Two Friends and a Funeral Read online

  Two Friends and a Funeral

  by Wendy Dalrymple

  Copyright © 2021 by Wendy Dalrymple

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Kateryna Dronova

  First eBook edition November 2020.

  Published by Wendy Dalrymple

  www.wendydalrymple.com

  Chapter One

  Amy Grimes stood on the balcony of her Vero Beach condo watching the sun rise over a sparkling expanse of navy blue sea. It was just after 7:00 a.m. and she had already checked off all the boxes on her morning routine: a two-mile jog on the beach, shower, skincare regimen, and coffee. Amy twisted her long brunette locks up into the kind of bun that meant she was ready for business and opened her laptop to get started for the day. Her work queue was full and she had a dozen emails requiring her attention, including one from a new client and one from her accountant. Amy settled into her chaise lounge overlooking her waterfront view, cozied up to her favorite cashmere throw and smiled. Despite the long list of work she had lined up, Amy knew it was going to be a good and productive week.

  Business had been pretty great for Amy the past four years — better than great, in fact. Things were going so well that she had recently been courted by not one but two tech companies to purchase her LLC. Considering that she was just a little girl from the backwoods of River Ranch, Florida, her nearly million-dollar business and paid-with-cash condo overlooking an expanse of powdery white, palm tree-lined Atlantic shores was nothing short of a miracle. Amy appreciated and enjoyed her hard-earned status every day and loved every inch of her ultra-modern home, from her walk-in closet stocked with designer clothes to her stark white furniture and clean aesthetic. Amy’s perfectly curated corner of the world was literally and metaphorically miles away from the world she knew as a child. Though she loved her family and their messy, ancient home tucked away in the Central Florida woods, growing up, she always knew that she was destined for silk, leather, and high-rises with a view.

  Amy sighed contentedly as she weeded through her inbox and fielded an array of requests for adding new clients to her innovative online security platform. The patented ViruSmart technology she had developed in college catapulted her to success in the IT world, bringing her a small amount of notoriety and a decent amount of wealth well before her thirtieth birthday. Her condo in Vero Beach was only one of three properties Amy bounced between throughout the year, and was as much a symbol of her freedom as it was a symbol of her success.

  After an hour of closing out tickets and responding to customers, Amy readjusted the elastic of her chestnut-brown bun and stretched in the early morning sunlight. Her head was still focused on her work, but her heart was already in Belize, where she would soon be snorkeling with her personal assistant and ride-or-die travel partner-in-crime Tausha. It had been a solid six months since she and Tash had gotten away together, and she knew her best girlfriend and most trusted employee would be happy for a few sun-soaked days away from the responsibilities of family life. Unlike Tausha, Amy could essentially pick up and go whenever and wherever she wanted without having a husband or other responsibilities to think about, and that was just the way she liked it.

  Just as Amy was about to take a break for the morning, a new message appeared in her email and caught her attention. She took a sip of coffee and clicked back to her email tab and saw a name in her inbox that always made her smile.

  Owen Durant.

  Her oldest friend from back home was a tech professional just like she was, but unlike herself, Owen still held on to his country roots with two closed, calloused fists. He was an enigma in that way, and the idea of him splattered in mud from riding his ATV while solving intricate IT security issues always made her laugh. Owen wasn’t usually one to email — in fact, she was usually the one to reach out to him — so seeing his message instantly caught her attention. But it wasn’t his name in her inbox that made her do a double blink. Instead it was the subject line.

  RE: Uncle LeRoy’s Funeral

  Uncle LeRoy!

  Amy instantly knew that the contents of the email were bound to be a big deal. Owen’s Uncle LeRoy was something of a local celebrity in Central Florida, with a voice and a face that everyone in their county recognized. A day wouldn’t go by during her childhood without being exposed to the leader of the Durant family, as his likeness was plastered all over billboards, on the radio, or on television. The commercial tagline for their combination cattle, citrus, and timber business “Gettin’ it Done with Durant '' set to the tune of a twangy pop country song was an earwig that haunted Amy to this day. LeRoy’s wide, toothy grin was always prominently featured front and center on Durant company advertisements and the image was permanently engraved in her memory. Uncle LeRoy was dead? How could that be?

  Owen. With his classic Florida boy farmer’s tan, penchant for boots and baseball caps, and appreciation for all things outdoors, it was hard for some people to see how he and Amy had anything in common. Amy’s own Tory Burch dresses and Versace heels wouldn’t stand a chance at the Durant family ranch these days. Even though Owen knew his stuff when it came to IT and kept the tech side of his family business running Monday through Friday, on the weekends, she knew he was happiest slogging through the forest, sitting atop an ATV, or relaxing by a fire pit. Their stark difference in interests and lifestyle choices endeared him to her and put a definitive pin in any possibility of romance between them all at the same time.

  After a moment of hesitation, Amy finally clicked on the email and prepared herself for what it might say. She was only slightly annoyed that Owen decided to email her about something so sensitive in the first place, but then again, that’s just the type of thing Owen would do. A call would be nice now and then, she grumbled to herself as she read the contents of the email. She smiled, glad to be hearing from her old friend just the same.

