Sunny sat around the table in the meeting room with Marty and Yvonne, going over their workloads and determining which files to hand over to associates. He was almost too busy to attend this meeting, and almost sat it out to attend to administrative work with Tori that had been sitting too long and needed attention. 

Later, he would wonder at how close he'd come to missing reuniting with the two remaining friends of his youth. If he'd missed the meeting, he would have missed this news:

"A will needs administration. Martha Anderson passed away."

Sunny looked up sharply from the notes he was jotting. "Martha Anderson?" he asked. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Do you know this woman?" Yvonne asked.

"I'm not sure. I knew a Mrs. Anderson a long time ago, when I was growing up in Queensborough, but that was back in the late Seventies, early Eighties, and I don't know if I ever heard her first name; we were kids, and to call an older person by their first name would have been rude."

Yvonne looked inside the file folder containing the will. "This Martha Anderson resided on Ewen Avenue in New Westminster."

"Holy shit," Sunny breathed. "She just died? She was old back then, I thought she would have died a long time ago."

"According to her birthdate, she would have been... one hundred and four."

"My God."

"So, we need to start the process," Yvonne went on. "There's an organization the will asks us to contact, the New Westminster Historical Society, as they've apparently been working intimately to organize her memorial service long beforehand." Yvonne shook her head and chuckled. "I bet she knew her time was overdue and wanted to plan a grande send off for herself."

"She was a good person," Sunny said, not liking Yvonne's intimation that she was some kind of glory hound. "She helped my friends and me a long time ago. We helped another kid leave an abusive home."

Yvonne raised her eyebrows in surprise. Marty asked, "Do you want this one, Sunny? I know you have a lot on your plate."

"I don't know," he said, worrying that his esteem for the older woman was going to saddle him with an extra file he didn't need.

"We also need to contact the intended executor," Yvonne said, "and apparently she's been hard to track down."

"She?" he asked, feeling his heart rate pick up, although he didn't know why.

Yvonne nodded. "Her name is Rachel McWilliam."

He sprang from his chair and held out his hand. "I'll take it."

Task number one: a phone call to Marjorie Wilson of the New Westminster Historical Society. To his surprise, Martha Anderson was willing her house to them. That house with the dolls, where they'd sometimes gone to chat with her and ask her advice, where she'd made them sandwiches and lemonade, and they'd listened to Rachel play the piano. 

Rachel McWilliam. Executor of her estate. What were the chances it was another woman with the same name? Zero. He remembered how well Mrs. Anderson thought of the nearly feral girl with the soiled clothes and the tangled hair, raised without a mother for eight years of her life, by a father who worked all the time and didn't know how to raise a girl. The older woman had been like a stand-in mother or grandmother to her, so in a way it was no surprise she wanted Rachel to be executor of her will.

"We have it all set up," Marjorie said when he called her. "We put the obituary in the Record. She's being cremated in a private ceremony I and a few others in the Society are attending, since she had no kin at the end of her life. Her cremains will be placed in an urn she picked out herself to match her husband's. The urn will be on display at the memorial service this coming Saturday. We have the dolls she wants displayed, as well as the flowers, food and drink arranged for delivery to Queensborough Community Centre; we have the clippings binder that shows all the clippings that featured her over the years, and we have the slideshow of pictures she wanted projected on the wall."

"My goodness," Sunny said. "It sounds as if this has been planned for a long time."

"Mrs. Anderson and I had become good friends in her sunset years," Marjorie said with a hint of emotion in her voice. "We discussed her passing quite a lot, and she wanted to make sure no one had to scramble to put something together after she died, since, like I said, she had no kin to do it. She was quite pragmatic about it. I can only hope I'll be that clear-headed when my time comes."

"This will be easy, then," Sunny said. "Now, as for the matter of the executor..."

"Yes. That's been harder," Marjorie said regretfully. "We don't know if she married or not, because we couldn't track her down. Mrs. Anderson wrote a letter for her whenever she's found. I'll bring it over to you if you'd like."

"That would be very helpful, thank you. Don't worry about finding the executor. The firm uses an investigator for those kinds of tasks, and the estate will be billed accordingly."

"Oh! Well, good. I hope she decides to take it, if you find her, that is. I'd like to talk with her; apparently, Mrs. Anderson was very fond of her when she was young, and never forgot about her even when she moved away. She talked about her a lot when we chatted and reminisced about old times."

"How lovely," Sunny said, feeling emotional himself at the thought of this lifelong affection. He just resisted the urge to tell Marjorie that he once knew Mrs. Anderson himself, and that he was once a friend of Rachel's; he didn't want to jinx their chances of finding her because, irrationally, he thought telling Marjorie all of that would keep Rachel out of their reach. "Well, I'll get back to you soon, regarding the legalities of using Martha Anderson's house as a museum. We'll have to apply to the City for a zoning change, so it may take some time, but I'll be with you every step of the way."

