“First, please call me Trish. May I call you Maeve?”
“Vee is good. Thank you, Trish.” I flexed my fingers, feeling the ache that Fin said would be worse today.
“Very well. I’d like to hear more from you about what you’re seeking and together we can decide if we’re a good fit.”
I leaned back against my leather chair. “As you’re aware, my father, Reid Hubbard, died recently in an automobile accident.”
“I am and I’m sorry. How are you doing?”
“Thank you.” Her question threw me off, filling my eyes with moisture. The only other person to ask how I was doing was Fin. “I’m not sure how I’m doing. There hasn’t been time to fully process what happened. It feels like I’m a snowball rolling downhill, faster and faster, collecting more snow as I go.”
“Everyone processes their grief in their own way.”
“I’ll deal with that when I have time. Right now, I have concerns about various issues surrounding my father’s death. First, his estate. My father had talked about changing his will. He had a new will drafted but never signed it. His last will and testament was signed over twenty years ago and leaves everything to me.”
“You are his only child.”
She hadn’t asked a question, but I answered, “I am. He also left behind a wife.”
“Not your mother?”
“No. His widow’s name is Daphne Hubbard. They’ve been married for over twenty-two years.”
“And she’s not mentioned in your father’s will.”
“She’s not. There’s something else. Last night, a Kentucky state trooper and a detective came to my house. They said they were investigating my father’s accident. The company who owns the truck that caused the accident is contesting the original findings. They’re claiming it wasn’t the truck driver’s fault but my father’s.”
“Vee, I’m happy to represent you. I haven’t seen any numbers, but I would assume your father’s estate is valuable?”
“I haven’t seen the numbers either,” I confessed, “but from what I understand it is.”
“It isn’t uncommon that wealthy individuals and businesses are sued, if they think there could be a payday. Let me look into this.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“While I’d like to meet in person, we don’t have to wait for that. Once I receive a retainer, I will officially be your personal attorney.”
“Let’s get that done.”
My mind was scrambled with too many fires.
Sipping coffee and weeding through my emails, I remembered the picture the detective showed me the night before. The small intricate pillbox was exactly like one I’d had for years. I couldn’t understand how or why my pillbox would be in Dad’s car.
The pillbox wasn’t unique. Maybe we both had the same one.
I looked in my leather bag again, as if I could have missed the pillbox last night. It hadn’t miraculously appeared. Getting up, I went to my attached bathroom and checked the vanity drawers as well as the medicine cabinet.
The more I thought about it, the less I could recall having the pillbox. Usually, every spring I would swap out the old Benadryl for new. It was now the middle of October, and my memory was blank.
A knock at my office door garnered my attention seconds before Jen popped her head inside. “Coach Pratt is here.”
“Send him in.” I walked back to my desk.
Drew Pratt came through the doorway wearing a Coopers workout suit. The jacket was unzipped, showing a black Dri-FIT shirt beneath.
“Hey, Vee.” He furrowed his brow. “What happened to you?”
“Car accident. I ran off the road and the airbags won.” I grimaced as I took a seat. “Drew, what can I do for you?”