  The note was brief, as all communication from Owen Durant typically was, and simply asked for her to call him when she wasn’t busy. The note also hinted that her presence at Uncle LeRoy’s funeral would be appreciated. Amy had grown up on the Durant property as the scrawny kid next door that his wealthy family took in like a stray cat. It had been more than ten years since Amy had set foot on the estate, but with the Durant family being ViruSmart’s number one customer, she and Owen had stayed in regular contact through the years. They would grab a beer when she came home for the holidays and while she would have loved to have invited him to stay at one of her many investment properties, he chose not to venture far from the comforts of his cushy country home. It had occurred to Amy on more than one occasion that if Owen would just allow himself to enjoy places other than Central Florida every now and then, maybe things could be more than just friendly between them.

  Amy closed her eyes and cast her mind back to those hot as hell summer days spent with Owen. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye as they tore around the pine scrub forest surrounding his family property, then cooled off in their pool until Amy’s grandparents called her home. She was more adventurous back then and didn’t mind getting a few scraped knees or stings from bees. Maybe she really liked stomping around in the woods when she was younger, or maybe she just liked being near Owen. Later there was one summer in particular when their high-fives suddenly turned into hand-holding, followed by a few stolen moments behind the stables and a shared kiss under the stars. She shook away the memory of one particularly hot and heavy Fourth of July so many summers ago as she picked up her phone and automatically dialed the number she knew so well.
Even though their brief teenage encounter was half a lifetime ago, those memories lingered in her mind and always brought heat to her cheeks whenever she allowed herself to reminisce on them.

  Amy knew she didn’t have to go to the funeral, but she was keenly aware that if Owen was asking for her to come, things must be pretty bad. She picked up her phone and dialed, listening as it rang exactly three times before the husky drawl that could only belong to Owen Durant mumbled, “Hello?” in her ear. She bit her lip and paused before greeting him and bracing herself for whatever he had to say. Amy had no way of knowing it at the time, but the death of LeRoy Durant had set in motion a chain of events that would change her life forever.

  Chapter Two

  Owen Durant absent-mindedly kicked the dirt loose from the treads of his boot as he stared at the laptop screen in front of him. It was a Monday morning in early February — a cool, clear fifty-eight degrees — and he wanted nothing more than to crack open his new paintball gun and test it out in the woods behind his home office. He would rather be fishing out at DeSoto lake or even driving his family’s prized Black Angus cattle clear across the acres of Durant property with his younger brother Dominic. He would rather be doing just about anything other than staring at a screen again on that fine Florida winter morning. But before he could even dream of tromping off into his beloved woods, Owen had a few loose ends to tie up with work, and an important email to send out. An email that was not going to be easy to explain.

  Uncle LeRoy’s death didn’t exactly come as a surprise to everyone in the Durant family. The old codger had been living off oxygen and borrowed time for the past year, keeping everyone on his will in suspense. Owen knew he should have felt more remorse at his uncle’s passing… hell, everyone should have felt more remorse. But LeRoy Ashley Durant Jr. wasn’t exactly an easy person to get along with and was even more difficult to please and impress. While Owen knew he was his Uncle LeRoy’s favorite nephew, even he wasn’t immune to the infamous wrath of their family figurehead. Owen knew he would need to act fast if he was going to take over his uncle’s shares of the Durant family wealth, and that’s where Amy Grimes would come in.

  Amy.

  Owen’s childhood best friend-turned-business associate was the first and only person he would have ever considered for his scheme. What he was about to ask of her was highly inappropriate, bizarre, and possibly even illegal, and he knew that only Amy could be trusted to help him. If she said no, then everything that Owen had been working on for the past ten years would be for nothing.

  After typing and then retyping the email, obsessively reading it and deleting and retyping it again, Owen finally settled on just the right wording. He was used to keeping his business communications brief, but this was not a quick note kind of situation. Owen knew he could call Amy, but he assumed she was probably busy and didn’t want to disturb her. Amy was always busy. She could be out jogging or on the phone with a client or maybe even at the bottom of a cenote with a scuba tank on her back for all he knew. He didn’t want to be a bother, and so a simple, obsessively crafted email would have to do.

  Owen exhaled heavily through his nose and sent the email with his heart banging away in his chest. There was no way to get out of what he was going to ask her now. He didn’t know what she would say when she eventually called, but hell, who would? It wasn’t every day you called up the person you kissed fifteen summers ago, the same person who had since become one of your best friends and a whip smart business partner. It wasn’t every day that you asked that person the biggest favor you would ask anyone in your entire life. It wasn’t every day that….

  She thinks my tractor’s sexy!

  Owen nearly jumped out of his skin as the tinny country song sliced the silence of his office. Amy’s custom ringtone was something of an inside joke, but as he struggled to steady his heart, he wondered if maybe it was time to change the ringer on his phone. Amy Grimes and Kenny Chesney’s lyrics had nearly given him a heart attack. He hit send on his email to her only a few minutes before and hadn’t been expecting a call back so soon. Owen dusted the cobwebs away from his mind and focused as he grabbed his loud, obnoxious phone. It was go time.

