The Will

by Kristen Ashley

  It was far less formal attire than his suit of the day before but, oddly, it suited him far better.

  Far better.

  His eyes hit me.

  My lips (expertly lined, filled and glossed, though some of that was now on my coffee cup) parted and my stomach twisted in a knot.

  “I have something happening,” Ms. Baginski said into the phone. “It won’t take long. I’ll call you back later.”

  She said this and I ignored it for I was watching with rapt attention as that man walked into the office. Thus, I was also watching when he came to a stop several feet from the back of the chairs. And thus, I could feel the full force of the fact that the office wasn’t big but we could be in an amphitheater and his overwhelmingly male presence would fill the space.

  “Finally, we can get started,” Ms. Baginski stated. “Ms. Malone, do you know Jake Spear?”

  I slowly rose from my chair, turned to him and started to move around the chair, lifting my hand, doing all this finding myself in his overpowering presence unable to speak.

  I saw him lift one of his mighty paws as I walked toward him thinking I was not petite but his hand would engulf mine when he took hold of it.

  Something about that made my skin feel funny, like I wasn’t comfortable in it or it needed soothing attention.

  And it was on this thought the point of the toe on my shoe caught on the thick pile of the overlarge rug that covered the office carpet (for some odd reason) and I stumbled.

  This happened frequently. I found it annoying and, regardless of how cute Gran found it or how amusing Henry did, I detested it.

  I detested it more that I’d done it in front of that man.

  I couldn’t think on that, however. As I flew forward, I felt my hand caught in a firm grip even as I brought up the other one to brace me wherever I was to land.

  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Mr. Spear moved quickly at the same time he jerked the hand he held. Therefore, instead of landing on the floor or staggering across the rug, I hit him.

  As in hit him.

  My temple collided with his collarbone, my forehead banged against his jaw and my shoulder crashed into his arm.

  His hand holding mine lifted both of our hands up his chest, gripping tighter as I felt his other arm round me at my waist, pulling me against him so we were fit snug together, my forehead in his neck.

  Up close, I saw his neck was more muscled, his throat more corded then either looked from afar.

  Dazedly, I tipped my head back and saw he was tipping his down.

  Yesterday, he was clean-shaven.

  This morning, he had not shaved and he had a dark shadow of black and silver stubble on his jaw.

  This also suited him.

  Greatly.

  My eyes caught his and I noted three things instantly.

  One was the fact that he had unusual gray eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was unusual about them except for the fact that they were alarmingly attractive.

  He also smelled good. I’d inhaled the scent of a variety of men’s colognes but not one was that alluring. It was, as was everything about him, aggressively masculine, assaulting my senses, making it hard for me to breathe.

  And last, his body was far bigger and more imposing than it was from a distance.

  And it was very hard.

  “You all right?” his deep voice rumbled. I heard it and felt it, and I blinked.

  It was then I remembered to be mortified and to keep my distance.

  So I pulled at his hold and I felt his arm around me and his hand in mine strangely tighten for a brief moment before he let me loose at the waist. I moved away half a foot but not further as he kept hold of my hand.

  “Steady?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “My apologies,” I went on to murmur, putting pressure on my hand as an indication he should let it go.

  He didn’t let it go.

  “Not a problem,” he muttered, his lips quirking with amusement. “Obviously, you’re Josie.”

  My back went straight because no one called me Josie.

  No one but Gran.

  “Yes, Josephine Malone.” I put significant stress on my proper name. “Lydia’s granddaughter.”

  This got me another lip quirk and a, “Know that. Heard a lot about you, Josie.”

  I was not certain this was good.

  “Now that you’re here, maybe we can get started. I have a full day and this delay has put me off my schedule by half an hour,” Terry Baginski butted into our exchange, her voice terse, like Mr. Spear and my taking a moment to greet each other was exhausting her patience.

  Of course, he had been late, though he had also called (albeit tardily) to explain he would be. But he was the reason we were delayed.

