Inked Obsession (Montgomery Ink Fort Collins #2) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,14
close to the front. I sighed and ran my hands over my linen pants and top, figuring I looked good enough.
Bracing myself for whatever mood they were in, I walked in. They were already there, halfway through their first drink. At least, I hoped it was their first drink. I was only five minutes late, but that meant I was an hour late in military time.
Beverly looked up when I walked towards them and gave me a smile. “Oh, we were worried about you. We were just about to call.”
I leaned down, kissed her cheek, then did the same to Clarence’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.” I didn’t offer an excuse. Telling Beverly that I’d been held up by work, distraction, and by Beckett Montgomery wouldn’t matter. I was late, and there was no excuse. Even my parents had hammered that into me.
I sat down across from Beverly and next to Clarence and smiled as the waiter brought me a glass of peach Bellini.
“This was pre-ordered for you. I hope it’s okay,” the waiter said.
I smiled at him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” I looked at my in-laws. “Thank you.”
“No worries, we know you love Bellinis. So do we.” Beverly smiled and took a sip.
I did the same, letting the fruity sweetness settle on my tongue. I did love Bellinis. Marshall had hated them. He’d never liked anything mixed into his drinks. I always found it funny, but that meant that I never had to ensure that mine were safe from him like Beverly had to do with Clarence. If Beverly didn’t drink quickly enough, Clarence would take the rest of hers and finish it off. I always thought it was cute, and the two laughed about it, but I never had that with Marshall. Marshall always had his own drink.
“How’s work going?” I asked, and the two looked at each other and then at me.
“It’s going just fine,” Clarence answered. They owned a small advertising firm and were slowly on their way to retirement. I was honestly shocked that they were still working as hard as they were, and they’d only worked harder after Marshall passed. Then again, so had I. We all needed to do something.
I’d always found it hard to find a connection to the places I lived rather than the people I left behind. I’d never stayed in place for long, and it wasn’t until marrying Marshall that I’d begun to grow roots. Before moving to Colorado, the place I’d stayed the longest had been Texas, but that hadn’t felt like the home I had now because of the connections I had made. I didn’t have anyone in Colorado other than my found family, the one I had made, and Marshall’s parents.
“We’re doing well,” Beverly added. “We’re working more because we need to fill another savings account,” she said.
I blinked at the tone of her voice, wondering what I was missing. “Is something wrong with your retirement? I know the stock market had a little dip, but I didn’t think it had affected everyone.”
Marshall’s parents gave each other a look, and I set down my drink, foreboding sliding up my spine and settling in my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“We have a few things to discuss with you,” she said softly and cleared her throat.
“Is something wrong? Are you guys okay? Oh, no. Do you need money for something for your health? Talk to me.”
She let out a sigh and tapped her fingers on the table. When the waiter came to take our order, she waved him off, and the foreboding just clung harder.
“We’ve been keeping something from you, but I don’t know how much longer we can hold back.”
Nausea rolled over me, and my hands shook. “Are you sick?”
She shook her head. Clarence did the same.
“No, but there is something you need to know,” Clarence said after a moment.
Beverly rolled her shoulders back. “Marshall has a daughter.”
I blinked, trying to understand exactly what she had just said. Because that aching feeling in my body and over my heart couldn’t be real. I must have misheard. “What? Marshall has a what?”
My heart raced, and bile filled my throat. This didn’t make any sense. Marshall was gone. He couldn’t have a daughter. I didn’t have a daughter; therefore, he didn’t. I had to be missing something, even though that sense of darkness hit me harder, and it felt as though the floor had been torn out from under me, and I was falling.