“Hello, Bennett.” Nia entered the marbled foyer, which was adorned with the same flowers that were on Nan’s coffin, and removed her coat. The cloying sweetness in the air caused her stomach to churn as she handed her outerwear over. “This is Lore.” She introduced the silent angel.
Bennett nodded and shut the door, handing the coat to a maid who popped out of the woodwork. “Mr. Landry is in the study. I’ll show you?—”
“Thank you, Bennett, but there’s no need. I’m sure you have a lot to see to with the reception.” She straightened her jacket over her pants.
“Yes, Ms. Nia. I will see you later, then.” He inclined his head and departed on silent feet.
God, she really wished she didn’t have to be there for the reading. Whatever Nan had done, she wanted no part of it. The pressure inside her skull grew as she traversed the endless corridor with its vaulted ceilings, black-veined, gray marble floors, antique furniture, and flowers everywhere. She rubbed her aching temples.
“Are you okay?” Lore asked softly.
She lowered her hand, smoothed her cold fingers down her fitted jacket, and nodded.
Not like she could ever tell him the truth about her dysfunctional family. Heck, maybe he already knew everything—about that foolish little girl, starved for affection and holding out hope through the years, until finally, she moved out of the mansion at eighteen. Alone and unloved.
She turned left at the back of the mansion and stopped at a dark wooden door. She cast Lore a quick look and lowered her gaze to the undone top button of his shirt. “I don’t think he’ll allow you in for the reading.”
“You’re not going in there alone. Leave him to me.”
Her gaze rushed back up to his. With his features set in nonnegotiable lines, arguing was pointless. His eyes softened a fraction, and her heart thumped painfully.
She pivoted for the study door. “Then, I better get in there and find out why he wanted me here.”
Nia opened the door and entered the study.
Steve Landry looked up from some documents, his open briefcase set on the mahogany desk. He was a stick of a man, a suit on a coat hanger.
“Ms. Deveraux.” He nodded in greeting, setting the papers down. His attention slipped behind her, and he frowned at Lore.
“This is Mr. Landry, my grandmother’s attorney,” she told Lore.
Landry opened his mouth, then blinked, shook his head as if he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say, and indicated for her to take a seat.
It was the last thing she wanted, but she did, keeping her expression cool.
Lore moved to the window, probably to get a better view of the proceedings, and folded his arms over his chest, his attention nailed on the attorney.
“This won’t take long.” Landry shuffled through some papers in a file, but Nia didn’t pay him any notice, her gaze settling on the series of photos on Nan’s desk. A few were of her women’s group, and there was one of her parents. Her handsome blond father and her dark-haired, Creole mother, whom Nia had taken after. But none of Nia herself.
She wasn’t surprised. This was Nan’s private space, so why pretend that the granddaughter she barely tolerated was important to her?
“I’ll keep this brief,” Landry said. “Your grandmother, Cora Deveraux, left you?—”
“I don’t want anything.”
Landry blinked, the only break in his usually calm demeanor. He continued, “She left you a letter.”
Nia narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“A letter. Once you read it, we can proceed.”
“Why?”
“You will find out once you read it.” He slid the long envelope toward her.
Nia eyed it, a sense of dread taking hold. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if it contained a spell that would turn her to stone or something. She picked up the envelope and slit it open with the letter opener Landry handed over, then removed the single sheet of paper.
Since you’re reading this, I’m six feet under or contained in a cement vault,”the letter stated.“Well then, let us not waste time. As per my son’s, your father’s request, I became your legal guardian when they both died while you were still a child. My estate is vast, and I will not leave it to an obstinate girl who cannot manage her own life.