"Thank you, Mr. Parhar. And good luck finding Rachel."

"Thank you." They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Task number two: find Rachel. Luckily, he had the perfect person for the job. 

"Hey, Sunny, what's up?" Lauren asked when he had her on the phone.

"You're not going to believe this," he said.

"What is it?"

"Remember Martha Anderson? From Queensborough?"

"Yeah? The older woman who helped us that time with the Trybeks? And who was kind of a mentor to Rachel?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"She came to my wedding because Joe's family invited her. She must have passed away years ago, though."

"As a matter of fact, she only just passed away now."

"What?!" she squawked. "She was old back then! How old was she when she died, a hundred?"

"A hundred and four, actually."

"Fuck," she breathed. "So, what, was there an obituary in the paper over there?"

"There was, in the New Westminster Record, which you may or may not know was the old Royal City Record we used to deliver."

"Oh, yeah. I gave it up after Rachel left."

"But the reason I'm actually calling you is, our firm represents her estate."

Lauren was silent for a moment before saying, "You're shitting me."

"Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are."

"So... okay, so, she has a will?"

"Yes, they drew it up some years ago, before I started there. I was given the file to review just today. I've read the will. Now, here is where we need you."

"I'm intrigued. An investigator for a will?"

"For the most part it's pretty straightforward. The beneficiaries are clearly laid out and they'd been in constant contact with Mrs. Anderson. There's no next of kin to track down. There's one person, though, we do need to find. And we can't find her."

"Her?"

Sunny let a moment go by without saying anything.

"What?" Lauren asked, perturbed.

"That person is Rachel."

Lauren gasped. "Our Rachel?!"

"Yup. Rachel McWilliam."

"And you... you want to hire me to find her?!"

Sunny chuckled at Lauren's incredulity. "She's proving hard to find. It could be she has a married name that we just don't know about."

"Huh. Rachel, married. I can't picture it."

"Would any of us have pictured us married when we were thirteen?"

"No, I guess not."

"Look, I'm sure if I really tried I might be able to find her, but I just don't have the time, and this kind of work is up your alley, and the Anderson estate will pay for your time, and... frankly... I want it to be you who finds her."

Lauren's voice was heavy as she said, "Thanks, Sunny. I'd consider it an honour to do this work. It will be my sacred quest."

"You know," Sunny said, a little wistfully, "I kind of feel bad. We've been reunited about four years now, and yet we never looked for her, or for Al."

"I do too," she said. "I'd like to excuse myself by saying work and family takes up my entire time, especially after Joe's dad got sick, but that just sounds kind of weak."

"Maybe you're still feeling sore?"

"Sore?" she asked, confused.

"Rachel never called after she moved away. I know you were hurt by that."

She took a moment to respond. "Nah, I really don't think that's it."

"Well, anyway," he said. "If you find her, can you give me her information and let me call her first?"

"Uh... okay. Is there a reason?"

"I need to be the one to tell her about the will."

"Oh. Legal thing?"

"Yeah. Hey, there's a memorial being organized by the New Westminster Historical Society. Mrs. Anderson's cremains are going to be there in an urn, it'll be a whole thing. Maybe... if you can track Rachel down in time... we can have a proper reunion."

He heard the smile in Lauren's voice when she said, "That would be nice. And kind of full circle, don't you think?"

It took her barely any time at all to find her.

"Her name is Rachel Chan, now," she said.

"Chan?" Sunny asked, wondering why he found the last name so inconceivable. Was it racist of him to be unable to picture Rachel marrying a person of Asian descent?

"Yes. No mention of the husband's name, though. She's divorced."

"Wow. Divorced. Rachel. This is crazy."

"Yeah..." Lauren sounded pensive. 

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. She's an accountant, but she's in between jobs, I think."

"Why do I think you know more than you're telling me?"

"Okay, look, I found her through Facebook, and I know you wanted to contact her first, but I sent her a friend request, if that's okay."

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I guess, as long as you didn't say what you do and why you're looking for her."

"No, of course not. Just an old friend looking to reconnect. I actually found Al, too, and sent him one."

"You did?!" he squawked. "That was fast!"

"What can I say? Facebook is a godsend. He works at Vancouver Public Library."

"Sounds like him. He was always quiet and unassuming, I can see him liking a job in a place that requires quiet."

"I don't think libraries are as quiet as you remember, but I agree about his character." 

"Did you get a number for Rachel?"

"Yes," she said, and gave it to him. 

"Thank you. Great work, Lauren, and be sure to send us an invoice, even though it was a short amount of time."

