The Life List Read Online Free PDF

to the letter and wave him on.
    “You sure?” he asks, his hand on my back.
    I nod, the tissue pinched on my nose.
    He looks skeptical, but he continues.
    “ ‘Let’s skip number two. I hope you did, indeed, kiss Nick Nicol, and I hope it was delightful.’ ”
    I smile. “It was.”
    Midar winks at me, and together we look at my list.
    “ ‘Let’s move down to number six,’ ” he reads. “ ‘ GET A DOG . I think this is a grand idea! Go find your puppy, Brett!’ ”
    “A dog? What makes you think I want a dog? I don’t have time for a fish, let alone a dog.” I look at Brad. “What happens if I don’t complete these goals?”
    He pulls out a stack of pink envelopes, bound together with a rubber band. “Your mother stipulated that each time you complete a life goal, you return to me and receive one of these envelopes. Upon completion of all ten goals, you get this.” He holds out an envelope that reads FULFILLMENT .
    “What’s in the FULFILLMENT envelope?”
    “Your inheritance.”
    “Of course,” I say, rubbing my temples. I look him square in the face. “Do you have any idea what this means?”
    He lifts his shoulders. “I’m guessing it’ll mean some major life revisions.”
    “Revisions? Life as I know it has just been shredded! And I’m supposed to piece it back together in a way that some—some kid wanted it to be?”
    “Look, if this is too much for you today, we can arrange to meet again.”
    I pull myself to my feet. “It is too much. I came here this morning expecting to walk out the CEO of Bohlinger Cosmetics. I was going to make my mother proud, take the business to new heights.” My throat seizes up and I swallow hard. “Instead I’m supposed to get a horse? Unbelievable!” I blink to keep my tears at bay and extend my hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Midar. I know this isn’t your fault. But I just can’t deal with this right now. I’ll be in touch.”
    I’m nearly out the door when Midar rushes to me, waving the life list. “Keep this,” he says, “in case you change your mind.” He tucks the list in my hands. “The clock’s ticking.”
    I cock my head. “What clock?”
    He looks down at his Cole Haans, sheepish. “You must complete at least one goal by the end of this month. In one year from today—that’d be September thirteenth of next year—the entire list is to be completed.”

CHAPTER THREE

    T hree hours after sauntering into the Aon Center, I stumble out, my emotions flashing and fading like a meteor shower. Shock. Despair. Fury. Grief. I throw open the door of the Town Car. “One Thirteen North Astor Street,” I tell the driver.
    That little red book. I need that little red book! I’m stronger today—much stronger—and I’m ready to read my mother’s journal. Maybe she will explain herself, tell me why she’s doing this to me. It’s possible it’s not a journal after all, but rather an old business ledger. Perhaps I’ll learn that the business was in a financial free fall, and that’s why she didn’t leave it to me. Somehow, there must be an explanation.
    When the driver pulls up to the curb, I yank open the iron gate and race up the concrete steps. Without bothering to take off my shoes, I sprint up the stairs and head straight to her bedroom.
    My eyes survey the sun-drenched room. With the exception ofher lamp and jewelry box, the dresser is empty. I throw open the closet doors, but it’s not there. I hurl open drawers, and then turn to her bedside tables. Where is it? I rifle through her secretary’s desk, but find only embossed note cards, assorted pens, and stamps. Panic rises. Where the hell did I leave that book? I pulled it from the closet and put it … where? On the bed? Yes. Or did I? I flip back the comforter, praying it’ll be nestled within the bed-sheets. It’s not. My heart pounds. How could I have been so careless? I turn circles, raking a hand through my hair. What in God’s name did I do with that book? My memory