Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
It comes out salaciously. Like there’s a whole other side of Jules at night. “Want to dance with us?” she asks.
“I’d love to,” I say, and I’m swept up in the crowd in the middle of a club, dancing with my brother, my two best friends, and perhaps some new ones too.
EPILOGUE
CAN I TELL YOU A SECRET?
Harlow
The next week, I finish my day at Petra Gallery, showing a collector the newest sculpture from an artist she admires. When the client leaves and we lock the doors, I tell Allison and Amelie I’m taking off.
I have a meeting with my trust attorney at last.
She leads a busy practice, and with my gallery work schedule and the rare few evening appointments the lawyer had available, this is the first time I could see her.
After I say goodbye to my fabulous bosses, I head to the Village to the law offices of Gupta & Wong. They’re located on Jane Street, in a beautiful red-brick brownstone with a white door. It’s almost too warm and cozy for a staid family-law attorney.
I head inside, taking the stairs to the second floor where I give my name to the receptionist.
“Great. Prana is looking forward to seeing you,” the man behind the desk says.
I’m sure he says that to everyone, so I simply smile and thank him as he escorts me along the hallway to a corner office.
A forty-something woman with electric-blue glasses and silky black hair rises from her desk, and says, “You must be Harlow Dumont.” She realizes her error and shakes her head, correcting herself. “Excuse me, I meant Harlow Granger.”
“That’s me,” I say, but I don’t mind the mistake.
She strides around the desk, and we shake hands. “Prana Gupta,” she says, then gestures to a blue couch. I take a seat and she sits on a chair across from me.
“I want to review the details of the trust your mother set up for you before she died.” She goes on to explain how and when the money comes due. It’s perfunctory, businesslike, and about what I expected from this meeting.
Prana takes a beat, purses her lips, and then, like she’s trying to strip emotions from her voice, says carefully, “But your mother also asked us to hold onto something for you.”
I startle, then tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
Prana takes another breath. It seems this is a big deal for her, like these kinds of meetings don’t happen every day for her. “It’s not uncommon for family members to want to give something to a child when she comes of age,” Prana explains.
Instinctively, I finger my necklace. “Like jewelry? A locket?” That doesn’t entirely sound like my mother. Despite the necklace I wear, she was never big on baubles.
“Yes, and family heirlooms or art,” Prana explains.
Maybe Mom collected art I didn’t know about?
Prana reaches for a binder from the table then takes out a slim envelope. Instantly, my eyes well with tears.
I know exactly what that is, but still I have to ask, even as my voice breaks. “A letter from her?”
Prana nods with sympathy in her dark eyes. “Yes, but there’s more. The letter explains it all.”
She hands it to me reverently, a touch of pride in her eyes. Maybe even anticipation.
With trembling fingers, I open the envelope, but I’m not even sure I’ll be able to read the words past the sea of tears.
I didn’t walk in here expecting to receive a letter from beyond.
This wasn’t on my bingo card at all.
Prana hands me a box of tissues. She must be well stocked. I grab one and wipe my cheek. Then, delicately, like it’ll crumble, I take the sheet of paper from the envelope.
My throat tightens. That’s my mother’s handwriting. I don’t even try to stop the waterworks as I read.
Dear Harlow,
Can I tell you a secret?
I’ve always wanted to take care of you. Even when I knew it would be difficult, I tried to find a way. The only way I knew how.
And it’s this—I’ve saved something special for you.
Just you.
I was working on a new story when I became ill. It’s nearly done. It only needs an epilogue. I asked my lawyers to hold it for you until you could take it under your wing completely.
When you read this, it’ll no longer be a secret, undiscovered last manuscript. It’ll belong to you to do with whatever you want. It’s something we will have created together.
There’s something else I want to tell you, but I’m pretty sure you already know.
I love you.
I still love you.
I’ll always love you.
XOXO Your mom
My shoulders shake. My sobs rain down. The tears don’t stop. I go through a box of tissues, blowing my nose, wiping my face, drying the endless tears as Prana tells me she kept digital copies of the book. That it’s safe and sound. That she’s now sent it to me in a password-protected file. That she can help with whatever I plan to do with it.