was what I planned to say when I walked into her office without an appointment. I had no plans beyond that. I couldn’t even think about what I might say, or how I might ask her.
Valentina: Good luck with the attorney today, and have a safe flight home later. Let me know what train you’re on in the morning, and I’ll pick you up. I have a little surprise for you.
I stared at my cell like the words were gibberish. There was no way I could possibly text back. Instead, I shoved the phone into my pocket. I just needed to get this shit over with.
I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.
A woman about my age was sitting behind a reception desk. She smiled. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Ummm. I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping maybe I could speak to Marie.”
“Can I ask what this is in reference to?”
“I’m considering buying a building in the area, and she did some work for my father on it previously.”
“Oh. Okay.” She motioned toward a closed door to her left. “She’s with a client right now, but she should be finished any minute. As soon as she gets done, I’ll ask her if she can speak with you.”
“Thanks,”
“Can I have your name, please?”
“Ford. Ford Donovan.”
If my last name meant anything to the receptionist, she didn’t show it. She told me to take a seat, and I sat on a leather couch and pretended to thumb through a copy of Architectural Digest. A few minutes later, the door to Marie’s office opened. My heart, which had already been beating fast, took off like a runaway train. An older man in a suit walked out first, talking to someone behind him.
“I think once we send over these last revisions, they’ll finally sign the contract,” a woman’s voice said.
I still couldn’t see her.
“Good. Good. I’m anxious to get this all behind me.”
The man took a few steps, and the woman who’d been speaking appeared in the doorway.
“I’ll be in touch soon.”
Seeing her for the first time, I froze. What the hell? I knew her. But from where? I flipped through a mental rolodex of where I might’ve seen her before. I was absolutely positive we’d met. But I’d never come to Chicago.
The client made his way to the front door, and the attorney took a few steps toward the receptionist, who turned to speak to her.
“I didn’t want to interrupt since you were almost finished with Mr. Wetson, but you have a walk-in.”
Marie looked over to the seating area for the first time. I stood. The minute her eyes landed on me, her entire face changed. Her jaw dropped open, her eyes drooped with sadness, and all of her color drained away.
Completely oblivious, the receptionist kept talking. “You’ve done some work for his family before. He doesn’t have an appointment, but you have a half hour before your next one.”
That pale, sorrow-filled face—it clicked. The funeral! She’d come to my parents’ funeral. That weekend was mostly a blur—there had been so many friends who came and went. For two days, I’d spent the majority of my time standing and shaking people’s hands. I couldn’t have repeated what anyone had actually said if my life depended on it.
But I remembered seeing her. She’d been sitting on a chair in the back corner all by herself, crying. She’d looked really distraught, so I’d gone over to see if she was okay. It was the first time I’d met her, but that didn’t strike me as unusual. People came out of the woodwork to give their condolences at the funeral.
I walked over to where Marie stood, still staring at me. The receptionist turned as I approached. “Oh. Here he is. Marie, this is….”
Marie smiled sadly and shook her head. Her voice was solemn and her tone resigned. “I know who he is. Hello, Ford.”
I nodded, unable to say anything.
Marie tilted her head toward her door. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”
I nodded and followed her inside. She closed the door after telling the receptionist to cancel her next meeting and hold her calls.
Walking around to the other side of her desk, she held her hand out. “Please, have a seat.”
I kept staring at her even as I sat.
She settled into her chair and shuffled some papers that didn’t need shuffling on her desk. Speaking softly, she said, “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
She nodded. “Good. I’m glad to