The Bequest

My heart lurches in my stomach. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be there. "Robert-"

"See? That's enough, right there. The way you just said my name?" He shakes his head. "I want nothing to do with making you feel like that. So I'm just going to say this once, and then I'll never bring it up again."

My stomach twists and cramps and I finally understand the expression 'I'm tied up in knots.'

"Since I've already completely destroyed this entire lunch, I'll tell you my deepest, darkest secret." A muscle in his square jaw works. "I feel like I owe it to Nate you should know that I loved him like a brother. I had never done a single disloyal thing to him in my entire life."

He runs his hand over his jaw. If he didn't have such a defined jawline, his beautiful eyes, his perfectly shaped nose, and his flawless skin, combined with movie star hair, would probably make him look too beautiful. As it is, he's always been the best looking man I've known.

"A small part of me was happy when I heard that Nate passed." He wads his napkin in his hand. "I know that makes me a terrible person. At first, I thought my penance for that sentiment would be never, ever acting on my feelings, never confessing the truth. But it's been a year, and I know that's not long, but I also think that if you could ask him, Nate would want you to be with someone like me. Someone who cares about your kids. Someone who cares about you." "Robert-"

"There you go again with the mournful Roberts," he says. "Look, I just wanted you to know how I feel. I think you're the most incredible, the most brilliant, the most organized, the most capable, and the most stunningly beautiful woman I've ever met. No one else compares. No one else has ever come close. If you ever feel differently than you do right now..." He stands up. "Like I said, I couldn't do nothing, not again. But I value our friendship too, more than you probably know, so I'll never say another word. I'll never so much as glance at you sideways. Things with me will be one hundred percent work and friendship from here on out...unless you change your mind." His half smile is at once the most handsome and the most gut-wrenching thing I've ever seen.

Oh Nate, why did you leave me?

I can't even blame Robert for how he feels or even how he felt when Nate died. I've certainly spent my share of time angry at Nate for leaving me to handle everything alone. "I'm not even close to being ready to move on, Robert." "Or at least, not with me." His smile breaks my heart. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

I'm terrified things will be unbearably awkward between us, but that fear, at least, appears to be unfounded. On the drive back to the office, Robert slides right back into talking about work like nothing ever happened. In fact, the drive back feels the same as the ride over felt. It's not until I'm pulling out my office chair to sit down and get back to work that I realize why.

He's felt this way for a very long time, which means he's had a lot of practice at pretending that everything is fine.

By now, Robert's probably a master at suppressing his feelings. I'm not sure whether that's sweet or tragic. "Oh, Nate. I wish you were here right now. You'd know what I should do."

It's probably not strictly sane for me to talk to my dead husband out loud, but it makes me feel better. I've done a lot of things I never thought I'd do in the past year.

Like Pizza Mondays. Before Nate got sick, I'd never have agreed that my kids should gorge themselves on pizza and breadsticks every Monday, but the take-out guy at Il Primo knows me by name now. "Abigail. I have your pizzas ready. Extra parmesan?"

No matter how many times I've told him no, and it's got to be close to fifty at this point, he always offers. "Thanks, Teo, but I'm good."

Am I good, though? A friend of nearly twenty years just told me he'd like to take me on a date. I set the pizza boxes in the passenger seat and before I can put the car in gear, tears well up in my eyes. It's not that Robert's a bad person, no matter what he said. He's one of the best guys I know. If Nate hadn't asked me out first, who knows? But he did.

And the only reason Robert could ask me at all is that he's gone.

Forever.

So maybe I do still lie sometimes when I say I'm fine, but at least I have the hope that it will one day be true. That's something.

When I get home, Ethan's mixing up a salad, Izzy's slicing a cantaloupe, and Gabe's setting the table. Whitney, as usual, is playing the piano. She's my only musically inclined child, and I'm delighted to have one.

"What's all this for?" I set the pizza on the table and pull out a stack of plates.

"I figured it had probably been a long day," Ethan says. "It is a Monday."

He's such a liar. "I appreciate the help," I say. "But I'm on to you."

Ethan's grin is far too charming, and his hair falls into his face roguishly. No mother, no matter what she says, is really delighted when her teenage son turns out to be ridiculously handsome. It makes me incredibly nervous. I wish he'd waited to grow into his good looks until, say, college. Or maybe grad school. "I know, I know, I can't get the RZR. I know that money's for college, and I shouldn't have asked."

