Kristen Ashley - The Will

He hesitated a moment before he said, “Okay, girl.”

I took in another breath, let it go and told him, “It feels lovely that you care.”

“Josephine, every time I hit a red carpet, still think, whatever bitch I got on my arm, she’s not you. Class, straight up. Outside, ice cold. Shit-hot ice cold, but still ice cold. Inside, so fuckin’ warm…beautiful. You don’t give me that, I dig. That’s not in you. Don’t mean I still don’t wish I had it. It also don’t mean I can’t give you what I can give back. So you need anything, you call. I’m there. You hear me?”

And yet again, I was knocked on my ass.

Winded.

Because this was very nice, very sweet and very unexpected.

I knew he liked me. I knew he was attracted to me (that, during our night and even before, and if I was honest, also after, was absolutely not in question).

I just didn’t know how deep it ran.

Even winded, I replied, “I’m with you, Amond.”

“Right, your ass is back in LA, it’s also at my house. I’m cookin’ for you and listenin’ to you talk about your Granny.”

I smiled. “We’ll plan that.”

“Right, beautiful. Now lettin’ you go.”

“Thank you for calling, Amond.”

“You got it. Later, Josephine.”

I said my farewell and we disconnected.

I again felt warm.

I also felt strange. It wasn’t a bad strange. It also wasn’t a good one. It was like I was missing something, was supposed to remember something, but I couldn’t call it up.

I attempted to call it up, staring at the gray sea and sipping tea when the house phone rang again.

I sighed, put my tea down and went to get the phone.

“Lavender House,” I greeted.

“Josephine?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Boston.”

I closed my eyes in frustration.

I opened them and started, “Mr. Stone—”

He interrupted me. “I’m not calling about Lavender House. I would assume, after the things your grandmother shared with me about how she felt about the house, and that you shared those sentiments, that you’ll not be selling the property. I’m calling to ask you out for dinner.”

Good God, what was happening?

Luckily, I had a truthful reply that was also a negative one. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I have plans.”

“Please call me Boston.”

I said nothing, unsure I could address a man by such a name.

“The night after,” he went on.

“I’m having dinner with Reverend Fletcher and his wife.”

“Monday night, then.”

I sighed.

“Josephine?” he called when I said nothing after my sigh.

“Mr. Sto…erm, Boston, I mean no offense, but at this time, I’m not looking for romantic entanglements.”

“That’s understandable,” he said gently, his smooth voice going suave. “However, I’ll take this opportunity to remind you that at times like these, any entanglements are more enjoyable than those likely occupying your mind.”

This was true.

Even so, I didn’t want to be entangled with him.

But before I could utter a word, he unfortunately continued.

“And you’re an exceptionally beautiful woman. So much so that it’s prompted me to act outside good manners to take my opportunity to make certain you understand I’d like to get to know you.”

“That’s very flattering, um…Boston. But—”

He interrupted me again with, “A drink.”

I wasn’t following.

“I’m sorry?”

“Not dinner. A drink. I’d offer to collect you but I feel you’d be more comfortable meeting me so we’ll do that. At the Club. I’ll give them your name at the gatehouse. Monday night. Seven o’clock.”

I sighed.

The Club was the Magdalene Club, an exclusive club that had once simply been a gathering place for the haves of Magdalene where they could go and commune with other haves while not having to mingle with the have-nots. Over the decades, they’d added a dining room to their bar and I’d never been there but Gran (and others) had told me it was quite excellent fare and had a lovely view of the sea.

I also had a lovely view of the sea from a variety of windows in my own home but I had the feeling that Boston Stone was not to be put off. Not Magdalene’s most eligible bachelor.

Unless I put him off face to face.

Which I would do over a drink.

“Fine. Monday. Seven o’clock.”

There was a smile in his voice when he replied, “I’ll look forward to that, Josephine.”

I didn’t share this sentiment so I made no reply.

“See you then,” he said.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Try to have a good rest of your day.”

