My Fiancé Chose My Best Friend-At My Dad’s Funeral novel · Chapter 16 of 24

Chapter 16: The Dress

On Sunday I drove my father's pickup to Banksville Road.

The neighbor rode beside me with a foil-covered dish in her lap, because she had decided I wasn't eating enough.

"She keeps soup in that office," she said. "Don't let her tell you it's for clients."

The estate lawyer was waiting at the top of the stairs above the dry cleaner, in the green cardigan.

She took one look at my face and held the door wide.

"You've slept," she said. "Good. Sit."

Her desk was clear except for one blue folder and three bowls of soup.

The neighbor set her dish down next to them, and nobody found that strange.

I sat between the two women who had known my father best.

For one minute nobody said a word about the building.

"Saturday," the lawyer said finally. "You're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Then here is what you need."

She opened the folder.

"The signature page for EH Holdings. The resolution naming you its sole member. And the renewal, which your father had drafted in June with the old terms and a blank for the rent."

"A blank?"

"He left it for you." She turned the page toward me. "He said you'd know the number."

I put my spoon down.

In the margin beside the empty line, in pencil, in his square printing, it said: Charge them what they'd charge you.

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