Wish You Were Gone(50)
Emma felt like an amateur. Maybe she did need a PI. She picked up the phone, ready to call Zoe back and beg, but it rang in her hand, nearly startling her out of her chair. The call was from Cantor Feldman. Emma hit talk.
“Hello?”
“Emma? It’s Evan Cantor.”
“Evan!” Her voice broke. Emma stood up and began to pace. “Good to hear from you.”
“Yes, well, I wish it were under other circumstances,” he said, his gravelly voice low. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I—”
“So listen, I’m out of the country at the moment, but I’d like to schedule a formal reading of Mr. Walsh’s will when I get back. Say the Friday after the memorial?”
Emma paused in front of the butcher-block counter she used for slicing bread and pulled out one of the bigger knives from the knife block, the zing running right down her spine.
“A formal reading?” She turned the blade this way and that, watching it catch the light. It distracted her from the fact that her pulse was doing insane things. “I’ve read his will. I’m aware of what’s in it.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Didn’t tell me what?” Her grip on the knife handle tightened.
Evan Cantor let out a world-weary sigh. “Mr. Walsh made some recent changes to his will.”
Emma’s skull felt suddenly weightless, as if someone had pumped it full of helium. She couldn’t believe it. Gray was right. Again. “What kinds of changes?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Walsh—all joint holdings still go to you,” Cantor said. “Mr. Walsh just made a few additional, specific bequests.”
“What does that mean? How recent was this?”
“We’ll discuss it on the day. If you have any problems with my proposed meeting date and time, please contact my office.”
The line went dead. Emma turned the knife around and, before she even realized what she was doing, stabbed it so hard into the butcher-block countertop it made a crack that splintered outward like a lightning bolt.
Unbelievable. How was Gray always right? She called Gray’s number and it rang a few times, then went to voicemail. She tried again. Same result. Emma groaned in frustration, grateful that the kids were out so she could be as loud as she wanted. She could call Lizzie, but Lizzie wasn’t who she wanted to talk to right now. Gray would know what happened next—whether she could contest the will, if she had any rights.
This was when living in the same town as her best friend/lawyer came in handy. Emma grabbed her bag and headed for her car.
GRAY
Darnell seemed perfectly normal. He had come home early and was helping her make dinner. He was making conversation. Talia Lennox was getting promoted to senior vice president and would move into James’s old office. Zoe Wang would take over as her assistant. Dante had joined the business book club, much to everyone’s surprise. Darnell said nothing about doctors Wellhammer and Patel.
Gray pulled the lasagna out of the oven and placed it on a cooling rack. Darnell reached for it, but she slapped his hand away.
“It needs to rest for fifteen minutes,” she said.
“And we’ll still be eating two hours earlier than usual,” he said, turning off the water in the sink and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Wonder what we’ll do with all that free time tonight.”
Gray would normally have been intrigued by this invitation, but tonight she had to force a smile. Never in her life had she felt scared to talk to her husband, and she refused to feel that way now. She flat out refused. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out arugula, carrots, and tomatoes to get started on the salad like it was any other day.
“So, which doctor are you seeing? Wellhammer or Patel?”
Darnell, who had gone back to washing pots and pans, froze. The water continued to rush over his hands.
“Where did you hear those names?” he asked.
“What kind of doctors are they, anyway?” she asked, wanting to see what he’d say.
Darnell brought his fist down on the water spigot and turned around. “Gray, where did you hear those names?”
She stepped away from the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “I followed you.”
“You what?”
“Darnell, earlier this week you went around causing a stir, cutting ties with James’s clients without consulting me or anyone at work. Then, today, I get a panicked call from Dante telling me you didn’t show up at the office,” she said—which was the truth, if not all of the truth. “Excuse me if I’m worried.”
“So instead of calling me to see where I was, you followed me? How did you even find me in the first place?” he demanded. “What the fuck, Gray?”
The doorbell rang.
“Don’t talk to me that way.”
“I’ll talk to you however the fuck I want to talk to you!” Darnell roared.
He picked up the burning-hot casserole dish, full of steaming lasagna, and hurtled it across the room with both hands. Gray screamed as it shattered against the wall, taking down a one-of-a-kind painting with it and splattering sauce and noodles up and down the walls. The crash was magnificent.
“Darnell!” Gray shouted.