I didn't expect him to surrender so smoothly. "What did everyone do today? Anything fun?"

"Not today," Gabe says, already reaching for pizza, "but tomorrow is field day! Can you come?"

I hate that the schools wait until it's so hot in Houston before doing field day. "Uh, well—"

"Mom has a lot of work to do, runt," Izzy says. "I'm sure she'll make it if she can."

"I did get assigned a new case today."

Whitney groans. "Another one? Why didn't you tell them no?"

I laugh. "I want to be on this case. Uncle Robert helped me get it." I lean forward. "You all know that your father had just been made partner..."

"When he died?" Gabe's voice is still just a little too loud at the wrong times. Hazard of being seven.

I don't flinch. That's progress. "Yes, and when you're a partner, you make more money. Thanks to this case, I'll be more likely to be made partner sooner. The extra work will be hard, but the extra money would be good for all of us." "You know what else might be good for all of us?" Ethan asks.

"What?" If he says a Razor, I'm going to explode.

"I hear Utah is nice," he says casually, like he's telling me that it's going to rain tomorrow.

It takes a moment for me to process what he's saying. He was on the phone waiting for me when Mr. Swift called-what exactly would he have been able to hear from his end? I open my mouth and close it again. As their guardian, I don't technically have to tell them anything about the bequest. It's my decision to make whether to turn it down or move to Utah. Thank goodness for that.

But if Ethan already knows....

"Let's say grace so we can eat," I say.

The kids bow their heads and I pray-I don't want to deal with anyone whining for being chosen. Once the prayer is over, they all dive in, stuffing their faces. It bought me a few moments to think about what Ethan likely heard and how I want to approach it. "Your Great Uncle Jedediah passed away," I say. "I found out today."

"What made him so great?" Whitney asks.

Ethan laughs. "No, she's not saying he's great. She's saying he's Dad's uncle, which makes him our 'great' uncle, like a grandpa, only an uncle."

"Oh." Whitney looks just as confused as before.

"The great part is that he left us his ranch in his will," Ethan says. "It's almost four thousand acres."

Clearly he heard enough, but not the right parts. "He left it to the four of you, and to your cousins, Maren and Emery, as well."

Izzy, predictably, is bouncing up and down. "I bet there are horses. Are there horses?" She's been taking riding lessons for two years. You'd think that would be enough, but the girl is the same as I used to be. She can never get enough time around them.

"It's a cattle ranch," Ethan says, his tone utterly confident, as always. "Of course there are horses. Probably loads of them."

"Ethan." My tone is too sharp. I bite my tongue.

Izzy's voice escalates into squeal territory.

Whitney, as usual, is looking from Ethan to me and back again, trying to figure out why I'm not excited, and why Ethan's so interested. She's always been the keenest observer of all my children. Gabe's shouting and jumping because someone else is. Seven-year-olds can always be relied upon to mirror any strong emotion they witness.

"Guys," I finally say.

Izzy stops leaping and turns to me. "Why aren't you happy? You love horses too."

"We have a home here," I say. "Do you really want to move to Utah? It snows there. A lot."

"Exactly." Ethan flips his hair back with his hand in a move so familiar I almost don't notice it. "Heard of snowboarding, Mom? It slaps."

Heaven help me, but I almost can't handle teenage slang. "Yes, I've heard of it, thanks."

"Are there really horses?" Izzy asks in the same way Cinderella asked if the pumpkin carriage and glass slippers were real.

I lean forward, bracing my elbows on the table. "It's been a year and three weeks since Dad passed away. We took the day off to talk about him at the one year mark." Even now, my throat still closes off at the thought. "His uncle passed away a week after that anniversary, and as Ethan so helpfully mentioned, he left you a share of his ranch. I'm sure there are horses, because it's a working cattle ranch with three hundred and fifty cows."

Gabe's eyes widen. "Wow."

"It is pretty neat. However, the stipulation to taking under the will is that we can't simply go visit. We can't put someone else in charge of it. If we want to keep our share of the ranch, we need to relocate there and actually work the ranch ourselves for at least a year."