Page 11 of The Woman at the Funeral (Costa Family #11)

“When I got the money from the sales, I figured I could either use it to pay off my student loans or travel with it. I chose the latter.”

“Smart decision. The traveling gave you a lot of content for your blog.”

Her head tipped to the side, watching me with intense eyes.

Shit.

Had I just freaked her out?

“You’re right. I didn’t know you knew about my blog.”

“Matt mentioned it once.” That wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t going to tell her that he’d rolled his eyes when he’d done so. She’d had enough heartbreak from the careless hands of her late husband.

“That blog paid off my student loans,” she told me. “And helped me get my last apartment.”

“Are you still updating it?” I asked, knowing very well that it had been almost a month. There’d been one post reminding everyone about a pop-up art event in Brooklyn, but nothing original in a while.

“I haven’t. I think I was just overwhelmed by…

everything.” She waved a hand out. “But I’m already feeling a little more inspired.

I think a new place was just what I needed.

Though I think I’m going to need to hire someone to hang my art for me.

I am hopeless. I put three holes in one wall already and none of them are right. ”

“What you need is a laser level and a paper grid.”

“Do tell.”

I waved toward my living room art.

“Those canvases were painted by a distant cousin of mine when she learned about my color scheme. She said she was trying new art styles. She usually does portraits,” I went on.

“Anyway, her mother told me to trace them onto pieces of newspaper and to hang the newspaper up to find the right placement.”

“That’s genius.”

“Yeah. And then the level made sure I didn’t fuck up the alignment. I can loan you the laser level. And some spackle,” I added, shooting her a smirk. “Did you buy new art?”

“No. I want to hang the canvases that were in my office at my old place.”

“Oh, I figured those were for clients. Why were they sitting on the floor in your office?”

I knew by the look she shot me that it was because of Matt.

“A few of them are portraits, and Matthew thought having strangers on your walls was ‘creepy.’ I figured it was one of those ‘pick your battles’ things they always talk about with marriages.”

“Matt’s action figure collection was on display in your bedroom at that apartment.”

“That was a battle Matthew was willing to fight to the bitter end.”

So she was the one who had to sacrifice. Not Matt. That, sadly, tracked.

“Have you had any other visits from Matt’s family?”

“Two. One, just the day after you were there.”

“For what?” They’d cleaned out everything of Matt’s. Even the watch I was sure Blair had bought him.

“The TV.”

“ What ?”

“The bedroom television. Ronny claimed that Matthew told her that I never wanted a TV in the bedroom. I didn’t. She figured that meant the TV was Matt’s.”

I’d seen that TV.

There was no way Matt could have afforded it.

“It’s fine,” Blair said, seeming to sense my agitation. “I really don’t like having a TV in the bedroom. It’s… distracting.”

Distracting from… other things that should be happening in a bedroom.

I really needed not to be thinking about how nice it would be to get distracted with her.

“What was the other time?” I asked, reaching up to tug my collar, feeling like I was suddenly choking on the intoxicating chocolate scent of her lotion wafting over to me.

“To get Matthew’s shaving kit.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Ronny had… things to say about my being all boxed up.”

“Did you tell her your new address?”

“I maybe lied about it.”

“I don’t blame you for that. What’d you tell her?”

“I was getting some renovations done.”

“You know it’s jealousy, right? Ronny’s comments about your nice home and clothing.”

“I’m not so convinced. She’s hated me since she met me. I wasn’t good enough for her son.”

“I’m sure that’s—”

“I heard her say that,” Blair cut me off. “She didn’t even try to walk it back when she saw that I’d overheard.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. I’ve never known Ronny to be as nasty as she has been with you.”

“Because she wants things from you,” Blair said.

“You’re probably not wrong about that.” I’d already had a call from her, asking for money for Matt’s grave marker. I thought that had been included with the other arrangements. Apparently not.

“I think the thing that kept her from sucking up to me like she does with you is that I’ve been really firm about my boundaries. Especially as it pertains to my money.”

“Clearly, not a bad idea. With how things have gone.”

“I guess some part of me just… always had a feeling that something was off,” she said, gaze far away.

“I never saw myself as a woman who would demand separate bank accounts and would not put her husband’s name on the lease.

I didn’t even put him on my Prime account.

” She was silent for a moment. “Is it rude to ask you how much money you have loaned Matthew over the years?”

