Ben laughs. “Did you not read the letter? You have no idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“Your financial status. And you’re a damn accountant.”
“Should I be insulted?”
He shakes his head. “No. If it were anyone else other than Drew, I might say yeah. But not with him. Cate, let me just say you can afford it. The moving company.”
“And you know this, how?”
“I’m your fucking broker. Like the letter said—I’m the money guy. Drew left you well cushioned. He’s a trust fundee. I’ve handled his investments for years and you’re his sole beneficiary.”
“It was him I wanted. I never paid attention to his bank account. It was just us and battling fucking cancer.” I almost sob.
The money thing never entered the picture for me and it’s not something I want to focus on right now. Ben must notice it because he keeps pushing.
“Here. Hold on.” Ben pulls up a chair and we both sit at his computer. He logs into his brokerage firm and pulls up Drew’s account. “This is your account.” Then he scrolls down and shows me the numbers. It’s seven hefty figures worth. “This won’t include his life insurance, which will add another million.”
“What?” I wipe my face again, because I’m still crying off and on throughout this whole conversation.
“You heard me. You know about Drew’s mom, right? Her family?”
“Well, yeah.”
“That’s where his money comes from. Your house? You know it doesn’t have a mortgage on it, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, Cate, add another seven hundred grand to your bottom line.”
Jesus. How did I not know this?
“You never talked about money with him?” Ben asks.
“No. Never. Looking back, that sounds really dumb of me.”
“No. I’m sure if the conversation ever got close to the subject, he would steer it away. And he wasn’t frivolous with it either.”
It’s hard to take in. I knew money wasn’t an issue, but I just never dug into it. “Ben, someday when our heads are screwed on straight, we need to find a way to do something with some of this money as a tribute to him.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. By the way, I’ll be with you at the reading of his will and all.”
“Good.”
“So, a moving company then?”
Letty calls the following week and says the reading of Drew’s Last Will and Testament will take place at their home. The attorney is a close family friend so they decide to do it there. Ben picks me up at Jenna’s and we go together.
Afterwards, I ask Letty if she’s okay with all this. After all, it’s sort of her money.
She sighs. “Drew loved you more than his own life, Cate. Of course I’m okay with it. It was his will that you have it all.”
Then I tell her about my plans to move and sell.
“I think you’re wise. It would bring nothing but more tears and heartache for you, dear, and God knows we’ve all had enough of that.” She dabs her eyes as she talks. I ask myself if it will ever get easier to talk or think about Drew.
Seven Months Later
The house is mostly staged, all pictures of Drew and me are packed and stored. The movers have come and all my belongings are in storage. It’s finally listed and I’m living full time with Jenna again, just like old times.
My position with Ernst and Young was given away, but I interviewed with Price Waterhouse and was given an entry-level auditing role with them. I’m starting all over again. I’d be lying if I’d say I wasn’t depressed. I think about Drew every day. He’s everywhere I look, in everything I do. But I guess that’s the grieving process, or at least it’s what everyone says.
During my lunch break today, I make a run to the hospital. I’m still dealing with insurance stuff, so I furnish the billing office with just one more piece of information they need. The woman tells me to come back in an hour so I decide to grab a quick lunch in the cafeteria. As I walk down the corridor, I turn the corner and run smack into Dr. Mercer. Once again, his first name escapes me. I give myself a pass because the night I met him I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind.
“Cate.”
“Dr. Mercer.” I extend my hand to him.
“I thought we passed all the formalities. Please, call me Drew.”
IT’S THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING and I stand by the window of my apartment and gaze out as the sun makes its first appearance for the day. Today is moving day and nervous excitement wouldn’t allow me to sleep. Arms circle me and draw me back into a firm chest.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I turn in his arms and press my lips against his. “Morning.”
“I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”
I shrug. “I’ve rarely seen dawn since I moved to DC.”
“It’s pretty impressive, but it has nothing on you.”