She’d kept the first promise until the day he died. She wasn’t about to break the second one by returning to her hometown, and that was what this key was coaxing her to do.
She pulled out the last item in the envelope, a folded piece of notebook paper. It said Mira on it.
She traced the letters. Her aunt’s handwriting. She opened the envelope, trying not to tear the paper in her haste. This was what she’d hoped for. One last communication.
Dear Mira,
If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I’m sorry if that was a harsh surprise for you.
I wish we could have kept in more contact, but I understood your desire to get away from everyone and everything that reminded you of your childhood. Please don’t feel guilty that we didn’t talk very much in recent years! The last thing I want you to do is live your life bogged down by things not said.
I love you so much. There. That’s everything I want to say. You didn’t have to say it, I knew you loved me.
Your father loved you too. I know you may be rolling your eyes right now, and I know how you felt about him, but he did. He wanted me to give you something. I didn’t want to bother you with it before, but I left it for you in the usual place.
I hope you’ll split the contents of your inheritance with your sister, if you can find Sejal, but that’s on you. If you do speak to her, tell her I love her.
My greatest wish is for you both to be happy and free.
Sincerely,
Rhea
The words were so quintessentially her aunt—nonjudgmental, to the point, loving—that Mira had to choke back the lump that formed in her throat.
They were also, in true Chaudhary fashion, cryptic and coded. While her aunt may not have been in the illegitimate businesses her brother was, she’d been aware of some of what the man was up to. At the very least, it appeared she’d known of one of his hidey holes.
What inheritance?
“That’s a storage locker key, I see.” Naveen shuffled his notes. “We usually have an inventory for any storage lockers. There’s nothing here. Or any receipts or instructions for payment. Where is it? We can see if we can get someone to clean it out for you.”
She couldn’t explain the significance of this key to Naveen. Not now. So she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter. It’s like an inside family joke.”
Naveen shrugged. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Mira tried to focus on something other than the fact that one ghost from her past was sitting in her pocket and another in front of her. “What about her nonprofit? Is there anything I need to do with respect to her position there?”
“A nonprofit?”
“Yes.” Mira couldn’t help the pride in her voice. “She helped establish schools in rural areas all over the world.”
“That’s right. I remember you saying something about that.”
That damned rehearsed spiel about her family.
You can revise it now that everyone is gone.
The sharp lance of grief was unexpected. She was usually much better at keeping those pesky emotions on the shelf, but she could be forgiven for the shakiness right now. A lot was going on.
Naveen flipped through the scribbled notes. “I’m unaware of her heading a nonprofit. She did, however, leave a couple thousand dollars to a charity working on research for Crohn’s disease.”
Her lips flattened. Her father had died of complications related to the disease.
“That is the only charity I see in—Oh wait. There’s something here.” He paused for a moment. “It looks like she did mention that she was recently retired.”
She nodded, like she knew about her aunt retiring, but the woman had said nothing about that on their last call. “Of course,” she murmured.
“One second, let me see if there’s anything else.”
She turned the jewelry box over in her hand while he read, then snapped it open and removed the earrings from the box. Better to put these on now instead of risking losing them.
She placed the post in her earlobe, but then, as always, the tiny gold unscrewed backing immediately slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor. “Damn it,” she muttered, and pushed her chair back, scanning the brown carpet. Why did those buggers immediately disappear to the human eye the second they hit the ground?
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just lost the back of my earring.”
Naveen pointed right under the table. “Is that it?”
“Where?” She slipped out of the chair and stood. She blinked when Naveen did the same, but knelt on the floor next to the table. “You don’t have to do that.”
He picked up something microscopic and shook his head. “Nope, only lint.”
Awkwardly, she came to her hands and knees as well, unwilling to have him be the only one searching for her earring. “I’m sorry.”
“My mom and cousins are always losing these. I swear, the gold is made to be slippery.”
His mom and cousins. Not his wife or girlfriend.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. She did not care at all if this man was married twice over by now.
He’s not wearing a ring, if he is.
She inspected the carpet like her life depended on it, patting her hands gently over the worn rough fibers.
“Wait, don’t move.”
“Huh?” She glanced up at him, startled when he crawled closer, and even more startled when he reached toward her face.
She didn’t jerk away, though, not even when his thumb barely grazed her chin, even though it sent a shiver down her whole body. He was close enough that she could count every long eyelash, and see the beat of the pulse in his throat, exposed by the open collar of his sharp white shirt. He smelled like her favorite hot winter drink, cinnamon and nutmeg and everything nice.
His long, elegant fingers plucked something off the bow at the neck of her blouse and held it up. “Found it. Right in plain sight the whole time.”
Mira took the gold backing from him, and tried to calm the ragged beat of her heart. Holy shit. She had to lick her dry lips. He was so big, and the area under the table was so small . . .
He must have registered the oddly intimate position they were in the same instant she did, because he jerked backward and came to his feet. She scrambled back as well. “Thank you,” she muttered.
“No problem,” he said, his tone deeper than normal.
Neither of them sat down. Mira quickly finished donning the earrings. She smoothed her skirt, carefully avoiding his gaze. Do not blush. Do not. Cool thoughts.
“Uh, any other questions?”
What is wrong with me? Mira shook her head. “No. I’m good.”
“Great. Again, my condolences on your aunt.” A clear dismissal.
That annoying key was heavy and too big in her pocket. She collected the papers he’d given her, folding the letter reverently and placing it in the envelope. “Thank you.”
“Do you need your parking ticket validated?”
“No, the, uh, gate was up so I drove in.”
He didn’t look surprised by news of the broken garage attached to his office building. “Do you live nearby?”
“Alhambra.”
He glanced out the window. “You’re going to hit traffic.”