  Therefore, I wasn’t certain what came over me when that woman spoke those words.

  Perhaps I was feeling embarrassment at tumbling into this man. Perhaps it was the fact that I’d laid my beloved grandmother in the ground the day before and that hadn’t exactly been fun. Perhaps it was because I didn’t sleep very well after sobbing myself into that state the night before.

  Or perhaps it was because this woman had not been polite at all since my arrival at her office. An arrival for a meeting to hear my beloved grandmother’s will read. Something I didn’t want to do as it was another in a barrage of constant reminders Gran was no longer of this world, I was going to miss her, I was facing a lifetime of missing her, and Ms. Baginski should have a mind to that.

  But, for whatever reason, it came over me.

  Therefore, I pulled at my hand and Mr. Spear released me as I turned to Ms. Baginski and stated, “I’ve no idea how you can be behind seeing as you were delayed in meeting me in reception. Not to mention, since that time you’ve not let Mr. Spear’s late arrival deter you from continuing with your work even though a long time client’s granddaughter was waiting and she wasn’t even offered a magazine to occupy her time.”

  I moved carefully to the chair, bending to grasp my trim, patent leather fuchsia handbag that I’d tucked into the side. Primly seating myself, I continued to speak.

  “As this occasion is not a happy one, I won’t speak for Mr. Spear as I don’t know him.” I crossed my legs and looked to her. “But I, for one, would like to see this unfortunate business concluded. So, yes, please. If we could finally get to the matter at hand, I would be grateful.”

  Her mouth got tight. It didn’t look good on her but then again, nothing really did and this had very little to do with the fact she didn’t know how to arrange her hair or do her makeup and everything to do with the fact she was a genuinely unpleasant woman.

  I didn’t look at Mr. Spear.

  I tucked my handbag in my lap and waited.

  I felt Mr. Spear take the chair beside mine as Ms. Baginski moved behind the desk, stating, “Then we’ll delay no further.”

  “As I’ve been here over half an hour, I would find that agreeable,” I replied.

  She cast a baleful glare in my direction.

  I returned it coolly.

  I heard Mr. Spear emit a strange (though not unattractive, alarmingly) grunt that sounded partly amused and partly surprised.

  I ignored him and held Terry Baginski’s glare.

  She looked away first and started fiddling with some papers on her desk, saying, “Let’s proceed.”

  I decided I’d made my point so I let that one go.

  She upended some papers, tapping them on her desk and her gaze moved from me to Mr. Spear to the papers.

  “Mrs. Malone has a legal and binding document outlining her wishes as to what is to become of her property and possessions upon her death. However, she’s written a letter that she explained she’d like read instead of that document during these proceedings,” Ms. Baginski began. “It outlines these wishes in a more succinct way.”

  I said nothing.

  Neither did Mr. Spear.

  “Therefore, as Mrs. Malone bid, I shall
read her words,” she went on.

  I took in a deep breath in order to prepare to hear Gran’s words.

  Without delay, Ms. Baginski started to read.

  “I, Lydia Josephine Malone, being of very sound mind and annoyingly questionable body, due hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions to my granddaughter, Josephine Diana Malone. This includes Lavender House, its outbuildings, the entirety of their contents and the land on which they sit. This also includes the funds in my checking and savings accounts as well as the certified deposits held at Magdalene Bank and Trust. It further includes the contents of safe deposit box six-three-thee, also at Magdalene Bank and Trust, the key to which can be found in my desk in the light room at Lavender House. And last, it includes the funds in the investment accounts managed for me by the advisors at Magdalene Bank and Trust.”

  I listened thinking that Lavender House and the two acres on which it sat, right on a cliff, right on the coast, its vast contents, its sheer size and its location made all of it undoubtedly worth some money. That said, Gran had not lived frugally but she was also not a spendthrift.

  We’d never discussed money, she never seemed to need it, she never overspent it, so there was no need. Therefore, my assumption was, when I spoke with the employees at Magdalene Bank and Trust, I would find Gran’s holdings not meager but also not extravagant.

