CHAPTER 2
Kia
“KIA! PHONE CALL FOR you.”
I bit back a snappy retort as I adjusted the focus on my camera lens. “Little busy here, Drew,” I said. Then I lifted my head, so I could look at the basically nude model I was photographing. “Turn your head slightly to the left.”
The model, who was wearing nothing but strategically placed paint, did as I had asked. I studied the play of light against her angular body and then dropped my gaze back down to the viewfinder.
“I told the lawyer on the phone you were in the middle of a shoot, but he was most insistent,” Drew said, now hovering at my elbow.
I frowned, adjusting the aperture. “A lawyer? What the hell does he want?”
It’d better not be another lawsuit.
I’d gone through a nasty one several years ago, back when I was still doing wedding photography. I’d learned a big lesson back then. Even if you were an expert photographer and did an incredible job, you could still get royally screwed by your client.
“He said something about a great-uncle dying and an inheritance.”
I nearly knocked over the tripod as I whirled around to face Drew. “Is this some kind of a joke?” I demanded. “I don’t have a great-uncle.”
Drew shrugged. “I don’t know, but the guy sounds legit to me.”
I sighed.
Despite Drew’s purple hair and neck tattoos, which somehow managed not to clash with the dressy pants, button-up shirt, and vest he typically wore to work, he was the best assistant I’d ever hired and was damn good at weeding out the bullshit in my life. If he said the lawyer’s call was legit, then it probably was.
“Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
It was more like twenty-five before I finally finished the shoot. As the model traded in her stilettos for a white silk bathrobe, I hightailed it to my office at the rear of the studio, my black-heeled boots clicking against the concrete floor of the warehouse I’d converted into my photography studio over a year ago. My mind spun with all the questions I’d pushed to the back of my mind while I was working.
Who is this great-uncle? What did he leave behind? How come I never knew him?
“I told him you’d call him back,” Drew said from his desk as I stepped inside.
The office was a small glass and concrete structure I spent little time in since the majority of my after-shoot work occurred in the darkroom.
Drew pointed toward the phone perched on my desk without looking up from what he was doing. “You’ll find the phone number on the sticky note I left there for you.”
“Thanks.” I dropped into my desk chair and then picked up the sticky note. I scowled as I read the phone number. “Area code 325? Where the hell is that?”
“Texas, I think,” Drew said absently. “The guy on the phone had an accent thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.” He glanced over at me. “Why? What’s up?”
“I think I know who this is,” I said slowly. Then I picked up the phone and dialed.
Drew started to ask more questions, but I tuned him out, letting the buzz of the ringtone fill my mind. My father’s family was from Texas.
“Stafford Law,” a woman with a Texas drawl answered pleasantly. “How may I help you?”
“Hi.” I cleared my throat. “I’m calling for . . .” I checked the sticky note. “James Stafford. He just called my office a few minutes ago. My name is Kia Nash.”
“Oh!” I heard papers shuffling in the background. “Yes, Mr. Stafford very much wants to speak with you, Miss Nash. Hold on just a moment.”
There was silence for a minute, and then a gravelly, deep voice came on the line. “Kia Nash?”
“That’s me.” I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice. My nerves felt as though they’d been scraped raw already. “Are you the attorney who was trying to reach me?”
“Yes, Miss Nash.” The lawyer coughed slightly. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m calling to inform you that your great-uncle Daniel Nash has passed away.”
Daniel Nash. So, that was his name. I felt an unexpected lump form in my throat at the loss of a man I never knew, and I rolled my eyes. Oh, who are you kidding? You never tried to seek out any family before. Get your shit together.
“How did he die?” I had to clear my throat to get the words out.
“He broke his neck in a tumble down the stairs,” the lawyer told me. “Terrible thing.” He paused. “I’m relieved you remember him. I wasn’t sure you would, being a distant relation.”
“I’ve never met him.” I leaned back in my chair with a sigh, ignoring Drew’s inquisitive stare. “I just vaguely recall my father mentioning an Uncle Daniel when I was younger.”
“I see. Well, unfortunately, Mr. Nash did not have a wife or children, and while he did will a few of his things to various members of the community, he left the bulk of his estate to be passed on to his next of kin. I’ll need you to come down for the will reading on Tuesday, as well as help to execute his funeral arrangements.”
Jesus.
“But I don’t want an estate,” I protested, a headache building between my eyes. “I’m not looking for any kind of inheritance or anything.”
“Nevertheless, you’re the only heir, and someone needs to take care of the funeral arrangements, so the townspeople can have some closure,” the lawyer said firmly. “Unless you’d rather leave this responsibility to a total stranger?”
“No, of course not.” I bit back a retort at the lawyer’s pointed question, knowing he was right. I might not have known my uncle, but he was family, and I would want my next of kin to take care of my arrangements if I passed away without an heir. “Let me get my schedule cleared, and I’ll come down.”
I hung up the phone and then turned to Drew, who was waiting expectantly for an explanation, not even putting up a pretense of working anymore.
“So, I’m clearing your schedule?” Drew asked, raising a brow. “You do realize that you have a fashion shoot booked with Yves Saint Laurent next week?”
“Yeah, well, they’re either going to have to reschedule or find someone else,” I said, shoving to my feet. “I’m going to be gone for at least a week.” I stalked out of the office, so I could break down my equipment and get everything in order. I had a Texas funeral to attend, and I’d never been late for anything in my damn life.