Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5 by Eden Butler Page B

already preparing for this year’s annual book sale, even though the last one was just four months ago. Funny how I was forced into volunteering for that. Funnier still how all that organizing and dusting and shelving led to me in Autumn’s bed and her entrenched in my heart.
    God, I sound pathetic.
    “Thanks for meeting me,” I tell Sayo, but before I can utter another word, she stops me with her hand uplifted.
    “Let’s get a few things straight.” She lifts her index finger as though she’s ticking off a list of annoying caveats. “One, Autumn knows I’m here. I wouldn’t have come without telling her.” When I nod, she raises her eyebrow as though daring me to interrupt with a million questions about my ginger angel. “Two,” another finger goes up, “for the record, I think you’re both being stubborn and ridiculous, which I told her.” Sayo reaches into her bag and pulls out that damn letter. The one that started this entire mess. She folds it out on the surface of the table and smooths out the crinkles. “My father is a lawyer, don’t know if you knew that, but Joe asked me personally to have a look at this.”
    The chair I’m sitting in whines when I sit back and fold my arms over my chest. Joe is a smooth arsehole, asking Sayo for favors, assuring that she’s on his side of things. Sayo uses my empty cup to hold the letter flat on the table. An old VW bug passes in front of the coffee shop, splashing water next to our feet. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about Joe.”
    “I know you didn’t, but he’s been nice to me, and I think he’s really worried about you.” When I don’t look at her, Sayo smacks my shoulder hard.
    “Jaysus, what’s that about?” I have to rub my arm to keep the throbbing at bay. Sayo might be tiny, but she delivers a hell of a punch.
    “That was for hitting your ailing stepdad. Really, Declan, what the hell?”
    “I was hacked off.”
    “Yes, well, you need to learn to control your temper.” She challenges me with another lifted eyebrow and I’m not too keen to receive an additional throttle so I placate her with a curt nod. “Now,” she says, smiling like she’s a bit too pleased with herself, “I’m going to tell you what my dad said about this letter.”
    “Jaysus, has everyone in town read that buggering thing?”
    Sayo’s shoulders lower, but she manages not to roll her eyes. “No. Just Joe, my dad and me. I don’t even think Autumn read it. Joe asked for an interpretation, that’s all.”
    I know that if I ignore her, she’ll just yammer on until she’s had her say, anyway. All I care about is finding how Autumn is, what’s she’s said to Sayo. Does she miss me? God, does she hate me? If that means I have to endure endless lawyer babble to get what I want, then so be it.
    But that doesn’t mean I have to like the waiting.
    Resigned, I slump against the back of my chair and nod to the annoying Japanese cutie in front of me. “Get on with it then.”
    “Okay, so basically, Mrs. O’Malley’s will is connected to her husband’s.” Sayo avoids my eyes by scanning the letter again. “Um, your father Micah.”
    “And?” I have no intention of making this easy for her.
    “And…,” again her dark eyes move over the paper, “Micah’s will set aside an inheritance for you to be released at his wife’s death. My dad said it was unusual, but not uncommon. Basically when there is a question of paternity, stipulations can be set so that the potential heirs will have what’s due them.”
    I laugh. It a small, bitter sound that I don’t think Sayo understands. What’s due me? That’s a joke. It has to be. When Sayo frowns, her knee shaking as though she’s uncomfortable about my reaction, I move my hand, urge her to continue. “What else?”
    “It seems that Mrs. O’Malley tried to have you written completely out of the will. When she couldn’t do that because of the stipulations Micah left, she added an addendum.”
    “Which