"Sunny?" She sounded hesitant.

"Yes?"

"Just... when you call her, be clear who you are, and be gentle with her."

He frowned. "Why wouldn't I do that? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"It's just... reading her Facebook page, it seems she's had some... difficulty lately, and she might not be in a good place. I called her previous work, and a coworker of hers says she was fired for embezzlement, but she thinks Rachel was framed, and I do too."

Of course she would. Lauren and Rachel had been the closest of all of them, and he wasn't surprised, even after thirty years' estrangement, that Lauren's faith in her would be absolute. "I couldn't see Rachel doing that either."

"Yeah, I know, something's up, and I don't like the smell of it, just from reading her Facebook and Twitter feeds..."

"Oh, there's Twitter, too?"

"Yeah, but it's kind of different, I'll explain another time." 

He sighed. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

He hung up, feeling uneasy, which wasn't what he expected at all, given the good news of Lauren finding her. It was why he didn't call her right away. That, and Tori burst in with a new fire to put out.

It was late in the day, long after everyone else went home, when he finally called her. The phone rang a few times before it was finally picked up.

"Hello?"

Her voice, hesitant but still pleasant. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd last seen her. Was this really her?

"Hi. Rachel?"

"Yes."

"Rachel Chan, nee McWilliam?"

She sighed, rather resignedly. Maybe she thought he was a telephone marketer. "Yes," she said flatly.

"This is Sunny Parhar, I don't know if you remember me..."

"Sunny!" she exclaimed, and now her voice was bright and beautiful. "Holy shit! Of course I remember you. You know, it's interesting you're calling right now. I just ran into Al Mackenzie, and he said you were looking for me."

He nearly fell out of his chair. "Al? Seriously? How did he know?"

"He said Lauren called him."

"Lauren, ah, yes. I get it now. I originally called Lauren. She must have tracked down everybody, which shouldn't have surprised me."

"I don't get it. Why did you call Lauren?"

"I needed her to track you down. She's a private investigator, and our firm uses her for a lot of our cases."

"Holy shit! Lauren's a private investigator?!"

"Yeah. Crazy, eh? She said she'd thought about being a cop but she didn't want to disappoint her dad by becoming an agent of the same state that interned his family. I just think she didn't like the thought of following orders or swallowing the boy's club bullshit."

"Sounds like Lauren. Why didn't I ever think of becoming a private investigator?!"

"I don't know. I thought that would have been up your alley too. What attracted you to accounting?"

"Oh, you know I was an accountant?"

He cleared his throat. "Lauren dug up some things."

Silence on the other end of the line. He thought he should say something else. "She thinks you're innocent, by the way, and so do I."

More silence.

"Rachel? You there?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes. Sorry, I still don't understand. Why did you need to track me down? Was it to tell me Mrs. Anderson passed away?"

"Did Al tell you that too?"

"Yeah, sorry to steal your thunder."

"I meant to call earlier but I got swamped at the office."

"Are you a lawyer? The call display said Westminster Law Group."

"Yes. We do family law, and wills and estates. Actually, that's the real reason I wanted to track you down. You see, Mrs. Anderson left a will, and our firm administers it. I only just found this out after she passed away, because I wasn't assigned the file originally."

"Okay," she said hesitantly. 

"Now, her will was very specific, and left lots of instructions. For example, her memorial is this Saturday, I don't know if Al told you that."

"He did."

"Yes, and the New Westminster Historical Society is completely in charge of it, as per her instructions; they worked closely together, especially in her final years. But there is one instruction she left that necessitated us contacting you."

"What's that?" she asked.

"She wants you to be executor of her will."

"What?!" she squawked. "But I haven't even talked to her in thirty years! Why does she want me to do it?"

"I guess she must have held you in higher esteem than you thought."

Silence. 

"Listen," he said, "I know this is a lot to take in. Maybe we can talk more about it if you come to the memorial."

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Sunny."

"I have to go. Family's waiting for me at home."

"You have a family?"

"Yup. Wife, two kids."

"Okay. Thanks for calling, Sunny."

"Take it easy, Rachel. Bye."

"Bye."

And just like that, one more friend of his youth was back in his life. If Al came to the memorial, the reunion would be complete.

Thanks for reading this far! If you've read the first two titles in this series, you'll know the scenes in this chapter appeared in some form from Rachel's and Lauren's points of view. I thought I would show it from Sunny's, since it was his first taking on administration of the will that caused the whole reunion in the first place. If you liked what you just read, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. If something doesn't ring true about the legal process around wills, feel free to leave a comment; I strive for authenticity.

Now, let's return to Lauren in the present day, and a heartbreaking revelation waiting for her when she wakes up, by clicking on "Continue reading."