“You all right? You’re looking a bit peaked.”
“Just resting, Ray. Been a long day.”
He nodded, glancing at my suitcase. “Real sorry about Nicholas. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.” I straightened my spine. “Ray, could I use your phone? I seem to have forgotten mine.”
“Of course you can.”
He led me inside, past the beer coolers and snack aisles, to the small office behind the counter.
“Take your time,” he said.
I didn’t call any of my quilting friends, as Brandon had suggested. I called Vincent Hargrove, our family lawyer of thirty years.
“Naomi, I tried reaching you yesterday,” he said. “I was surprised not to see you at the reading.”
My hand tightened on the receiver.
“What reading?”
Vincent was silent for a moment. “The will reading. Your son presented a document, but I had concerns. I’ve been trying to contact you.”
