Page 31 of A Package Deal

Nelie hadn’t said if they’d wanted to use the Galley for a community search, so Chet had assumed they’d found a donor.But maybe they haven’t?Jackson hadn’t announced a donor in the group text either. If it was him, Chet would have blasted the news in all caps.

He knew Nelie and Emily were friends, but he didn’t think they were so close that Nelie would become physically ill worrying about her friend. And even if she was, that wouldn’t explain why she was avoiding him. Or canceling her vacation.

Nothing explained her erratic behavior.

Chet rinsed his mug and set in the sink, his heart heavy like it had been when he and Heather had consciously uncoupled.What a load of crap.It didn’t matter how one sugar-coated it. Divorce was painful. He felt he should give Nelie the time to wrestle with whatever was bothering her, but was he being naïve? Was he kicking the problem down the road? Was he refusing to see the signs just like he had with Heather?

His gut told him Nelie was different, but his head had a growing list of relationship red flags. Chet didn’t know which organ to trust, but he’d protect his hopeful heart while he gave give her time and space. She’d come to him when she was ready. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too late for them.

Chapter 18

“Longtimenosee.”Wren walked around the receptionist’s desk at Fortress Advisers and gave Nelie a quick hug. “We missed you at the Swan brunch last week,” she said, pulling her red hair into a messy bun, looking every inch like the up-and-coming oil painter she was. She split her time between her studio upstairs and running the office for Miller, her husband, and his partners. Croix Adams was a CPA, Rica Palma Thorpe was a certified financial planner who also assisted during tax season, and Miller was an attorney. Between the three of them, they kept their clients’ assets managed and protected.

“I had to close, and you know what a bear that makes me the next morning. But I promise I’ll be at the next one.”

“Uh-ha.” Wren’s voice dripped with disbelief and a hint of her Southern upbringing. Nelie didn’t blame her. She was hit-or-miss at the Swan’s bi-weekly brunch, but for everyone’s protection, she stayed away when she closed. Who knew what would slip past her lips if she was sleep deprived and cranky? “Well, just remember, promises are like babies. They’re fun to make but hard to deliver.” Wren winked.

“I promise, unless you know, winter,” Nelie said, unzipping her coat.

Wren frowned and shook her head. “I knew it was cold when I moved up here, but if anyone had told me the people hibernated like the bears, I would have stayed South.”

“April is right around the corner and when the snowbanks recede, people will leave their houses. And pretty soon you’ll be complaining there are too many people outside clogging the sidewalks.”

“Truth, and hey, congratulations, by the way.”

She knows?Wren’s comment punched her in the solar plexus, knocking her for a loop. Nelie coughed, trying to catch her breath. Now that her bone marrow donation was done, and Nate’s treatment had been successful, Nelie wanted her normal life back. She wanted to rebuild what she’d lost with Chet and the girls. “Excuse me?”

“The spelling bee. I saw it in the paper. Piper Bingham said she’d never have gotten second place if not for you.” Wren slapped her on the arm. “What other secrets are you hiding from us?” Wren said, dropping her voice in a conspiring tone. Nelie inched back. A throat cleared behind them and they turned to look.

“If you’re done gossiping with Nelie, I’d like to get the meeting underway.” Miller looked annoyed at his wife. Wren rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t gossiping with her, counselor. I was congratulating her on her second-place spelling bee win. It came down to little third grader, Piper Bingham, and a sixth grader. If I’d been gossiping with her, I’d have asked if she knew the name of the mystery man Michelle Swanson had dinner with the other night at the Galley.”

“My apologies. I stand corrected.” Miller held his hands up in surrender. “Ready?” He gestured for Nelie to follow him. “We’re in the conference room since there’s several of us.” Nelie followed, wondering who theseveral of uswere and chastised herself for not asking him questions when he’d called.

She’d assumed it had something to do with the idiot who’d slipped on the sidewalk half a block away from the Galley in December after closing time. The woman claimed she’d been overserved. Her bar tab and the surveillance cameras showed her having one vodka tonic. Nelie knew the woman’s three-inch heels, and the ice had more to do with the fall than the drink.

“Nelie, lovely, I’m so glad you could join us,” Mrs. Hart squeezed her hand, and Nelie woodenly nodded to the other people around the table: Suzanne, Jackson, and Pris. Only Pris seemed unbothered about being there. The others looked nervous. “I should have done this sooner, but everything happened so fast, I decided it was best to hold off until you’d recovered a bit.”Recover for what?Nelie thought as dread settled like lava in the pit of her stomach.

Miller pulled out a conference chair for her, and Nelie sank into it. If they were going to shock her again, at least she’d be comfortable. And if it got too overwhelming, she could swivel her chair a smidgen and zone out looking at the river. Nelie loved watching the river. It was ever-changing, while always staying the same. It calmed her. She hoped Miller and his partners appreciated their view.It must be gorgeous in the fall.

“I am the executor of Ronald’s estate. And after his untimely death”—Mrs. Hart paused as if gathering the strength to talk about her son—“I instructed Anderson, Anderson, and Swanson to sell his possessions except for the cabin in Hayward. Once that was done, I moved his trust here. Miller, Rica, and Croix have actively managed the account. Very successfully, too.” Miller tipped his head in acknowledgment.

Pris studied her nails. Jackson glared at his best friend.Or maybe ex-best friend,now?Nelie thought, wondering how Miller would smooth Jackson’s ruffled feathers. Suzanne looked as confused as Nelie felt. Why was she here?

Nelie had fond memories of Ronald Hart. He was a nice man who’d given her a birthday present every year, including an Easy-Bake oven for her eighth birthday. He’d suffered through some of her creative recipes, too. She’d always thought it weird that he gave her a gift, but what kid would complain about another gift, especially since his were usually the best? But now she knew. They weren’t from a niceman; they were from her uncle.

Nelie sniffled and swallowed past her tight throat as a fresh wave of hurt and betrayal overcame her. Her uncle had died over five years ago. She’d mourned him then, but now it felt like she needed to mourn him again.

“I don’t understand, Mom,” Suzanne said. “At the funeral, you said Ronnie blew through most of his money.”

“Ron’s trust wasn’t straightforward, and I think she wanted to protect everyone,” Miller said. It sounded to Nelie like he was covering for Mrs. Hart and wanted to avoid a mother-daughter show-down. If it came to that, Nelie’s money was on Mrs. Hart.

“Ron wasn’t happy with the way the adoption happened. He’d argued Suzanne shouldn’t have been sent away—”

“I wanted to be in Chicago,” Suzanne said, interrupting her mother.

“I know, dear, but he wanted you here. He missed you, and I think he felt guilty. He was the one who convinced us that a year abroad would be an excellent education for you, especially if you decided you wanted to work for Hart Hotels.” Suzanne seemed to deflate at this revelation.

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