them. She was sure that there were plenty of people who would be willing to adopt Willy Shakes, and that there might even be a few brave souls who would also adopt Dickens so the brothers would not be separated.
Willy jumped onto the desk, his front paws connecting with her phone and sending it sliding toward the edge, and Joss just watched it tumble to the floor, not really caring what happened to it.
Even though she knew the plush rug under the desk would have more than sufficiently cushioned the phone’s fall, a part of her hoped the stupid thing shattered on impact. She had no doubt that it would come screaming to life with a barrage of alerts when she powered it up again, and just thinking about everything she would have to deal with made her cringe. Honestly, in that moment, if she had a choice, she would never turn the damn thing back on at all. She had tried to work through
her burnout, but she felt its suffocating presence even more strongly now than she ever had before.
I can’t even get twenty-four hours to myself for my aunt’s fucking funeral…
Her gaze drifted to a framed photograph beside Helen’s open laptop, and she bit her lip as she picked it up.
Though she could not remember when the picture was taken, she knew by the shaggy pixie style of her hair that it was taken the summer before she graduated from UCLA because she had begun growing her hair out during her senior year. Her and Helen were laughing at the front counter here at the store, the floor around them littered with open boxes of books waiting to be shelved, and Joss swallowed back a pang of guilt that she had not visited more often after she graduated. Helen had understood, of course, and had come out to California during the off-seasons to visit, but she should have made more of an effort to get back here. Joss sighed as she smoothed her thumb over the glass, sorry that she could physically touch the happy moment that had been captured on film.
She had been so eager to escape Sky and make her life somewhere else that she had honestly forgotten how much she enjoyed helping Helen with the store. Had forgotten how much Atramentum had given back to her after she had lost everything. Yes, she had built a life for herself in Los Angeles—a successful, stressful, lonely life—but as she looked down at the messy desk and the fat cat watching her, she knew that the life she had built for herself was not the one she wanted any more. She had been edging closer and closer to this point for a while, and the opportunity to come back to Sky was just too sweet to resist. “And if I decide to move here and take over Atramentum?”
