I smiled. “My dad referred to you as Andi, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

After she shook my hand, she didn’t let go. She wrapped her other hand around mine. “I was so sorry about the loss of your parents. They were such good people.”

I nodded. “Thank you. My sister and I appreciated the flowers you sent. It was very thoughtful.”

“Of course.” She shook her head. “I used to melt at the way your dad looked at your mom—the way they were always holding hands. They seemed like two teenagers in love.”

My brows drew down. “I didn’t realize you’d met my mom. We always joked around that Dad had a girlfriend here because neither of us got to come on his trips to Chicago.”

“Oh, no. She came here quite a few times. In fact, when they first came to look at this building—must’ve been seven years ago now—the thing they loved most was the top floor. They’d talked about making it into an apartment for themselves.”

Huh. I guess my mom didn’t want me to feel bad that I could never go with Dad on his trips. That would be just like my parents, though—to want to make a little love nest for themselves in a building they bought.

When they were alive, their constant touchy-feely had been sort of gross to me—they were my parents. But for some reason, after they passed away, those were among my most treasured memories.

“Well…I’m looking forward to seeing the place. I can’t get over that it’s back on the market in such a short time.”

“Divorce.” She nodded. “Hate to say it, but probably seventy-five percent of my repeat property sales are due to a breakup.”

Andi and I toured the empty building. It was such an odd feeling to walk through the space Dad and I had spent so many years working on. When I’d decided to come check it out, I thought expanding to Chicago as Dad had planned to do and building our dream conversion project would bring me some sort of closure. I’d always regretted having to sell this building. But being here brought a dull ache to my chest and made my shoulders feel like I was carrying a barbell with a hundred pounds of weights.

The building was eleven stories, so it took us a while to walk through. By the time we got to the top floor, the place my parents had imagined making into theirs, I was starting to feel like I needed some fresh air.

I tugged at my tie and loosened it as I followed Andi around. She pointed to a wall of windows. “These are old, obviously. And not very heat efficient for Chicago winters. But Marie loved them. She told Michael she wanted to have them made into doors to use inside the space as room separators. I’m not sure how easy that is to do, but he seemed to love the idea.”

I didn’t know my dad had brought an interior designer in. “Marie? Would you happen to have her contact info? I hadn’t realized he’d started working with an interior designer already. We’d only done the layout of the conversion together, not any decorating.”

Andi laughed. “Your mom, Marie…not an outside designer.”

“My mom’s name was Athena.” It wasn’t a name people heard too often outside of Greek History class.

“Really?” Her brows drew down. “I could swear we had a whole conversation about how we had the same name in reverse. I’m Louise Marie, and she said she was Marie Louise.”

The real estate agent looked confused, and then abruptly seemed almost flustered. She shook her head and turned to walk to the other side of the room.

“Umm… That’s right. I’m…confusing her with another client. I’m so sorry about that…Athena...right.”

People made mistakes with names all the time. Hell, I didn’t remember most people’s names thirty seconds after I met them. But something about Andi told me she hadn’t made any mistake. Though, that made no sense.

My head was definitely screwing with me here—all the memories of the time Dad and I had spent together working on this building. I let the funny feeling I had pass in favor of finishing the tour. Outside, I gulped fresh air into my lungs.

“So the seller is looking to get out clean—pay what he paid and walk away. But I have a feeling there might be some wiggle room. Between us, it’s not a very amicable divorce, and I think a fast sale and not dragging out separating assets might make them willing to take it at a small loss.”

I nodded, but felt wiped out for some reason. I was glad I’d decided to stay in town tonight to walk through with a building engineer tomorrow because I had a feeling half of what I saw today might be a blur by morning. My emotions were really screwing with me.

“Would you like any suggestions for dinner or anything?” Andi asked after she locked the front door. She still seemed slightly off—almost standoffish or nervous.

“No, thank you. The hotel has a restaurant in it, and I’ll probably just eat there.”

“Okay…so…I’ll see you at nine tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Nine o’clock. Thanks for the tour today.”

I got into my rental car and watched as Andi pulled away. Rather than start the car, I rested my head on the headrest for a few minutes with my eyes closed. I took a few deep breaths, but couldn’t shake the screwed-up feeling in my gut.

So I picked up the phone and called the accounting manager at my office. “Hey, Dan. It’s Ford. Do we still have my parents’ expense reports from years ago?”

“We keep six years of records in one of the storage units. IRS can generally go back and audit you for the last three years, but if they find a substantial error, they can go back six. Your dad liked to stay on the safe side, especially since he certainly had the storage space. Do you need something?”

“Think you can pull both my dad and my mom’s expense reports and see if my mom ever came on any of my dad’s trips to Chicago?”

“Yeah. Sure. Give me a few hours.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

***

Some thoughts are like a loose thread in a sweater. You can either pull it and chance unraveling the entire thing, or cut it off and move on. When Andi said my mom had come to Chicago with my dad on more than one occasion, it was a loose thread. But I cut it off and moved on, able to chalk it up to my mom not wanting me to feel badly that she got to come see the project I had worked on for years.

But then another thread came loose when Andi said my mother’s name was Marie Louise—she’d sounded so certain. And the second time, I couldn’t just cut the thread and move on. I’d pulled, and now it felt like I was waiting for my entire world to unravel.

After I’d checked into my hotel, I’d gone to the gym to work off some of my unsettled energy and then showered. Now I was sitting at the bar of the restaurant. My phone finally rang just as I got my burger.

“Hey, Dan.”

“Hey, Ford.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I checked all the expense reports we had, and we have no record of your mom ever taking a trip to Chicago. Their assistant made all their reservations and did their expense reports for the company—not likely she’d miss something, but I suppose it’s possible.”

My chest started to hurt, and I rubbed at it. “Any chance you remember if we had hired an interior designer in Chicago? I’m up here looking at the building we used to own—it came back on the market.”

Dan had been with the company as long as I’d been alive and remembered everything.

“Your dad was pretty good about not spending on projects before the official construction began. You never know when you might get problems from the building department that change all your plans.”

I nodded. That was definitely true. I was just about to let him off the phone. Maybe Andi was wrong about everything with my dad, and I was pulling at a thread that just needed to be snipped. It honestly seemed ridiculous to think what I’d been thinking.

I laughed. “You’re right, Dan. Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. If you’re considering buying the building back, you might want to check in with your dad’s lawyer up there. I remember there was a zoning issue she’d worked on for him before the purchase—not sure if the current owner changed zoning back. But that’s something to look into if you decide to go forward.”

I nodded. This is why my parents paid Dan more than the average accounting manager—his mind was a steel trap.

“Thanks, Dan. Any chance you remember the attorney’s name?”

“Landsford, I think. Let me look it up in the computer. We would have cut her a check, and she’ll be in our vendor list. Hang on a second.”

My shoulders relaxed, and I reached down for the burger in front of me. Suddenly, my appetite had returned. Dan came back on the line just as I bit into it.

“Yeah, it was Landsford. Marie Louise Landsford, Esquire, is who we made the check out to.”

Marie Louise.

I almost choked on my burger.

“You want me to email you her contact information?” he asked.

I managed to force down the mouthful of food, yet it still felt like I had a lump in my throat after I swallowed. “Yeah. That would be helpful. Thanks, Dan.”

***