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waiting on you.”
“Yes. Tuesday. That’s fine. What time?” I asked in short barks. “Thank
you, I’ll see you then.” After I hung up, I pulled my knees to my chest and
started bawling. Mitchell sat down beside me, slipped his arm around my
shoulder, and let me cry a while.
When I finally calmed down, he squeezed my shoulders and asked, “What’s
going on?”
“The will,” was all I could spit out.
“When? I’ll go with you,” he said, his hand caressing my back, comforting
me.
“Four on Tuesday, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered,” he said. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s
another thing, but I’ll be happy to go, be there with you to give you comfort,
and support - whatever you need.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you have a job and…”
“I told you, Renie, I’ll be happy to go with you. I’ll pick you up at 3:30,
where?”
“Here, I’m going back to work Monday and I’ll come home early on
Tuesday.”
    We enjoyed the pizza and chatted, mostly about the movie, and then sat
together on the sofa to watch the second one. I tried to pay attention to the
movie, but I couldn’t get past the fact that Mitchell Donovan was on my sofa –
beside me.
    Later, he told me he was going to go home, and he would see me on
Tuesday. When he got ready to go, I walked him to the door. He hugged me,
and turned to leave. As he walked away, part of me was sad and wanted to
scream ‘DON’T GO!’ But a bigger part of me felt relieved. I had to figure out
what all of this meant. It’s what I do – figure things out.
He called when he got home. “I didn’t want to leave.”
    “I didn’t want you to, but I’m glad you did,” I said, honestly. “I need to get
my head in the right place.”
“Me too,” he said, and as soon as he did, I burst into laughter.
“Nice,” he said sarcastically, and then he was laughing as hard as I was. “I’ll
call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll hope so.”
n
    On Tuesday afternoon, he pulled up at 3:25. I was waiting, pacing as I
watched for him. When he came in, my breath caught. He wore a midnight
blue suit. It was tailored, not off the rack. The lines of the suit were perfect for
his body. It hung perfectly, and touched his body in all the right places. He
looked like a tall Michael Bublé kind of fine - if anyone wanted my opinion.
    “Hey,” he said when I opened the door. “Wow, you look beautiful.”
    “You, too,” I said and looked away because I was afraid I’d drool. “Want
some tea? It’s sweet.”
“You’re stalling. Come on, let’s go,” he said and grabbed my purse, guiding
me to the door.
“I dread this so much that I hurt all over. My whole body aches,” I said as
we drove away.
“I know,” he said, and patted my knee. As he did, I swear I felt lightning
bolts rip through my body!
    We arrived at 3:56, and as we approached I dreaded even putting my hand
on the door to open it. My heart raced, my hands were sweaty, and I felt
nauseous. When I walked in, Midge and Derek were waiting, along with Martin
Michels, Mom’s attorney. Mitchell took a seat in the back of the room and
Derek stood and hugged me. I know I was stiff as a board when he did, but I
couldn’t warm up to him. I felt such bitterness and hurt. I wasn’t ready to make
nice with him.
    I finally sat in the seat beside Midge. She looked back over her shoulder at
Mitchell, and then took my hand and squeezed it with a happy smile on her
face.
“Stop it,” I whispered, but I felt a smile of my own as I thought about him
being there. Being there with me.
    The attorney read the legal documents and I watched Derek listen intently.
It was all I could do to hold it together. Finally, Martin read the will. It was
pretty cut and dried. She had a life insurance policy that would pay for the
funeral and cremation. Whatever was left from that policy went to Derek. He
read that all of her personal financial assets - the condo and