a really good time,” I answered, lowering my gaze to the ground, a familiar burn rising to my cheeks.
Please don’t ask me about Jack. Please don’t ask me about Jack. Please don’t ask me—
“Do you think getting salmonella is super easy or super hard?” Eddie asked, changing the subject of our conversation. “Not that I’m worried about Sean getting salmonella! Because I’m definitely going to cook these eggs perfectly… eggs are the ones that give you salmonella, right?”
Oh.
Even though I’d been hoping against Eddie asking me any questions about Jack, a part of me was deflated by the way he’d changed the topic. From what I was able to tell, Eddie rarely backed away from controversial conversations, often offering his opinions on Parker’s personal life even when Parker hadn’t asked for any feedback.
The thought of Eddie backing away from a potentially invasive conversation with me, made me think that maybe he just wasn’t comfortable enough with me yet.
Or maybe he still didn’t see me as his brother, despite the fact that I’d been at the Bed & Breakfast for months now.
“Eggs are the ones that give you salmonella,” I answered, my tone devoid of any emotion, my deflated-ness seeping into my response. “But if you cook them right, you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”
9
Jack
Harrington & Associates.
I stared at the sign on the door as I waited in the upscale lobby, complete with a brand-name coffeemaker seated on an elongated desk, with brand-name coffee pods left out for the guests. I’d taken the law firm up on their unvoiced offer of brand-name coffee, and as I sipped on my drink, I took the time to glance around the room.
This place reminded me so much of Harold.
It was clearly well taken care of, without even a hint of dirt on the ground. But it was also incredibly unnerving and sterile, with muted shades of gray on the wall, and the receptionist at the front desk wearing what seemed to be a uniform that consisted of another shade of lifeless gray. It was almost like the law firm wanted to give the impression that color—that joy—weren’t welcome through these doors, and the feeling seemed to permeate every last corner of the building.
Of course, my father had picked this place to represent him. Of course, my father had picked this place to execute his will. Nothing made more sense than Harold picking the one law firm in Park City that he knew would’ve made me uncomfortable with its utter resistance to imagination, seemingly in all forms. With that, Harrington & Associates and my father had one thing in common, an utter disinterest in art, self-expression, or warmth.
“Mr. Jack Timms?” A woman with a serious look on her face pushed open the office door.
“That’s me.” I raised my hand before I rose from my seat.
“Welcome to Harrington & Associates,” she said, pulling the door open even further, motioning for me to step inside her office. “I’m Olivia Porter.”
By the time that I’d followed her direction, stepping into the room, she’d already closed the door behind me and headed back to her place behind her oversized desk.
“I was sorry to hear about your father,” Olivia started as she slid down into her office chair. She lifted her glasses, a pair that hung around her chest on a necklace, right up to her face. “He was one of my favorite clients. We had his business for several decades. Although, I’m sure he never mentioned us over dinner. Most clients never do.”
“Sorry. I don’t think he did,” I replied before I let out a loud sigh. “But to be fair, there were several things my father never mentioned over dinner. Mostly because we rarely had dinner together, so he didn’t really have the opportunity.”
“Hmm. Estrangement.” Olivia nodded. “That would explain the peculiar nature of his will, then.”
“The peculiar nature?” I slid down into the seat in front of Olivia’s desk and linked my fingers together on my lap.
“Well, it was written almost like you had no idea what you were in for,” she explained. “Almost like there was going to be a knowledge gap, whenever it was time for you to come in and see us.”
“He was right,” I admitted. “I… honestly don’t know anything about his financial life, much less his personal life, especially near the end.”
“Well, Mr. Timms, there’s always the good and the bad,” Olivia replied. “Where would you like to start?”
“The good.”
“The good is that your father was smart enough to leave you