One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(81)
But what if her parents walked out at that exact moment? What if they saw her before she could hide? She shivered at the thought, a reminder of how far she had to go in order to exorcise the residual fear about her parents from her heart.
The next time she looked up, Louis was no longer standing at his post near the door. She pressed her face to the glass and scanned the sidewalk in either direction but didn’t see him. It was too early for his shift to be over, but maybe he’d had to use the restroom or make a phone call or something.
“Rebecca Youngston.”
She nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of her old name said in a man’s baritone voice. She’d always assumed that if anyone called her by her given name again, it would either be her parents or the police. She whirled around to find Louis smiling down at her. “You saw me here?” was all she could think to say in her panic.
“For four days now. Did you forget that I know everything that happens in these streets? Especially when it comes to my very favorite tenant,” he said with a kindly wink.
Emily forced herself to take even breaths, then commanded her shoulders to drop and her pulse to slow back down. “I did forget that, yes.”
Louis’s smile broadened, crinkling the edges of his eyes. “I knew you’d be back someday. I prayed for it. And here you are, Praise Jesus.” He opened his arms wide in an invitation for a hug.
She indulged his invitation and wrapped her arms around the kind soul who’d been such a steady, calming force in her childhood. As they hugged, she felt the broken pieces of her spirit healing. She felt the fear melt away. “It’s so good to see you, Louis.”
“Likewise you, darlin’. Especially seeing you look so good.” He held her at arm’s length and looked her over, the same way Granny June sometimes did. “You must have done all right for yourself.”
“I have. I’m a chef.”
He chuckled at that. “You? You never cooked nothing in your life when you lived in my building.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I know. I didn’t learn to appreciate the art of cooking until later.” When scrounging up enough food became one of the most important elements of her survival.
Louis’s smile fell. “I’m sure you’re here looking for your parents.”
All she could do was nod.
“As happy as I am to see you, it’s now my burden to let you know that your parents are no longer with us.”
“What?” The possibility had never crossed her mind. She really had believed that if they’d died, she would have sensed it, somehow.
“Your father of a heart attack not too long after you left. Your mother moved out of my building soon after, but she kept in touch with me. I learned a couple years ago that she’d passed on. Cancer.”
Emily went numb, cold. They were both dead. Had been for years. She dropped into the nearest chair. All this time, she’d been so fearful, so vigilant about concealing her identity. And for no reason. If she’d ever bothered to conduct that internet search, she could have spared herself years of unnecessary worry. “I don’t know what to say.”
Louis eased into the chair across from her. “I bet you have a lot of questions, about your folks and where they’re buried and other details about their passing, but I’m not the one to ask. They don’t tell me nothing because I’m just the doorman. But I know someone who can help you.” He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
The name on the card was Charles Welk. Her parents’ closest friend and lawyer. “How did you…”
“Mr. Welk has been convinced, just as I was, that someday you’d be back. Every time he comes around, he gives me his card. He said that if you ever came back, that you should go talk to him because he’s the executor of your parents’ estate.”
Emily fingered the corner of the card. Her stomach churned with dread at the idea of presenting herself to her parents’ closest friend, of coming out of hiding. Whatever her parents had left her in their wills, she didn’t want it. She wanted no ties to them, nothing to make her beholden to their memory. Then again, what if it was a letter, an apology? Her eyes pricked with moisture at the thought. Did she dare hope?
Louis patted her hand. “You have a lot to think about. I hope you go see this Mr. Welk. Don’t give yourself something new to regret by leaving this stone unturned.”
Emily stood with Louis and embraced him once more. “Thank you.”
“Darlin’, you just made my year, finding out that you’re alive and well. All the thanks goes to Jesus for bringing you home.”
Home. Not by a long shot.
She watched Louis cross the street and reassume his position at the door, then she walked through the café, out the back door and through the alley where her car was parked. On her phone, she pulled up directions to Charles Welk’s office on the twenty-fourth floor of a building on West Jackson Blvd, downtown, and hit the road.
Welk’s office was a cheery space, and quiet, with large windows affording a partial view of Lake Michigan. The secretary, a slim blonde who looked to be in her fifties smiled at Emily and waited for her to approach her desk before asking, “May I help you?”
Emily flashed the business card Louis had given her. “Mr. Welk isn’t expecting me, but I was told to pay him a visit if I ever came back to Chicago. Is he in today?”