Fool Me Once (21 page)

The phone was ringing in her office when she started down the hall. Thinking it was Jeff returning her call, she clicked on and said, “Oh, you dear sweet man!”

The voice on the other end of the wire made Olivia cringe. “Obviously, Olivia, you were expecting someone else to be calling you. I'm sorry to disappoint you. This is Lea. I'm sure you know what's been going on with your father and me. At least that's what he led me to believe. How can you be so narrow-minded, so uncharitable in regard to Dennis and me? You could have made our lives so much easier. Dennis is your father. I treated you like a daughter, Olivia. I loved you because you were Dennis's daughter. Shame on you for being so selfish. You're just like your mother. If you loved Dennis, you would have found a way to make his life easier. It's all your fault that Dennis and I are separating. Your fault, Olivia! Do you hear me? I hope that money brings you nothing but misery. Are you listening to me, Olivia?” Lea screeched.

Olivia was too surprised to say anything. As she searched for words, the phone pinged in her ear. “Oh, God!” Tears burned her eyes as she grappled with what she'd just heard on the phone. She wasn't like Adrian Ames! She wasn't! Lea was the one who wanted the money! Not her father! Her father asked her to take out a mortgage. If he wanted the money, he would have asked for it. Wouldn't he? What if Lea was right? What if asking for the mortgage was to sidetrack her into thinking he didn't want the money to make her feel sorry for him? Lea was right, the money would make her father's life easier. Damn, she didn't know anything anymore.

The sudden desire to run away as far as she could go was so strong, she almost ran out of the room. She'd been deliriously happy a few minutes ago. Now, after one phone call, she was miserable. Her tears splashed down on the diamond on her finger. She cried harder as she dried off the ring.

Olivia squared her shoulders as she sat down at her desk. Lea could invade her thoughts only if she allowed it. Well, she wasn't going to allow it. Her face grim, she picked up the phone and dialed Darryl Spencer's phone number. It wasn't until she heard the man's voice that she realized she didn't have a reason for the phone call. She was going to have to wing it.

The voice on the phone was elderly, reedy, and thin-sounding. Olivia announced herself as Margaret Tyson, an intermediary in a forty-year-old insurance case. “I understand, Mr. Spencer, that you were the insurance investigator at the time. I'm sorry to say I am not able to divulge the name of my client at this time. My client is, however, prepared to pay back the money to Great Rock that they paid to the bank after the theft. Are you following me here, Mr. Spencer?”

“I think so. The company fired me after they paid out on the claim. The payout almost forced the company into bankruptcy. I was young back then and had never investigated anything like that claim. Mississippi forty years ago was a lot different than it is today. That's just another way of saying I didn't know what I was doing. But to this day, I still believe it was an inside job. There was something off-kilter about the owner of the bank, too. The company paid up real quick. I thought that was suspicious. At first the bank didn't even want to report the theft. I never could figure that out. There wasn't much follow-through, I can tell you that. Then they fired me, and I had to find other work because I'd just gotten married and we had a baby on the way. I did my best to nose around on my own time, but nothing ever came to light. That's about all I can tell you.”

“My client wants to pay back the money, Mr. Simpson.”

“Is your client the one who…made off with the bonds?”

“At this time, I'm not at liberty to say, Mr. Spencer. You said you thought it was an inside job. I believe those were your words. Who did you think was responsible?”

Olivia could hear a woman's voice in the background shouting to her husband to shut up and mind his own business. The female voice went on to say they were too old to get involved or sued for something that happened forty years ago. Olivia could barely make out Spencer's thin voice when he told his wife to shush, that it was time to speak up.

“I always thought it was that smug young girl who worked there part-time. She was a smart-alecky one, she was. Cool as a Popsicle on a hot summer's day, she was. She looked me right in the eye, defiant, daring me to accuse her. I couldn't do it because I had no proof. Mr. Augustus wouldn't hear one bad word about that girl. She was a student at Ole Miss. I could tell you—” The wife's voice in the background turned shrill as she screamed at her husband to shut up.

There was a small silence on the other end of the phone line, but Olivia could hear husband and wife hissing at each other. Whatever it was Spencer's wife said to her husband, it was effective, because he backed away from what he had been about to say. “They watched the young woman for a long time, years actually. At least that was the rumor. She got married right after graduation and moved away, and they tracked her for years, but nothing ever came to light. That was rumored, too. The company just gave up, I guess. After a while, I didn't care anymore. Why does the person you represent want to pay back the money? I'm sure the company closed the books on the payout.”