“I will, Boston. You too.”

“I will. Good-bye, Josephine.”

I gave my farewell, disconnected and decided not to answer the phone again that day.

I also decided not to think of a drink with Boston Stone, going to have it solely for the purpose of telling him I was not interested, as this would irritate me and I wasn’t in the mood to be irritated.

But I did this remembering why I didn’t get tangled up with men. They could be extremely irksome.

I turned my mind from that to my chair and my tea and in sipping it, my mind turned to something Henry said.

And in doing so, my body moved out of the chair and I set the tea aside again.

Slowly, I moved through the house to the den and entered Gran’s room.

I had not remade the bed. This was because I had a mind to returning that room to its rightful state as a den and, being in it, that was what I decided to do as soon as humanly possible.

I didn’t want a reminder that Gran got to the point she couldn’t enjoy all of Lavender House to its fullest, something she did even being there for decades all on her own.

But more, I didn’t need a reminder that was where she ended her days.

I then moved to the wardrobe she’d had put in there.

I opened the doors and saw her clothes.

I took one look, closed the doors and exited the room. My throat had closed. My eyes got blurry. My mind had blanked. And in this state, I made my way back to my chair in the family room.

And my phone.

Without even thinking, I picked it up, found the number and dialed.

I got five rings before I heard, “Spear. Leave a message.”

“Jake?” I said after the beep. “Josephine. I…would you, well…when you have a moment, could you call?”

I didn’t say good-bye before I disconnected.

Then I stared at the phone wondering why I connected in the first place.

Not having the answer to that, or perhaps not wanting an answer to it, I moved to the kitchen to refresh my tea.

By the time I was moving back to my chair, trying to think of what else to do that day, anything to keep my mind off a variety of things that I didn’t want to think about, coming up with nothing but sitting in that chair and staring at the bleak landscape thinking about those variety of things, my mobile rang.

I snatched it up immediately and hit the screen to connect.

I did this thoughtlessly and inexplicably.

But I did it because the screen declared Jake was calling.

“Jake?”

“Josie, you okay?”

“I…” God! What was I doing? “I…Gran’s clothes,” I stated stupidly and said no more.

“What, honey?”

“I went into the den,” I explained. “Gran’s clothes. I…there’s no reason to keep them. Someone can use them. And I-I-I need the den to be a den again. I can’t think of her…I don’t want to remember what happened…” I swallowed and concluded, “I wish it to be a den again.”

Not even a second passed before he replied, “Don’t think about the clothes. Don’t even look at the clothes. I’ll deal with the clothes. And I’ll talk to some guys. Get them over there. We’ll deal with the den.”

At his words, warmth swept through me so immense I had to sit down in the chair.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the phone.

“Not a problem, baby.”

I closed my eyes as more warmth swept through me at his deep, sweet, soft voice.

“I…uh, I won’t keep you,” I said.

“You’re good. Anytime you need to call, do it.”

And more warmth.

“All right.”

“You okay now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I gotta work but you need me to swing around tonight? Have a beer? Talk?”

It was then I knew.

I knew.

This was what Gran wanted for me and this was what Gran gave to me in giving me to Jake Spear.

I just couldn’t understand why she kept it from me before.

“I’m fine, Jake. That’s very kind but really, I’m okay. I just had”—I hesitated then admitted—“A moment”

“You have any more of those I’m a phone call away.”

Yes.

This was what Gran wanted for me.

“Thank you, Jake,” I whispered.

“Any time, honey,” he whispered back. “You okay for me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

“Later, Slick.”

That nickname sent a jolt through me, taking me out of the moment. I opened my mouth to say something about it but got out not a sound.

He’d disconnected.

Thirty seconds after Jake rang the bell to Lavender House, Josie opened the door.

And when she did, Jake froze.

“Hello, Jake,” she said. “I’ll just get my coat.”

Jake didn’t move.

This was because the vision of her was burning itself on his brain and he was enjoying the feeling.

Then she turned and he got her back.