The Hope Chest - Carolyn Brown Page 0,1

taste always took him back to that terrible moment.

“Flynn O’Riley?” a masculine voice asked from the end of the booth.

“That’s me,” Flynn said, glad for the interruption that put an end to the sad memories.

“Paul Jones, Lucy O’Riley’s lawyer.” He stuck out one hand, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose with the other.

Flynn shook with him. “Pleased to meet you. Nessa and April should be here soon.”

“I’m a little early,” Paul said, “and I’ve got a lot of papers for you grandchildren to sign. Would you mind if we moved to that table”—he nodded toward the other side of the café—“to give us more room?”

Flynn slid out of the booth and followed the short gray-haired man across the room. Paul took a seat at the head of the table, pulled one of the extra chairs around to sit beside him, and put his briefcase on it. He flipped it open and began spreading out papers in three stacks.

A waitress came from a booth full of ladies, laid two menus on the table, and asked, “What can I get you guys?”

“Coffee and a cherry fried pie,” Paul answered, but he didn’t look up.

“Just coffee for now,” Flynn answered. “Maybe something to eat after we take care of this business, and we’ll need another menu or two by then.”

“Sure thing.” The young girl left smiling and returned in a couple of minutes with their order and extra menus.

“I’ll wait until your cousins get here to go over all this”—Paul motioned at the stacks with a flick of his wrist—“but I can tell you that Lucy’s son Isaac didn’t have a leg to stand on when he protested this will. All he did was prolong this day for six months. It had to be tough on Vanessa to take the stand against her own father. I wondered why you and April didn’t show up then. But most of all, I’m wondering why you’re here today, since I’m sure Vanessa told you the details of the will and the court proceedings.”

“I don’t know about my cousins, but I need a month away from my lifestyle to get some perspective. But if you’d have asked me to testify back then, I would have been there. Nessa and I couldn’t find April at that point, so she probably didn’t even know there was a will or that Uncle Isaac had contested it. He probably thought being a preacher put God on his side.” Flynn chuckled.

He’s not on my side, that’s for sure. I need this month away from women. Away from my father. Away from myself, he thought.

“Blossom is a good place to get away from everything, for sure, and you’re right about Nessa. The Reverend Isaac was pretty full of himself in court, but Vanessa proved him wrong. He was pretty angry when things didn’t go his way. I’ve wondered if it caused a split between him and his daughter.” Paul nodded and changed the subject. “I love the cherry pies in this place. And their hot dogs are amazing.”

“I’m a burger man myself,” Flynn said.

“They’re pretty good, too,” Paul agreed.

“I really thought Uncle Isaac would convince the judge that Nanny Lucy was out of her mind when she made her last will. He’s very persuasive and usually gets what he wants. But Nessa is tough. I imagine that she did fine without me and April to back her up.” Flynn looked up as the door opened and was glad to see that April had arrived with Nessa.

“She sure did.” Paul nodded.

Flynn was only five feet, eight inches tall, but Nessa was even shorter. Her curly red hair was pulled up on top of her head, adding about three inches, with springy curls going every which way. She marched across the floor with the same no-nonsense expression he remembered her having when they were kids. The sunlight coming through the window lit up every one of the hundred freckles on her square face, a face the same shape as Nanny Lucy’s. He hadn’t seen Nessa since Nanny Lucy’s funeral six months ago, but his cousin hadn’t changed a bit. She gave the impression that she could spit in a charging bull’s eye without hesitation.

April was a different matter. She was only four months younger than Nessa, but she looked ten years older. She’d always been tall and thin, but today her clothes hung on her like a burlap bag on a broomstick. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, but a few

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