She looked at the unused theater tickets again and pictured an alternative scenario, where her dad hadn’t kept her mum waiting. Grant and Carol walked to the theater together arm in arm and watched West Side Story. They enjoyed a happy-ever-after, and Liv smiled.

But then her eyes settled on the date on the ticket and the curve of her lips fell. November 1, 1989.

The publication date of Essie’s first novel.

And something hit Liv like a wrecking ball, almost knocking her off her feet.

November 1 must also be the date her dad died.

She shivered, as if drenched by a surprise storm. A warning bell clanged in her head and she wasn’t sure why.

Surely, it was all a strange coincidence.

31

BRIEFCASE

When Anthony arrived at Essie’s apartment to share the will with Liv, he wore a white rose in his buttonhole and had a speck of confetti on his shoulder. His formal, distant air had returned as he sat down at Essie’s dining table.

Liv supposed it was a serious occasion, and she felt stiff, too. Finishing the manuscript had been like giving birth. It brought back memories of delivering Mack and Johnny, after her adrenaline rush faded and she wanted to crawl into a cave to hibernate.

She poured glasses of water and drank hers in one go, trying to get rid of a jittery sensation in her stomach. The stack of documents Anthony took from his briefcase could change her life and fortunes around forever.

The solicitor cleared his throat. “As you know, in three weeks’ time, the six-month period Essie specified for her death to be kept a secret will be over,” he said. “We’ve both made it through alive.”

Liv smiled weakly. She jiggled a leg under the table, urging him to move on. She had the striped tie in her pocket, but Georgia’s courage was evading her.

“First of all, a few logistics,” he said, passing a piece of paper to her. “This is Essie’s obituary. I started to write it, but you’re far better at these kinds of things.”

As Liv read the words, tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away, unable to bear reading about Essie’s death. “What happens now?” she said.

“On November the first, notice will be posted in the London Gazette and a local paper notifying everyone of Essie’s death under her real name and pen name, to enable any creditors to come forward. Her obituary will be more of a tribute to her, to be published more widely. I will personally contact Marlon so he can pass on the news to others in the publishing industry.”