The Will (Magdalene #1)(161)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Jake had not called again.

Jake had not called after I didn’t meet him at The Shack.

And now it was past one o’clock, which was a long time since I should have met Jake at The Shack, and I was going from feeling imprudent to being scared.

Thus, on a kind of autopilot, I was carrying on with inconsequential things when I should be finding Alyssa and picking her brain in order to sort out the mess I’d made.

“I’ll do that after this,” I murmured to myself as I looked through the things in Gran’s box.

Stock certificates. A goodly number of them. Jewelry. A great deal of it, all high-quality and expensive. Birth certificates. Hers. Mine. My father’s and uncle’s. Surprisingly, a deed to a plot of land in Florida.

And, at the bottom, a plain white envelope.

I pulled it out and saw that there was not a letter inside but something else.

And on the outside was written For my Buttercup in Gran’s hand.

I felt the envelope and noted it felt like one of those small tapes from a dictation machine.

Either Gran had a message for me or this was a tape that exposed such as the identity of Deep Throat from the Watergate scandal.

I was suspecting it was a message from Gran.

Oh God.

Hurriedly, I replaced all the items in the box and shoved the envelope in my bag. I moved to the door, opening it, and caught the bank manager’s eyes.

“I’m done.”

He nodded, came in, grabbed the box and we went back to the vault where he returned it. He turned his key. I turned mine.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Certainly,” he replied.

I gave him a small smile and directly left.

With care, I drove home thinking about Gran’s desk. I hadn’t scoured through the drawers but I didn’t recall seeing a tape machine in there.

However, if she’d recorded something for me, she had to have one somewhere.

I just had to find it.

This was on my mind when I drove up the lane, seeing a rather well-kept but nevertheless very old white pickup truck in the drive. Closing in behind it in my Cayenne, I saw a tall, sturdy, somewhat older man step out from the entryway of the front door. The wind was whipping his silver-gray hair and his jacket, his eyes in his (it had to be said) rather weathered face squinting in the sun.

I’d never seen him before in my life and, although he looked kindly, I didn’t want visitors.

I needed to find a tape recorder, listen to that tape, call Alyssa, ask her how you admitted to your man that you’d been an idiot and then find Jake and, well…handle him.

Nevertheless, since doing the first part of that required access to Lavender House, I had to get out of my car and approach the house.

This I did and I did it calling, “Hello.”

“Josie,” a somewhat familiar voice replied.

He knew me.

But upon closer study, I again noted I did not know him.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked.

“Tom,” he answered.

I blinked.

Tom?

The mysterious Tom from The Shack?

“Jake missed you at The Shack this morning,” he went on.

Oh my.

It was the no longer mysterious Tom from The Shack.

At my door to tell me Jake had been there and I had not.

Oh dear.

“Um…” I began.

“It was me,” he stated.

I blinked at him again.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Me,” he repeated. “Me who told Lydia you should be with Jake.”

At this shocking news, I drew in such a deep breath I was forced back on a foot to do it.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, sounding winded.

“Worried about you, she was. Worried about you all the time. Wanted you to be happy. Wanted someone to look out for you. Make you laugh. Give you a good life. Came to The Shack a lot. Liked my coffee. We got to talkin’ and she told me. She told me what you needed. Said they had to be tall. Good-lookin’. Smart. Protective. Fierce. Said they had to live local so she could have you but mostly so you could have Magdalene and Lavender House. She told me all that, I told her about Jake.”

Oh my God.

He kept talking.

“Jake was married to Sloane back then but I still told her about him. Probably more hope than anything, but I didn’t think it would last with Sloane seein’ as she was not a good woman. Looked good. Could turn a man’s eye, not like you ‘a course,” he said complimentarily, grinning and tipping his head at me. “But she was pretty enough. All about Jake in the beginning. Then again, they always are. See a man like that, way he looks, way he is, think it’s gonna be smooth sailin’. A strong man like that, he’ll pound out all the kinks of life and all you gotta do is sit back, enjoy the life he gives you and let him. But, you know, life is life and, pardon my French, but shit happens. Shit even a man like Jake can’t make not happen.”

When he stopped speaking and it seemed something was required of me, I said, “Of course.”

But before I could invite him inside or say more, he kept going.

“So, I still told Lydia about Jake, kind of hopin’ that he’d get quit of Sloane. Now,”—he raised his hand—“don’t be thinkin’ I don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage. I do. Just not a marriage that involved Sloane.”

At this, I had the hysterical need to giggle and nearly choked when I swallowed it down.

Tom kept going.

“Think Lydia had a gander at Jake, probably caught sight of Sloane and definitely had the same idea as me. Think that because the next thing I know, Jake’s over at her house cleaning out the gutters. Kids are over there after school and on the weekends. Jake’s in her garden helpin’ her out ‘cause we all know, Lydia liked fresh veggies from her garden.”

Jake.

It was Jake, who had worked the garden for Gran.

Because, no matter how busy he was, no matter all the plates he had spinning in the air, that was what Jake would do because Gran liked fresh veggies from her garden and he loved Gran.

I felt my eyes begin to sting.

“Now, don’t know, even though Jake and I know each other real well. I was his father’s best friend, best man at his dad’s wedding, watched Jake grow up. And Lydia and I could have a good natter over a coffee when she could still get around and when she couldn’t, I’d find occasion to bring her a coffee and gab with her here. But even with all that, still don’t know, when he got shot of Sloane, why she didn’t get him to you,” Tom said. “Years, I waited to see if that would happen.”