He shrugged. “I’ve received a couple of those letters, but figured they were spam since I’d never heard of them. You know, one of those ‘we’re filing a class action lawsuit, and you could win a whopping five dollars’ kind of thing.”
She arched a brow and handed the letter over. “They are definitely not that kind of firm. They do all my estate planning.”
He eyed her, as if she might be teasing, then took the letter. Sliding his finger under one edge of the flap, he tore it open and removed a single typed written sheet.
She studied his eyes as he read. He scanned the text once, twice, then a third time. “James?”
His gaze lingered, then lifted to meet hers. Without a word, he handed the paper over.
Dear Mr. Church,
Twenty-five years ago, your grandfather entrusted my father with his estate management needs. My father passed away eight years ago, and while he closed out or transferred all of his client matters to other attorneys in his office, out of the great respect he held for your grandfather, he asked me to handle this one matter.
Per the terms of your grandfather’s will, I can only disclose the particulars of his estate in person. We’ve been trying to reach you for six months, both by phone and through mail and email, but to no avail. I hope that this letter, which is morepersonal in nature than the others previously sent, will spur you to reach out to me.
My father was Joseph Jefferson, and he had a small private practice in Trenton, New Jersey. He and your grandfather served in the army together and remained friends until your grandfather’s death. I remember their weekly poker nights growing up, along with Carl Washington and Isaac Higgsby.
Again, I hope this is enough to persuade you that this is a legitimate request, and I do hope to hear from you as soon as you receive this letter.
Best,
Henry Jefferson, Esq
Partner, Marrick, Garrison, & Wheeler
Like James, Daphne reread the letter, but only once more before looking up. “Do you have any idea what this is about?” she asked.
His gaze remained fixed on the fire, but he shook his head. “My grandfather was a janitor. I can’t imagine what kind of estate he had. If any.”
“When did he pass?”
“I was twelve,” he replied, sorrow mixed with happy memories laced his tone. “I was named after him.”
“You were close?”
He nodded. “My mother had three kids by three different fathers. I’m the youngest. I only have vague memories of my dad, but he wasn’t a good man. He was killed in a drugstore robbery when I was six, but his father, my grandfather, was an anchor. Everything his son, everything so many of the men surrounding me, wasn’t. He worked hard, had a tidy little apartment, volunteered at the local homeless shelter in our neighborhood. He was known for his story time. He loved reading to kids. To adults, too. To anyone interested in hearing.”
He took a sip of his coffee, then rested the mug on his thigh, his hands curled around it. “He’s the reason I kept my head down and stayed out of trouble,” he continued. “I had a role model that so many kids around me didn’t. Just by living his life, he showed me a different way. A life with dignity and purpose.” He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I was devastated when he died. The one good thing in my life was gone. At least that’s how it felt at the time. As the weeks and months, then years, passed, I realized that education and sports provided an anchor as well. Not like my grandfather, but enough to keep me focused on building a life different from what was in front of me.”
“That must have been hard,” she said, her voice quiet with emotion. She didn’t need the details of his exact circumstances; she knew enough about the kind of neighborhood he described. The kind of neighborhood where the options were frequently limited to joining a gang or dying. The former didn’t preclude the latter, but the latter was almost a certainty if you didn’t choose the former. To have had someone like his grandfather show him that a different life was possible was a rare and precious gift.
A dark chuckle rumbled from James’s chest. “I’ll never forget the glee my mother and siblings took in his death. With age and experience, I recognize they were jealous of my relationship with him. I had something good and true in my life that they didn’t. At the time, though, they laughed at my pain, they tried to use it against me, tried to drag me down with them.”
She had to smile. “I’m guessing it did the opposite?”
He grinned, the curve of his lips holding a hint of gratitude toward her for seeing what his family hadn’t. “It did the opposite,” he agreed. “He became this almost mythic figure in my life as I grew older. Someone who guided me, helped me discern right from wrong. All from beyond the grave.”
“And now he has something to give you. From beyond the grave,” she said, handing the letter over.
He took it, then slowly folded it. “I can’t imagine what it is. Like I said, he was a janitor after he left the army.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said.
He hesitated, then nodded. “It’s Sunday. I’ll call first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s go see Ryan, then your sister, then stock up on food before the next storm comes.”
She doubted the fact it was Sunday was the real reason for putting the call off. To be so suddenly reminded of someone who meant so much to him had to bring up all sorts of emotions. That he was a man his grandfather would be proud of, she had no doubt. But the reminder that the older James would never see what kind of man his beloved grandson had grown into carried a weight thatherJames needed to assess and adjust and get comfortable with before stepping even further into his memories.
“I could use a shower before we head out,” she said. His head whipped around, his eyes catching hers, dilating with desire.
