Part 2Ten Minutes to Grieve

The funeral was set for two days later. It rained all night in my hometown.

Julian came after all.

He wore a sharply cut black suit and held a long-handled umbrella over me, blocking the slanting rain at the cemetery gate. His other hand rested steadily beneath the urn in my arms.

My relatives saw him and told me how lucky I was that he had set his work aside and rushed over at a time like this.

I looked down at the urn and didn't explain.

Julian had canceled his meetings, and he did stand beside me from start to finish. He had even called the cemetery ahead of time and chosen a quiet plot on a slope for my grandmother, away from the relatives already circling her estate.

While the rain came down, one of them tried to steer the conversation toward who would get the little house she had lived in.

He handed over the paperwork and shut them up in a few sentences.

In front of other people he was always dependable.

After the rites I got into the car, cold and damp all over, my fingers still curved the way they had been around the urn.

The door shut. Julian turned the heat up and spread a blanket over my legs.

All that careful attention made me lean into his shoulder without thinking, and the tears came before I noticed them.

He didn't push me away. He only lifted his wrist and checked the time. "Iris, that's ten minutes."

My body slowly went rigid against his shoulder. "We buried my grandmother today."

"I know." He handed me a tissue. "But you can't stay stuck inside it."

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression changed.

I looked down at it. Zoe had sent a photo of herself standing next to a railing somewhere high up, the night blurred behind her.

Julian sat up straight, his face grim. "Stop the car."

The driver looked at him in the mirror. "Mr. Vance, there's still a stretch of mountain road ahead."

"I said stop the car." Julian frowned, plainly out of patience already.

I looked up at him. "Where is she?"

"She's in a bad place. I have to go." He gripped the phone. "Head back to the house. I'll come get you tomorrow."

I watched him get out. The black umbrella disappeared into the rain, and the driver asked hesitantly whether he should take me back.

I said, "No. Take me to the county seat."

Not long after the car pulled out, I called the lawyer.

He was the firm's longtime counsel, brought in by Julian. I had negotiated the original partnership agreement for him myself, and I had signed the shares in my name over to the company.

"If Julian and I separate, can I get those shares back?"

There was a pause on the line. "The transfer was completed at the time. Unless he returns them voluntarily, the contract is what governs."

"Then draft a waiver of my claim."

"Ms. Calloway, are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

As I stepped outside, the institute sent through my flight details, reminding me to meet the group at the airport at ten the next morning.

Julian's message came in right behind it.

He said he would make up for leaving so suddenly. Tomorrow, he would go with me to pick out a new car.

I looked at it for a long time, then replied, "No need."

He called almost at once, an edge of impatience in his voice. "The car is for you. What are you making a scene about now?"

"I don't want your car."

"Then what do you want?"

I looked at my reflection in the law office's glass door. My face was pale, my eyes were swollen, and I was clutching the waiver.

"What I want, you can't afford to give."

The line went quiet for a few seconds. He seemed not to understand, and in the end he only said, "We'll talk when you're back."

I hung up and handed the documents to the lawyer.

When I got back to where I was staying, another message came from Julian. "Don't take this out on yourself. I'll be with you tomorrow."

I deleted the thread and didn't answer.