Sunset on Moonlight Beach - Sheila Roberts Page 0,89
from the fire and it made her think of beach parties and roasting hot dogs.
And then the memory of the last beach party they’d had hit her full force and she wanted to start crying all over again.
“I don’t like to drink alone,” she said as she settled next to Seth on their usual log.
“You’ve been around people all day. I’d think you’d want a minute to yourself.”
She shook her head and took a sip of wine. “I don’t want to be by myself.” The fire was a spot of light in the darkness and she needed it.
“Where’s the house...where’s Green?”
“He left.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to spend the night?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. She took another sip. “I feel like a shipwreck victim.”
“I’m not surprised.” He threw another log on the fire, and sparks flew up like fireflies.
They sat for a moment, saying nothing, the only sound the crackling of the burning logs and the whoosh of waves kissing the shore.
Jenna finally spoke. “Thanks for singing today.”
“I was happy to. I liked your aunt.”
“Everybody liked her.”
“So, a life well-lived.”
“It was.”
“Not sure you can ask for more than that.”
“You’re right. I just hate...” She stumbled over a sob. “I know it’s stupid, but I feel so alone in that house.”
He held up her left hand so she could see the ring as a reminder. “Not for long. You’ve got a new beginning ahead of you, got your family and friends. You have a good life, Jenna. You’re on solid ground.”
She took a shaky breath and nodded. “Why do I feel like I’m on sand?”
“Well, you are at the beach.” The firelight played over his face and she could see the shadow of a smile. He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll be okay.”
She nodded. “I will. Thanks for reminding me.”
They didn’t say any more. Instead, they sat side by side and watched the fire burn itself out.
When she finally went to bed, she slept soundly. She woke up thinking she’d dreamed about Aunt Edie, but she couldn’t remember what the dream was about. She could only remember her aunt saying, “I love you.” It was enough.
* * *
The day the will was to be read, Jenna came down to the kitchen to find Sabrina making breakfast. “Aunt Edie’s pancake recipe,” she said to Jenna.
Jenna gave her a kiss and a one-armed hug. “Wouldn’t Aunt Edie love to see you now. She’d be so proud.”
Sabrina got teary-eyed, but she smiled. It was a relief to see her daughter smiling. “I figured you’d need a good breakfast today since you’re going to the lawyer’s.”
Oh, yeah, that. Jenna sighed inwardly. The last grim piece of death business. Thinking about hearing the reading of the will made her feel like a vulture.
Winston, who was back in town and staying once more with her long-suffering, generous mother, had also been summoned to the law offices of Williams and Weaver, along with Jenna, Celeste, and Pete, and appeared perfectly happy to be a vulture.
But not necessarily happy for Jenna. “I suppose she’ll leave you the Driftwood,” he greeted her as she walked in with Celeste and Pete, making it sound like a crime to do so.
“I suppose so, since she promised to,” Jenna said.
“You always were her favorite. I don’t think she liked boys that much.”
At least not one in particular. Jenna said nothing to that.
Edward Weaver’s secretary offered them coffee, which Winston was more than happy to accept, and then settled them in a conference room with a big table surrounded by rolling leather chairs.
Next in was Patricia Whiteside, Aunt Edie’s executrix. She hugged Celeste and Pete and Jenna. “I want you to know all I’m doing is carrying out Edie’s wishes,” she said to Jenna.
“Of course,” Jenna said. What did that mean?
“A sad gathering,” Winston said somberly after introducing himself to Patricia. “But at least we’ll have something to remember Aunt Edie by.”
“Not immediately,” she told him. “It can take up to six months or even a year for a will to clear probate.”
“A year,” Winston repeated, shocked.
“Mr. Weaver is sure in this case it won’t take that long, but you should plan on at least three months,” she said.
“Oh. Well, it’s not about things, anyway,” Winston said.
Liar, Jenna thought in disgust.
Next came Edward himself. He was a short man with a wide girth, a balding head and glasses.
“I see we’re almost all here,” he said.
“Who are we missing?” Jena asked. “Was my mom supposed to be here?”