Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Forty-Five

Mazzy

I’m working on a painting upstairs in the guest bedroom I’ve turned into a small art studio when the doorbell rings, and I frown. I’m not expecting anyone. Nick left for the gym a few minutes ago, but I opted to stay home because I’m really getting somewhere with this piece. If he’d forgotten something, he’d just use the code to get in.

I set down the paintbrush and walk down the stairs to the front door. The figure is blurred behind the frosted glass door, so only after I open the door do I realize it’s Harold, the family lawyer.

I haven’t been in touch with him lately. The six months is up next week, and I still haven’t figured out what I want to do as far as Pembrooke Financial is concerned. I haven’t spoken to my dad since I left his office that day, even though he’s called and texted numerous times. I keep telling him I need more time.

Harold better not be here on behalf of my father or we’re going to have problems.

The other reason I haven’t wanted to acknowledge the end of the six months is because Nick and I have been actively avoiding the conversation that needs to happen between us as well. In a week, I might not be living here at all, although I hope that’s not the case.

For my part, I don’t want anything to change, and I think Nick feels the same. But there’s a difference between thinking you know what someone wants and hearing the answer from them.

“Harold, how are you?” I lean in and do the air-kiss thing. “Come in.” I step back and motion for him to enter.

“Hi, Mazzy. Sorry to just drop by like this, but I needed to speak with you in private.” He looks over my shoulder into the house. “Are we alone?”

I nod. “Yeah, Nick’s at the gym. Come into the living room.” I walk into the room where we spend most of our time. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

He waves me off. “No, no. I won’t be very long.”

My forehead wrinkles. I wonder what this could be about. “Okay.” I sit on the couch and gesture for him to sit in the armchair across from me. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I just have something for you, and I promised your grandfather I’d hand deliver it.”

My stomach lurches. This must have something to do with the will. “Hand deliver?”

“Yes.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out an envelope. He holds it out to me. My name is written across the front in what I recognize as my grandfather’s scrawl.

Seeing something so personal from my grandfather makes my eyes burn with unshed tears as I take the envelope. I look at the letter in disbelief then back at Harold. “He wrote me a letter?”

He nods. “But before you open it, I want to say something. I have no idea what’s in the letter. Your grandfather wanted me to give this to you a little less than a week before the six months were up. He wasn’t sure whether that would be five years from now, in a decade, or right away but…” He shrugs.

“Okay, but I get the sense there’s more you want to say.”

“There is.” Harold smiles. “As you can imagine, I’m well aware of everything going on at Pembrooke Financial Services. It was the impetus for your grandfather changing his will right before he died. Your father came to see me about certain matters that you know about as well.”

I finger the edge of the envelope, anxious to see the words my grandfather wanted to share with me from beyond the grave. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because one thing I know for sure is that your grandfather loved you and he trusted you to do the right thing—whatever that is to you. That’s why he left almost everything to you. So no matter what you decide to do, or what that letter says, just know that he was proud of you.”

I dab the corners of my eyes with my knuckles to stop tears from falling. I try not to think about my grandfather too much because it feels bittersweet. I’m happier than ever in my new marriage, but it only occurred because he’s not here to see it.

I hold the letter to my chest. “Thank you for coming out here to deliver this to me.”

“You got it.” He stands from the chair. “If you need anything else, let me know, but I have a feeling we’ll be chatting next week anyway.” He winks and walks away. “I can show myself out.”

Normally I’d see him out like a good host should, but all I’m fixated on is this letter. I take a deep breath and rip the seal on the envelope before pulling out a piece of folded paper containing my grandfather’s handwriting.

My dearest Mazzy,

You’re probably wondering what the old fella is doing sending you letters from beyond, but rest assured my reasons are plenty. You see, my dear, I know how your mind works. Or at least I hope I do. I also know your father.

If I’m right—and I’d bet my fortune I am, though that’s yours now—I’m sure you know what’s going on over at Pembrooke Financial. Your father came to me for money and I denied him. When I left you my vast fortune, I banked on the fact that he’d do the same to you.

But you’re like me, always good at sniffing out when something doesn’t feel right and equally as good at asking questions to get to the bottom of it. You probably now know that your father screwed the pooch.

I didn’t leave you everything as a way to get back at your father. I love my son, even if he does make the wrong choices sometimes. I left you everything so that you would be the one to decide his fate, and by extension, the fate of the company.

Perhaps it’s too late. Maybe too much time has passed, and you didn’t get married right away. Though my assumption is your father asked you to find a husband and you’re probably married already because you love your father. But if I know you like I think I do, I’m betting you thought of the marriage pact you once told me about when you were younger and you reached out to Nick Ryan. If that was the case, hopefully he was smart enough to get his head out of his ass. I always liked you two. You made a great team, and you had the foundation of friendship to guide you, the same as your grandmother and I did.

If you didn’t and you ended up marrying some idiot like your first husband, I’m sorry. You know I never did really like him.

What I really want to say here is that I trust you to make the right decision. Know that whatever you decide, if I were still there, I’d support you fully.

All my love,

Grandfather

A tear dripsonto the paper.

I wipe my cheeks and fold the letter back up before sliding it back into the envelope.

Three months have passed since I discovered the truth and I still don’t know what to do. I’m even more confused now after reading Grandfather’s letter.

One thing is clear though—I can’t continue to put off everything. Decisions need to be made. Not only for Pembrooke Financial and my father, but for Nick’s and my marriage too.