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.