  “Hullo,” he said, clearing his throat. “Amy?”

  “Owen,” she laughed on the other line. “Hi.”

  Owen took off his baseball cap and scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his newly cropped hair. He cleared his throat again and stared out the window, trying to stall for time. He didn’t know how the hell he was going to do this.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Uncle LeRoy,” she finally said, filling the dead air on the line. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Fine,” he exhaled. “I’m fine, thank you. Thanks for calling back so soon.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, her voice softer now. “I saw the subject line and didn’t want to wait. What’s up?”

  Owen cleared his throat again. How was he supposed to say what he needed to say? How was he supposed to actually ask her?

  “Yeah, um. I was wondering… I mean I was hoping… you spent a lot of time around here growing up. LeRoy looked on you just like one of his nieces. I was just thinkin’….”

  “Owen, I’m coming to the funeral, don’t worry,” she said, her voice soft and sweet in his ear. He closed his eyes and exhaled in relief.

  “Thanks.”

  Another moment of silence passed between them on the line. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say it.

  “I can come on Friday and stay the weekend,” she started again. “I’ll even take you out for a beer. It’s been a while since we caught up anyway.”

  “Well,” he said, clearing his throat again. “I was actually hoping you could come a little sooner than Friday.”

  Amy chuckled in his ear.

  “I figured there might be something else.”

  He could practically see her shaking her head at him.

  “I was hoping you could come on Wednesday… for the reading of the will.”

  Owen heard Amy crunching in the background.

  “What for?” she said, around a mouthful of food. “I mean, if you need like, some moral support or something I’m there.”

  Owen sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Maybe it would be better if you just got here and then I could tell you all about it over that beer?” he asked. “I know you’re probably swamped, and it’s a lot to ask, but I really need your help with something.”

  Amy stopped crunching on the other line.

  “Sure thing then, O,” she said. “The beauty and burden of working for yourself is that you can take your office anywhere. I’ll have some work to finish up this week, but I’ve been meaning to come visit my folks anyway. I’ll be there Wednesday.”

  Owen exhaled again and smiled for the first time that morning.

  “Thanks, Ame.”

  “Meet me at The Watering Trough on Wednesday? Say about five?”

  “You read my mind,” he smiled into the phone. “It’s a date.”

  Owen cringed at the word.

  Why did my dumb ass have to say date?

  “Sounds good, Durant. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Owen’s temples throbbed as he tossed his phone back on the counter next to his despised laptop. The prospect of what was likely to unfold over the next few days had begun to set in and paralyze him. Frustrated, he closed up his computer and decided he had done enough for the day. He was allowed to take some time off to work out his thoughts. He was still mourning for his uncle, after all.

  Owen geared up his new paintball gun, his face mask, and a loaded magazine of paintballs and opened the back door of his office. When he was having a tough day or was just frustrated with work, being able to stomp back into the woods and throw axes, shoot at aluminum cans, or take a quick spin on his ATV always made him feel better. The outdoors saved his sanity on a daily basis, but Owen knew that no amount of target practice or mudding would help him now. As he trudged toward the
treeline that spilled into the expanse of the Durant family property, one thought, and one thought alone, dominated his head and his heart.

  How was he actually going to convince Amy Grimes to marry him?

  Chapter Three

  The tires on Amy’s BMW crunched over the gravel driveway leading up to the modest three bedroom, one bath residence she used to call home. Not much had changed since she had moved out of her parents house right after high school; her tire swing still hung from the big oak in the front yard, her mother’s creepy angel statue still stood guard by the front door, her dad’s rusted shell of a 1970 VW beetle continued to deteriorate under a tarp in the driveway. The view was somehow comforting and triggering all at once.

  The low howl of her mother’s beagle, Cookie, sounded from the front window and the vertical blinds shook, signaling that Amy had been spotted. She pulled around to the back of her white Series 4 Coupe, popped the trunk, and retrieved her Louis Vuitton signature logo luggage. She had only packed her bandouliere duffle and laptop bag and was determined to stay until Saturday or Sunday at the most. It wouldn’t take much for Rhonda and Jeff Grimes to entice her to stay longer, but unfinished business and a lack of clean laundry were always a good excuse to go home.

  As Amy neared the front porch with her $2,000 duffel at hand, her mother came into view in the doorway. It had only been a month since she had seen her family for Christmas, but they had all flown out to her Colorado condo to enjoy some holiday snow. Rhonda Grimes still looked much like she always had standing on the rickety front porch with her signature shaggy frosted bouffant of hair and cartoon character T-shirts. She clasped her hands together, displaying long, hot pink acrylic nails that shone under the dappled early morning sun, and her heavily lined eyelids shimmered with joy.

  “Aymeeee!” her mother crooned, scooping her into a hug. “You’re early!”