He Called My Inheritance a Forgery in Front of Three Hundred Guests, Then Took Every Blow Meant for Me novel · Chapter 39 of 40

Chapter 39: Five Fifty-Eight

I stood on the courthouse steps with three microphones still in my face.

"Ms. Bradbury, was that Kendrick Mercer?"

"Ms. Bradbury, are you two together?"

I watched his car turn the corner at the end of Cambridge Street.

"No comment," I said.

That night at eleven, my phone didn't ring.

Or the next night.

Or the one after.

I didn't call him either.

I had a hundred and forty people and a glass ballroom, and the wedding season starting in three weeks.

On Monday morning I was on the loading dock at 5:58.

I was there every Monday now.

My father had met the trucks himself on Mondays for thirty-one years, and I'd found out why.

It's the only hour of the week when nobody wants anything from you yet.

The floodlights were on.

The sky over the orchard was going grey at the edges.

The banquet captain came out the side door with his clipboard and two coffees, and handed me one.

Then a car came up the service road behind the cottages.

A black car, dusty to the doors with Maine.

It parked at the end of the staff lot.

A man got out and walked up the dock stairs.

He was in a black server's uniform.

His left arm hung straight at his side, out of any sling or brace, and it was fine.

He stopped in front of me in the floodlight.

I looked at his face.

Then I looked down at his shoes.

Black.

Polished to a shine.

I took my time about it.

"Those will hurt by noon," I said.

"I'll manage," said Kendrick.

The banquet captain made a noise in his throat that might have been a laugh.

"I heard you're hiring," Kendrick said.

"Where did you hear that?"

"A man in Maine read about a wedding season in the paper. Three hundred covers a weekend. Short on the floor."

"Did you quit the diner?"

"I gave my notice the week of the trial. Saturday was my last shift."

"They threw me a party. The cake was shaped like a lobster."

"That's why you didn't call."

"I wanted to be standing here when I asked," he said. "Not on a phone."

"It's nineteen dollars an hour."

"I know what it pays."

"Staff housing is cottage three. The window latches don't close."

"I know about the latches."

I drank my coffee.

My hands weren't quite steady, so I held the cup in both.

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