A stupid tear escaped. Raced down her cheek. Tonight she’d mustered the courage to return to the office and face what JT had left behind when he’d been killed. Willow could have let Dana Cooper, JT’s assistant, take care of some of it, but she’d told Dana to leave the office alone. They both needed time to mourn. Besides, Willow wanted to be the one to go through his things, including the mail.

She crumpled a piece of junk mail in her fist. Maybe she’d feel less fragile if she waited a few more days. Except the bills couldn’t wait until Willow had finished grieving. Nor could clients in any outstanding cases on which he’d worked.

I can do this. I have to do this.

What choice did she have?

The heat kicked on, reminding her of the chill in the air. She rubbed her arms. Only a corner of the warehouse had been renovated into offices for Anderson Consulting. The rest seemed like a waste to Willow, but JT had thought he’d gotten a great deal on real estate at the time. The vaulted space had given them room to spread out, but now it felt far too . . . empty. Willow would have to figure out what she would do with the business and the real estate it occupied.

With the mail spread out, an envelope from the Washington State Department of Health caught her attention. She tugged it from the pile. Hands shaking, she carefully slit the envelope with a letter opener and pulled out the official document.

Her grandfather’s death certificate.

Air whooshed from her lungs. Willow sank into a chair.

He’s gone. Really gone. She wouldn’t hear his words of wisdom. His jokes and boisterous laughter, or warm and friendly banter. At least not in this life.

JT had been one of a kind.

She touched his name on the certificate and, for good measure, let the shock of his death roll over her again. That moment she’d first heard the news.

JT had been killed riding his bike. To think he’d taken up the hobby as a way of extending his life after being diagnosed with cardiovascular disease. No plan had ever backfired so completely.

Why, why, why? You weren’t supposed to die yet.

Tension corded her neck. A sliver of anger cut through her that he’d died when he’d had so much life left in him. But trying to come up with answers when there were none was a futile endeavor. Willow forced herself to focus on the task at hand. At this rate, it was going to be a long night. She rolled her neck around to ease the stiffness.

The outer office door opened and closed. “Willow? You in there?” Dana called.

Great. She’d wanted time alone. “Yep. JT’s office.”