  I didn’t care either way.

  Whatever was at that bank, none of it was Gran.

  I additionally listened wondering, if she bequeathed all this to me, why was Mr. Spear there.

  “That is,” Ms. Baginski went on, “I bequeath everything but one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. This will be provided to Mr. James Markham Spear in order that he put it in trust, fifty thousand dollars each for Connor Markham Spear, Amber Joelynn Spear and Ethan James Spear.”

  Well, that explained that.

  And that also shared that Gran’s holdings might be more extravagant than I thought.

  “Jesus Christ,” Mr. Spear muttered into my thoughts and my eyes slid to him.

  He was staring at the papers in Ms. Baginski’s hands and I could tell he was equally surprised at Gran’s holdings, not to mention her largesse.

  Surprised and moved. His expression was clearly startled.

  It was also soft.

  And last, it was very attractive, that softening of his hard features.

  At this thought, I pulled in another breath.

  “Jake,” Ms. Baginski continued and I looked back to her, wondering why she said this name. “I’ll leave it to you to invest wisely, as I know you will. However, the kids shouldn’t see this money until they’re twenty-one. That is if they remain in university until that time. If they don’t go to school, I’d rather they not have it until they’re twenty-five. We both know this would be prudent, especially considering how enamored Amber is with purchasing her cosmetics and those platform shoes.”

  It sounded like I might have something in common with the unknown Amber.

  Also, apparently, the man beside me was known familiarly to Gran as “Jake.”

  But listening to this, and hearing the amount Gran bestowed on who I knew were the three young people I’d seen with Mr. Spear yesterday at the funeral, I again found it strange, as well as disturbing, that I had not heard of Mr. James Markham Spear or any of his children.

  “And last,” Ms. Baginski carried on. “My most precious possession, the thing I treasure above anything else in this world, that being my granddaughter, Josephine Diana Malone, I hereby bequeath to James Markham Spear.”

  After these words were read, unprepared for them and even if I had been, I would still be unprepared for them mostly because they were just plain mad, I gasped.

  James Markham Spear muttered a rumbling, amused, “What the fuck?”

  Terry Baginski didn’t even look up. She kept reading.

  “Jake, my Josie is quite awkward and I don’t mean simply that she’s a complete klutz, though she is that as well. I find it adorable and I hope you do too. She’s also aggravatingly tidy, so I do hope you’ll teach her how fun it is to be a slob once in a while. Further, she doesn’t know how to enjoy herself, and I’m sure,” Ms. Baginski put a strange emphasis on this word before she went on, “you’ll be able to teach her how to do that and do it well. But under all that, she has the kindest soul you’ll know, the lightest touch you’ll feel, and, if you find your way to coax it out of her, she gives off the sweetest light that will ever shine on you. I’m trusting you, my Jake, in my absence, to take good care of her. But even saying that, I know you will.”

  I was blinking rapidly.

  Ms. Baginski was finishing up.

  “Those are my wishes and I will them to be done. And just a warning, if they’re not, I’ll know and it’ll make me very upset. I know neither of you want that. Now, be blissfully happy my Josie and my Jake. That is my final, most important wish. Please do what you can to give that to me.”

  Terry Baginski quit reading and looked at us.

  “Did Lydie give me you in her will?”

  This came from my side and it was no less rumbling or amused. In fact, it was far more rumbling and amused, and slowly, my breath coming in fits and starts, my head turned his way.

  Yes, he was amused. I knew this because he was smiling a large smile, his even, strong white teeth stark against his dark stubble.

  My stomach again twisted in knots.

  “Obviously, the bequeathal of a human being isn’t binding,” Ms. Baginski put in and I thankfully tore my gaze from Mr. Spear and looked to her. “This bestowal, however,” she continued, “is also in the legal document. Regardless if it isn’t binding, the rest of it is.”

  She picked up a legal-sized manila folder and plopped it across the desk my way.

