River looked down at his work attire, then frowned. “I can postpone my shower for this, sure.”
“All right,” McMillan didn’t seem pleased, but maybe that was just the obvious stick up his ass.
The man sat on one end of the couch, and River moved the pizza boxes to the other end, so McMillan had a spot for his briefcase.
I went back to my chair.
“Drinks, anyone?” River asked. “I need coffee.”
“Uh, sure, I could go for a cup,” McMillan replied. “Thank you.”
“Me, too,” I added.
Rey wasn’t big on coffee, but he liked tea a lot. Sadly, he wouldn’t be coming out of my room anytime soon with a stranger in the apartment.
Once River announced the coffee was ready, McMillan and I went around the couch to the kitchen—it really was a small place—to fix our mugs. The corner of McMillan’s mouth twitched at the sparkly unicorn mug River pushed his way, and something about that relaxed me. Maybe the guy’s stick was bendier than it first seemed?
The thought made me snort, and River gave me his patented best friend expression ofcontain yourself, man.
We all sat down, River on the other end of the couch from McMillan.
“So, I’m sorry I haven’t been taking your calls,” I started with the obvious. “It’s just…my family…”
McMillan frowned. “Right. Your aunt told me about that. For what it’s worth, I don’t condone such actions. Nobody should be discriminated against based on something like sexuality. I have friends who work solely with the LGBTQ+ community, and I’ve heard stories about what can happen with families like yours.”
River made a surprised little sound, and McMillan smiled slightly.
“I knew Ruth personally. She had some…stories.”
“Knew?” I asked, even though I knew what was coming.
“Right, Mr. White—”
“Call me Lake, please.” I leaned forward, clutching my mug.
McMillan made the face that all bad news deliverers do. “Ruth passed away just over a month ago. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“How’d she die? She was young, wasn’t she?” I asked, trying to do the math.
My dad was in his early fifties and Aunt Ruth had been his big sister.
“She was fifty-seven.” McMillan seemed genuinely sad when he said, “And nobody knew she had a congenital heart condition, until…after.”
“The autopsy?” River asked, wincing as he glanced at me.
“It’s not like I really knew her,” I reminded, and both River and McMillan relaxed.
“Right. She’d been complaining about shortness of breath lately, but since it’s springtime, she said it was likely allergies, but…” McMillan sighed. “At least she passed in her sleep.”
“That’s good. The way I’d prefer to go.” River smiled sadly.
“So what’s this about?” I gestured at the briefcase and a thick folder of papers McMillan had in his hands.
For some reason the man glanced around the apartment, then looked at me. “There’s no easy way to say this, but…Ruth left you everything.”
I gripped the mug harder so I wouldn’t accidentally let go. “Come again?”
“She left you Twin Star Rescue and all the rights to her novels.”
