She cleared her throat and tried to forget her nagging feeling of something being wrong. She needed all her wits about her. Naveen’s eyes were incisive, even more so than she remembered. “Given our past . . .”
“When you say our past, are you referring to the fact that we’ve seen each other naked a bunch of times, or is this about the time you ran away from my bed while I was sleeping and texted me that it was over?”
She drew a short inhale through her nose. The repressed annoyance in his words was a tough pill to swallow, but she took it. “Both. Either.”
Naveen gave a short, decisive nod. “Fair.”
“Is there, perhaps, another attorney here who could handle these details?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
That unfortunately carried a little too much regret on his part.
He shook his head, and slowly, the shock and annoyance in his face was masked by coolness. “I am sorry about your loss, though. I remember you saying you had only the one aunt. And apologies it took us some time to find you. We have a great investigator, but a name change can slow things down.”
Working as long as she had with her father, she’d had access to the best identity forgers in the industry. They’d advised her to go with a completely different new name, but her objective at eighteen hadn’t necessarily been hiding, it had been physical and emotional distance.
Hiding had apparently been a by-product, though. “Thank you for your condolences,” she said stiffly. “And about the past—”
Naveen’s chest expanded and he held up his hand, cutting her off. “Let’s not get into it, okay? You’re here for a reason, and I am a professional, and we will get through this and go our separate ways. Deal?”
Get through this wasn’t the attitude she wanted men to have about her, but could she blame him?
Not after your behavior. “Deal.”
Naveen perused the papers he held. The dark blue blazer and pants he wore were as beautifully tailored and expensive as ever, but there was no tie, which she was grateful for. His ties had always wound up on her bedroom floor.
“It seems your aunt only communicated with my grandfather via phone when she made her will.”
Mira nodded. “She mostly worked out of the country.”
Naveen cleared his throat and moved to sit down at the small rectangular table. She sank into a seat opposite him. She felt like she’d entered a parallel topsy-turvy dimension, one where it was quite acceptable to sit across from your ex while they read your aunt’s will.
You will get through this, as he so nicely put it, and then you will go home and have a nice scream into a pillow.
“Your aunt’s estate is pretty simple. Other than a couple of charitable bequests, you are her only designated heir.” Naveen shuffled some papers, and then went still. “But . . . I see you have a sister. Funny, I don’t remember a sister.”
Oh fuck. He didn’t remember because she’d never spoken about Sejal.
“In fact”—Naveen ran his finger over his lip—“I distinctly remember you saying you had no siblings.”
Whelp.
She folded her fingers together under the table. “We’re estranged.”
“Deeply, it seems, if you don’t even count her as a sibling,” Naveen murmured.
He’s not your boyfriend or potential husband. His judgment doesn’t matter at this point. “We haven’t spoken much since she left home when I was fifteen.” Since she abandoned me.
Naveen sucked his teeth. “I see.”
“I don’t talk about her to anyone,” she couldn’t help but say. Christine was the only one who knew about Sejal, and that was only because her older sister had shown up at their dorm when she was a sophomore. It had taken one quick conversation with her to understand Sejal had followed in their father’s footsteps. Her sister had been shifty and paranoid, certain someone was after her for something she’d stolen.
Mira hadn’t asked her who was chasing her or what was in her battered green duffel, she’d simply told her she could hide there for a few hours, but then she’d have to leave as soon as the danger was past. Sejal had gotten annoyed and left immediately. Good riddance, Mira had thought then.
Rhea Auntie had been their go-between, their way of knowing that the other was alive. She hadn’t realized till this minute that with their aunt gone, so, too, was their mediator. “It’s complicated.”
“Sounds like it.”
Mira tamped down the spurt of irritation that threatened to pierce her calm facade. Naveen had only spoken of Kiran with love and given his brother a hearty hug the one time she’d met him. Kiran had stayed up late with them, telling her all about his younger brother’s escapades, with great fondness. What did Naveen know about family betrayal?
“Do you know where she is? Her number?” Naveen persisted.
“No. And no.” Rhea had always carefully avoided talking about Sejal or her dad during their biannual phone calls. “I’m sure you find that strange,” she couldn’t help but add.
An odd look flashed in his eyes. “Not at all. When you do estate matters, you get used to family squabbles.”
Is it considered a squabble if your sister jetted at the first opportunity and left you behind even though she knew exactly what you’d go through?
“In any event, since the total sum of the estate is well below California’s probate amount, I can dispense with everything now.” He handed her a stapled sheaf of papers. “Here is a notarized copy of the will.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the papers, surprised by how few pages it was. A simple estate indeed. She flipped through them, but it was all boilerplate language. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. A note? Something personal?
She paused on the page detailing Rhea’s savings account, which had contained a few thousand dollars at the time of writing. How kind of her aunt, but Mira was comfortable enough. She’d donate the money in her aunt’s name.
He handed her a padded envelope. “She also left some things for you in here.”
She reached inside the envelope, her fingers brushing against suede. The blue jewelry box was small, and when she opened it the dainty gold jhumkas winked up at her. “I remember these,” she said, softly, and felt a pang in her chest. Rhea had often worn jhumka earrings, but these had been Mira’s favorite.
Once when Mira had been in the third grade, her aunt had picked her up from school as a surprise the day she came into town. She’d felt so cool getting into Rhea Auntie’s sleek red rental car. She’d touched Rhea’s earrings when she’d bent over to buckle Mira in and asked if she could wear them. Her aunt had chuckled and told her they were too heavy for her ears. Had Rhea remembered?
She snapped the box closed and put it aside. Then she turned the envelope upside down, and examined the key that fell into the palm of her hand. HAPPY STORAGE the tag proclaimed. She couldn’t help her exclamation. “Fuck.”
Naveen cleared his throat. “A problem?”
“No. No problem.” It was actually a problem, but one that didn’t matter, because she wasn’t going to deal with it. When she’d left her home at the age of eighteen, she’d made herself two promises: (1) she’d never see her father again, and (2) she’d never go back to Vegas.