  “Copies of Mrs. Malone’s official last will and testament,” she carried on, pointing at the folder. “The letter I’ve just read, and information about deeds and the like are in that folder. Should you not desire to join us here in Magdalene, there’s also contact information for Stone Incorporated, a firm that has approached Mrs. Malone in the past to share they’re interested in purchasing Lavender House.”

  What did she say?

  Someone had approached Gran to buy Lavender House?

  Gran hadn’t told me that either!

  “That folder is yours to take,” she announced, her eyes on me, and she stood but did it leaning forward, hands on her desk. “Now, if there aren’t any questions…” she rudely uttered a thinly veiled prompt for us to stop wasting her time.

  I had a million questions, of course, none of which I spoke because I didn’t act fast enough.

  “Paper isn’t legally binding but blood is,” Mr. Spear declared and I looked his way to see he was addressing Terry Baginski.

  “I’m sorry?” Ms. Baginski asked.

  “Words on paper might not be legally binding.” His gaze came to me and his voice deepened as he concluded, “But blood is.”

  I found my chest rising and falling rapidly as he held my eyes and the meaning of his words assaulted my ears.

  “You can hardly think you can own a woman, Jake,” Ms. Baginski snapped dismissively.

  “Own her, no,” Mr. Spear stated, his eyes still holding mine captive. “Do precisely what Lydie wanted me to do with her, yes.”

  Oh my God.

  The way he said those words sounded suggestive.

  Very suggestive.

  My breathing grew even more rapid and additionally it became erratic. I decided to ignore the suggestive part of his words and focus on something else.

  “Gran was…she was…” I searched for a word and found it. “Protective of me.”

  “I’m gettin’ that seein’ as she left me you in her will in order to keep that shit goin’ on,” he replied and my back again went straight.

  “I’m quite capable of seeing to that myself,” I informed him.

  Something shifted through his features so swiftly I couldn’t catch the meanin
g of it before he whispered, “Not from what I hear.”

  At that, I felt my eyes get big.

  “What has Gran told you?” I inquired sharply.

  “With respect, could I ask that perhaps you two continue this conversation elsewhere?” Ms. Baginski requested. “I actually do have other business to see to today.”

  I thought that was an excellent idea. Not continuing the conversation. I was quite done with this conversation. Instead, I wanted to get myself elsewhere.

  Therefore, I jumped to my feet and sensed Mr. Spear rising to his. But I didn’t sense his hand coming my way as if to spot me should I tumble.

  I saw it.

  When I did, my eyes slashed his way. “I’m adept at rising from a chair, Mr. Spear,” I snapped.

  “Just bein’ careful,” he muttered, studying me and doing it grinning.

  Albeit attractive—his voice and his grin—I found both annoying.

  I didn’t share that.

  I looked from him to Ms. Baginski. “Is there something I need to do in order to get the funds my grandmother wished to be put in trust for Mr. Spear’s children to Mr. Spear?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t as I intended to leave that office and Mr. Spear behind and never see either again.

  Terry Baginski shook her head. “No. Mrs. Malone has already made those arrangements. This office will take care of that money transfer.” Her eyes went to Mr. Spear and she warned, “And Jake, you’ll need to report this gift to the IRS.”

  “No shit?” he asked and it occurred to me in a vague way that they seemed to know each other and not get along.

  Or, at least, Ms. Baginski didn’t like Mr. Spear all that much.

  This didn’t concern me.

  Escape concerned me. That as well as dealing with Gran’s estate and getting to Rome (or Paris) as soon as I could.

  In order to see to these things without delay, I secured my handbag on my shoulder, reached out and took the manila folder, saying, “If that’s in order, I’ll thank you for your time and be on my way.” I looked up to Mr. Spear. “Although Gran didn’t mention you, it’s clear she held a high regard for you and your children.”

  He didn’t let me finish. He butted in to say (still grinning, I might add, and the way he said it sounded almost teasing), “Yeah, Josie. She held us in high regard.”