Page 171 of Mess With Me

She holds my hand. “I have a theory. I have ever since Chester told me about Joseph. But we should look at some of these.”

“Why did he say my dad should have these?” I ask.

She smiles. “Let’s just read.”

Alarm bells should be going off. But the excitement on her face is contagious. And it’s a hell of a lot better than the pain I keep seeing there.

It doesn’t even take five minutes of reading the very first journal for me to snap my eyes to Sasha’s.

She laughs.

“Chester knew exactly what he was doing, making us wait.”

“Let’s call them.”

“Who?”

“All of them.”

* * *

Sasha taps her fork on her glass. It’s a Tuesday night, and L’Aubergine is full but not packed. Several heads from adjoining tables turn our way at the sound.

The Rolling Hills resort’s flagship restaurant is big and too fancy for my tastes, though the food is admittedly delicious. It’s got beautiful views of the Quince River and the town across it.

But the most beautiful view I see is the one next to me: my wife—at least for a while longer—standing up to make an announcement in front of a good portion of my family. The only ones missing are Eli, who’s with Reese as she wraps up the end of her tour; Nora in the home stretch before graduation; and the kids, who’re home with sitters.

Otherwise we’ve got everyone, including Dad. Gloria’s on her way, too, which I make sure to text Ford about. He sends me a middle finger emoji in return.

“Not an engagement, folks, sorry,” Sasha says. She turns to Jude. “I mean, unless you’re going to ask Nora over the phone right now.”

“Should I?” Jude quips.

A few people at the other tables chuckle. Someone cheers. They turn back to their meals when he gives a wave and turns back to us. He leans in, his voice lowered. “I’m waiting for Christmas Day.”

Sasha does a little happy dance. Then she clears her throat. “Okay. I really do have something to say. Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”

The server’s taken our orders, and everyone’s got a drink in hand. We’re all buzzing with nervous energy, most of all Sasha, who looks for a moment like the Cheshire Cat.

She sobers quickly, though, and I can see her try to center herself to speak.

I wrap my hand around her calf, just under the hem of her velvet blue dress, which hugs her curves so beautifully I told her when we left our room that I needed to wear horse blinders so I don’t have to watch other men staring. She just giggled and sashayed out the door.

Now, that seems a million miles away as she wraps her hand around the back of my head, her fingers gripping the side of my neck as if she needs to hold on to say this.

“You all know Griffin and I have lost a lot in the past few weeks.”

She swallows.

Both my sisters grow teary-eyed. Jude and Dad look on the verge, too.

“But the loss of precious belongings doesn’t hold a candle to the loss of a dear friend.”

She talks about Chester and the friendship we all had. I have a feeling these were the words she was too choked up to say at his service earlier.

She talks about the impact he made on our lives.

Then she talks about the treasure he was hiding in his house.

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