Page 22 of The Romance Adventure

Still in the walk-in closet, Bean says, “All you have to do is read the papers.”

“Read what papers?”

“The will.”

My head tilts to the side like a dog, listening carefully and making sure it heard correctly. I stride over to the closet at the same time my sister emerges holding a pair of black, patent leather high heels. “These should fit.”

“Bean, what will?”

“The last will and testament of the Almeida estate. It’s simple. Don’t sweat it. Everyone on the island has more than one job.”

“Last I checked, I have none jobs on this island. As in not one, certainly not two.”

“Quickly, put this on.” She starts tugging at my tank top.

I grip her upper arms. “Robyn Patience Pratt, what has gotten into you?”

Despite my nickname for my sister, out of the two of us, Bean is the sister who has her life together—she is a paralegal with numerous other credentials. She runs a side hustle and doesn’t sleep at truck stops or spill smoothies on attractive men. At least not that I know of.

“I can explain everything later.”

“If you want to stuff my feet into those high heels, I want the full story, now.”

Two minutes later, I’m wearing an itchy business suit and am incredibly uncomfortable while Bean gives me a quick rundown of the Almeida estate—Carlos passed away, left everything to his grandsons, end of story.

“You look great.” Bean’s smile is the kind of frenzied derangement that I’m familiar with when I look in the mirror.

“I look like a penguin who got lost and landed in the tropics.”

“You’re going to be great,” Bean says, pumping me up.

I stumble in her heels. Even though she’s shorter, my feet are smaller. “Can I just wear my Converse?”

“Ask yourself, would I?”

“No one will see my feet under the desk.”

“Remember to get up and greet the family.”

“I have paint under my nails. No one will buy that I’m you.”

“They’re expecting Mr. Edmonton and don’t know what I look like, so they’ll be none the wiser. Those boys have been gone a long time. They don’t know any different and no one has to know.”

We pause in the hallway. Bean’s eyebrows pinch together. “Please do this for me? I can’t pass up my teleconference meeting with the coffee company from Brazil. If I get this account, Beans & Books is going to take off.”

I let out a sigh, not feeling good about this situation.

“You said you’re broke. I’ll pay you.”

“I said my credit card may as well have a no vacancy sign. There is no room on it. But you don’t have to pay me.”

“And you can stay here as long as you want.”

“What about Mr. Edmonton? What if I make a mistake? What if I get arrested for—?” The almost-forgery incident crashes into my mind.

“All you have to do is read from these documents.” She shoves them in my hands. “It’s that simple. Think of it like a script. That’s all I would do, anyway. I never even met Mr. Almeida.”

“But you studied law.”