“Rude? No. But I honestly couldn’t tell you an exact number. Matt has been borrowing money since we were kids. And looking back, possibly taking shit too. I blamed my siblings for some things that went missing. But I’m pretty sure now that it was Matt.”

“Can you give me a ballpark? Sorry. I know this is invasive. I just… I’m kind of curious what I might have lost if I hadn’t been so firm about the bank account thing.”

“Several hundred thousand. Probably closer to seven figures.”

“You never questioned it?”

“Constantly. Especially knowing it was probably going to go to some scheme or another that wasn’t going to pay off. But I figured that was what friends did. Especially when it wasn’t hurting my bottom line to give it to him.”

“What did you get?”

“What do you mean?”

“If Matthew got money from you, what did you get out of your friendship?”

Well, shit.

Her words had me slouching back in my seat, just staring at her.

What did I get?

Honestly, nothing.

It wasn’t like Matt had been a great listener, someone who gave solid advice, a guy I could rely on when I needed help with something.

In fact, I almost never saw Matt unless he was asking for something from me. Money, time, connections.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you think about that. I don’t want to ruin your memories of Matthew just because my own are so… complicated.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m just surprised I couldn’t see what my brother claims he’d always seen about that friendship.”

“I think maybe you just wanted to believe the best.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “I don’t have many friendships outside of my family. I think I was clinging to that.”

“Well, now you have a new friend,” she said, shooting me a shy smile. “Was that really cheesy?”

Not at all.

Even if it felt like a kick to the gut to hear that she saw me as a friend.

That was exactly what she needed. It was all we could be, considering.

“No, not cheesy. It would be nice to have a friend. Especially one close enough to share a meal with here and there. I—”

There was a knock at the door, making both of us jolt.

“Sounds like Zeno,” I told her, giving her an apologetic smile.

“How do you know?”

“He knocked once and got distracted,” I said, rising.

By the time I made it to the door, he remembered to knock again.

“Hey, man, I think I found… did you cook?”

“What are you wearing?” I asked, shooting his outfit a bemused smile.

He’d matched a pair of primary-colored polka dot shorts with a t-shirt printed in T-rexes. His hair was clean, though. And his face was shaved.

“Huh? Whatever I grabbed. What is that smell?” he asked, sniffing. “Why are you standing between me and—” He trailed off as he moved in, spotting Blair, who’d risen from her chair to face him, “this exquisite creature?” he finished.

Charmed, Blair’s lips curved up.

“Blair, this is my brother Zeno. Zen, this is Blair Langston-Ferraro.”

“Oh. Oooh,” Zen said, eyes going bright.

Before he could say something stupid, I rushed to cut him off. “That is Blair’s lemon chicken over rice you’re smelling.”

“Is there any left… oh, nice,” he said, spotting the mostly full roasting pan.

The laptop he had under his arm slammed down on the table as he stole my plate and piled it high with the spoon, snagging an asparagus spear and taking a bite.

“Any chance I can hire you to cook for me?” he asked.

Blair flushed again, pleased by the praise. Maybe finally starting to believe it when it wasn’t just me saying it.

“She’s probably a little busy with her three businesses,” I told him as he started to cut the chicken while still standing. “Sit your ass down like a civilized human being,” I demanded in that faux-firm voice I’d always used on my younger siblings.

He said nothing. His mouth was too full. But he dropped down in a chair and reached for my wineglass.

“I should get going,” Blair said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I have to locate my bath stuff before bed,” she insisted.

“Okay. Thanks for dinner. It was amazing.”

“He’s right about that,” Zen agreed, shooting her a quick thumbs-up before cutting up more food.

“Can I swing by tomorrow to pick up my pan and maybe steal your laser level?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be here most of the day.” I actually had two meetings that I was now going to cancel.

We walked to the door as we spoke.

Then she was suddenly on the other side of the threshold.

It felt wrong.

Like she belonged inside.

“Great. Thanks for the wine. And conversation. I needed it.”

“Anytime. Welcome to the building, Blair.”

With that, she walked off toward the elevator, and I tried like hell (and failed) not to enjoy the view.

When she was gone, I turned back to find Zeno watching me, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Don’t.”

“You got the love of your life living in the same building, and you think I’m not gonna give you shit about it?”

“She’s not the love of my life,” I insisted.

She wasn’t.

She couldn’t be.

Case closed.