Nicholas Sparks - The Best of Me

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Really? You mean you would have let them hurt me?”

He didn’t have to answer. She could tell by his expression that she was right.

“They were always afraid of you, you know. Even Ted. Because they knew you as well as I did.”

“You were afraid of me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I knew you loved me and that you’d do anything for me. And that was one of the reasons it hurt so much when you ended it, Dawson. Because I knew even then how rare that kind of love is. Only the luckiest people get to experience it at all.”

For a moment Dawson seemed unable to speak. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“So am I,” she said, not bothering to hide the old sadness. “I was one of the lucky ones, remember?”

After reaching Morgan Tanner’s office, Dawson and Amanda sat in the small reception area replete with scuffed pine floors, end tables stacked with outdated magazines, and fraying upholstered chairs. The receptionist, who looked old enough to have been drawing social security for years, was reading a paperback novel. Then again, there wasn’t much else for her to do. In the ten minutes they waited, the phone never rang.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing an elderly man with a shock of white hair, gray caterpillars for eyebrows, and a rumpled suit. He waved them into his office. “Amanda Ridley and Dawson Cole, I presume?” He shook their hands. “I’m Morgan Tanner, and I’d like to express my sympathies to both of you. I know this must be hard.”

“Thank you,” Amanda said. Dawson simply nodded.

Tanner ushered them to a pair high-backed leather chairs. “Please sit down. This shouldn’t take long.”

Tanner’s office was nothing like the reception area, with mahogany shelving neatly stacked with hundreds of law books and a window that overlooked the street. The desk, an ornate antique with detailed molding on the corners, was topped with what appeared to be a Tiffany lamp. A walnut box sat in the center of the desk, which faced the leather armchairs.

“I want to apologize for being late. I was tied up on the phone, taking care of some last-minute details.” He kept talking as he shuffled around the desk. “I suppose you’re wondering why all the secrecy about the arrangements, but that was the way Tuck wanted it. He was rather insistent and had his own ideas about things.” He inspected them from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “But I suppose you two already know that.”

Amanda stole a look at Dawson as Tanner took his seat and reached for the file in front of him. “I also appreciate that both of you were able to make it. After listening to him talk about you, I know that Tuck would have appreciated it as well. I’m sure you both have questions, so let me go ahead and get started.” He shot them a quick smile, revealing surprisingly even and white teeth. “As you know, Tuck’s body was discovered on Tuesday morning by Rex Yarborough.”

“Who?” Amanda asked.

“The mailman. It turns out that he’d made it a point to check in on Tuck fairly regularly. When he knocked at the door, no one answered. The door was unlocked, though, and when he went in, he found Tuck in his bed. He called the sheriff, and the determination was made that no foul play was involved. That was when the sheriff called me.”

“Why did he call you?” Dawson asked.

“Because Tuck had asked him to. He’d made it known to the sheriff’s department that I was his executor and should be contacted as soon as possible after he passed.”

“You make it sound like he knew he was dying.”

“I think he had a sense that it was coming,” Tanner said. “Tuck Hostetler was an old man, and he wasn’t afraid to confront the realities of his advancing age.” He shook his head. “I just hope I can be as organized and resolute when my time approaches.”

Amanda and Dawson exchanged glances but said nothing.

“I urged him to let you both know about his final wishes and plans, but he wanted to keep them secret for some reason. I still can’t explain it.” Tanner sounded almost paternal. “He also made it obvious that he cared deeply about you two.”

Dawson sat forward. “I know it isn’t important, but how did you two know each other?”

Tanner nodded, as if he’d expected the question. “I met Tuck eighteen years ago, when I brought in a classic Mustang for him to restore. At the time, I was a partner at a large firm in Raleigh. I was a lobbyist, if you want to know the truth. Did a lot of work with agriculture. But to make a long story short, I stayed down here for a few days to monitor the progress. I only knew of Tuck by reputation and I didn’t quite trust him with my car. Anyway, we kind of got to know each other, and I realized I liked the pace of life around here. A few weeks later, when I finally came back to pick up my car, he didn’t charge me near what I thought he would, and I was amazed at his work. Fast-forward fifteen years. I was feeling burned out and I decided on a whim to move down here and retire. Only it didn’t quite take. After a year or so, I opened a small practice. Not much, just wills mainly and a real estate closing now and then. I don’t need to work, but it gives me something to do. And my wife couldn’t be happier that I’m out of the house for a few hours a week. Anyway, I happened to see Tuck at Irvin’s one morning and told him that if he ever needed anything, I’d be around. And then, last February, surprising no one more than me, he took me up on the offer.”

“Why you and not—”

“Another attorney in town?” Tanner asked, finishing for him. “I got the impression that he wanted an attorney who didn’t have deep roots in this town. He didn’t put much faith in attorney-client privilege, even when I assured him it was absolute. Is there anything more I can add that I didn’t cover?”

When Amanda shook her head, he pulled the file closer to him and slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “Then let’s get started. Tuck left instructions on how he wanted me to handle things as his executor. You should know those wishes included the fact that he didn’t want a traditional funeral. Instead, he asked that, after his death, I arrange for cremation, and per his wishes as to the timing, Tuck Hostetler was cremated yesterday.” He motioned toward the box on his desk, leaving no doubt that it held Tuck’s ashes.

Amanda paled. “But we arrived yesterday.”

“I know. He’d asked that I try to take care of it before you arrived.”

“He didn’t want us there?”

“He didn’t want anyone there.”

“Why not?”

“All I can say is that he was specific in his instructions. But if I were to guess, I think he was under the impression that having to make any of the arrangements might have been upsetting to you.” He lifted a page from the file and held it up. “He said — and I’m quoting him here—‘ain’t no reason my death should be a burden to ’em.’ ” Tanner removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair, trying to gauge their reactions.

“In other words, there’s no funeral?” Amanda asked.

“Not in the traditional sense, no.”

Amanda turned toward Dawson and back to Tanner again. “Then why did he want us to come?”

“He asked that I contact you in the hope that you would do something else for him, something more important than the cremation. Essentially, he wanted the two of you to scatter his ashes at a place he said was very special to him, a place apparently neither of you has ever visited.”

It took Amanda only a moment to figure it out. “His cottage at Vandemere?”

Tanner nodded. “That’s it. Tomorrow would be ideal, at whatever time you choose. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I’ll have it taken care of. I have to go up there anyway.”