I put up a hand. “Oh no, I’d never ask you to do that.”
She shook her head, dismissing my protests in one smooth move. “Shush, you. I know this household like the back of my hand. I also know where your mother keeps everything. It will be faster for you if I help. And the first thing you need is Barry Foley. He’s your parents’ lawyer, and his number is in your mother’s book. Once he comes and looks over all their paperwork for you, you can get started with whatever needs tocome next.” She moved off to my mother’s study, presumably to get her book.
I pulled out a mug and poured myself some coffee. It had been, what, almost two years since I last saw Mary? She had to be in her late sixties now, but she’d looked essentially the same since I was small. Her short stature and roundness had always given me comfort. We kept in touch through monthly letters when I left for college and hadn’t ever stopped. Mary wasn’t a fan of technology, so pen pals was the option I was left with.
I’d stopped in Madison when I came back from Africa, checking to see if my parents would want to be part of my life now that I was back. I thought I knew what their response would be but wanted to give them a chance. Why, I had no idea. I think most of my life had been spent hoping against hope that they’d become what they were not—loving parents who wanted the best for me.
I had still been let down—my original instinct was correct. They’d declared they weren’t supporting me since I was “insane” enough to stay in this “charity work” instead of making real money at my dad’s firm. Their words, not mine. Trying to explain to them that I didn’t want their money, didn’t need it, was fruitless. I just wanted them to care about what I was doing, to be part of my life. To them, money equaled their “love.” I’d been crushed—it had felt like a final nail in the coffin. Not a great way to put it now, but there you go. But Mary had understood my broken heart and had sent me off to Highland Falls with my favorite brownies of hers and a hug to tide me over until her letters began again, closer to home now, to remind me that someone was proud of me even if my parents weren’t.
What would she do now that my parents were gone? Did she have enough money set aside to retire? I hated the idea of her working some job she didn’t enjoy.
Hearing someone enter the kitchen, I looked up, assuming it was Mary, only to see Jules with a tentative look on her face.
“Hey,” she said with a sleep-softened voice. I could tell she wasn’t sure of her surroundings. To be fair, even though this was my childhood “home,” neither was I. It certainly wasn’t the type of place that made you want to sit down and relax. Instead, it inspired you to sit up with your best posture and mind your manners.
Jules’s dark hair was tumbling over her shoulders in waves. Her “pajamas” consisted of black leggings and a crazy-big graphic tee. Reading it, I bit back a smile. It saidRead romance, fight the patriarchy.Her feet were bare with dark polish on her toes. That seemed to be an intimate detail I shouldn’t know, but then again, we’d slept in the same bed. Heavy emphasis on slept.
“Hey, did you get enough sleep?” I immediately moved to grab a coffee mug for her. I held it up, wordlessly asking if she wanted some.
“Sure,” she said, reaching for it, but I stepped around her to fill it up. I felt an inherent desire to take care of this woman, foreign to anything I’d experienced before.
“Let me,” I murmured as I grabbed the pot. “We don’t have the makings of a vanilla latte here.” I thought of her order at the Sanctuary. “But there’s creamer and sugar.”
I turned to pass her the filled mug to find her staring at me in wonder. “You remembered my order?”
“Sure,” I replied, not certain why that would make her eyes well up, but I’d take it.
Instead, she shook her head like waking from a dream, took her coffee, and put it on the counter to my side. Then, with uncertainty positively pouring off her, she stepped to face me and slid her arms around my waist. I had to admit, just holding her made me breathe easier. I relaxed into her embrace, sliding my arms around her as well.
“What is this for?” I murmured to the crown of her head.
She squeezed her arms around me, then spoke into my chest. “You lost your parents.”
I shook my head at her kindness, frankly more than they deserved to have directed their way. That sounded terrible, but it was the reality I’d long accepted. Likely I needed to look up a therapist and process some of this shit, but for the most part I felt okay with my mental state. Whether that would hold true as I processed, who knew.
“Jules, you are beyond kind, but I’m doing all right. I promise. Sad, sure, but as I said, at least this wasn’t themchoosingto separate themselves from me. In many ways, that was harder.” I stepped back and looked down at her, tipping her chin up so she’d meet my gaze.
Her warm brown eyes met mine. “I feel like you have more to process here.”
I gave her a small smile. “I have zero doubt that you’re right about that. And when that happens, I’ll work through it. But for now I’m fine.”
She studied my face like she was searching for the truth. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it because she gave me a decisive nod before putting her head back on my chest. We stood there in companionable silence, and I felt a peace that was unfamiliar to this space. I could only assume it was due to the presence of Jules, and maybe the fact that I wasn’t bracing to be told I was a disappointment—which was its own mindfuck.
“Noah, I found— Oh—” Mary’s reentry into the kitchen was accompanied with her dropping something on the floor, causing Jules to spring back from me like we were teenagers who had just been caught making out. In Jules’s defense, I hadn’t warned her to Mary’s presence, so she hadn’t known anyone was in the house.
“Oh, I’m…” Jules stuttered, clearly not sure what to say to this grandmotherly-looking figure in a work dress, staring at us with a pleased expression on her face. If I could see into Jules’s brain, I was certain she was running through all the possibilities of who Mary could be.
“Jules, this is Mrs. Doyle?—”
“Mary,” she said. Stubborn woman.
“My apologies,” I gave Mary an indulgent shake of my head and smiled at her. “Mary, Jules. My parents would have been lost years ago if Mary hadn’t taken charge of their household. She runs this place.”
Jules put her hand out, but Mary wasn’t having any of that. She walked up to Jules and pulled her in for a hug. “Come here, sweet girl. You’re going to need to tell me why I found you in our Noah’s arms. Then we’re going to conspire against the man and take care of him while we figure out what is to be done after his parents’ passing.”
Jules let out a laugh and looked from Mary to me, her eyes twinkling. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
“Oh boy,” I said, grateful for the lightness of this moment. “I think you two together equals trouble.”