Olivia's gut churned. There was something Spencer wasn't telling her. Something his wife didn't want him to talk about. “Because it's the right thing to do, Mr. Spencer. My client also wants to pay the earnings the money would have generated if the insurance company had invested that sum of money.”

Darryl Spencer whistled. The sound was as weak-sounding as the man's voice.

“Well, I'll be doggoned. Imagine that! Well, good luck, miss.”

“Mr. Spencer, are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me? You can think of me as a reporter, a reporter who never divulges her sources.”

Spencer's silence went on too long. Finally, he said, “I told you all I know.”

Olivia sighed. She knew the man was lying, but what could she do? “Thank you for your time, Mr. Spencer.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair as she stared off into space.

A
s the hours wore on, Olivia was unable to get the conversation with Darryl Spencer out of her mind. What did he know or suspect that he was afraid to tell her? She tried diverting her thoughts to other things, like Jeff, the snow, her dinner that was going to be dried out. Even the dogs couldn't distract her.

It was nine o'clock when Olivia sat down to eat the almost ruined dinner. She chewed her way through her somewhat dry pork chop as she struggled to make sense out of what Spencer hadn't told her. She wondered what would happen if she called him back. Even though he was an old man, his mind seemed sharp, his memory clear. He and his wife had probably talked her phone call to death. If she called him back that night, she didn't think he'd part with anything. If she waited a day or so and caught him off guard, he might open up.

But did she want to do that? Why bring up the man's past? He didn't deserve to be lied to and grilled just so she could honor Adrian Ames's last wishes.

Olivia picked at the peach cobbler on her plate. Where was Jeff? Why hadn't he called her? Was he stuck out on the highway somewhere? She pushed her plate away just as the front doorbell rang. The dogs ran as fast as she did. The moment she opened the door and Jeff stepped inside, she threw herself into his arms. The dogs clamored for their share of attention.

“I couldn't call you—my cell battery died on the way here. I'm starved, honey. Do you have anything to eat?”

Olivia laughed as she helped Jeff off with his coat. “I made dinner, but it's kind of dried out. If you use a lot of gravy, it'll work. I even made dessert. How bad is it out there?”

Jeff grinned from ear to ear. “Bad enough that I won't be able to get to the office tomorrow. That's why I wanted to make it out here. I think the government will shut down in the morning, so that means our office will be closed, too. It took me four hours to get out here. Half the time I couldn't see. I pretty much just followed the taillights in front of me.”

Olivia beamed her pleasure as she dug into her peach cobbler while Jeff ate his dinner with gusto.

“This is really good, Olivia. I can't remember when I had stuffed pork chops last. My mother makes a casserole a little bit like this. I think I like this one better because I love garlic. I think I'm going to love being married to you if you promise to cook like this every night. I suspect we'll both have to sign up at the closest gym, though.”

Olivia beamed at the compliment. Guys never told girls they cooked better than their mothers.

“Tell me, what kind of day did you have?” he asked her between bites.

Olivia told him and concluded, “I don't think it's my imagination, Jeff, I think Mr. Spencer knows something his wife didn't want him to tell me. If he doesn't know it for certain, he suspects something. I was going to call him back, but I don't want to upset him. The poor man doesn't have a dog in this fight, so why pester him?

“Tomorrow, I'm going to call Adrian Ames's attorney, make an appointment, and go on from there. I want this over and done with so I can get back to work.”

Olivia poured more wine into Jeff's glass. “Good Lord, I forgot to tell you that Lea called me this afternoon. It was awful. To think I used to like that woman. Money has a way of changing everything for everyone. It's like people who win the lottery. All of a sudden they have all these new friends who want some of the jackpot. I have to decide what I'm going to do with her estate. Something good has to come out of all of this. I just don't know what it is. Right now, my brain feels freeze-dried.

“I want to pay back the money to the insurance company. That's a given. I'm pretty sure Mr. O'Brien can handle that part of it. Once that's done, I have to deal with the rest of the estate, and the payback is barely going to make a dent as far as the rest of the estate goes. I have a couple of ideas floating around inside my head, but I'm afraid to act on them because there's something I'm missing. When I sign off on this, I want to be satisfied that I've done everything right to the best of my ability. Right now, I am not satisfied.

“By any chance, Jeff, do you see anything I'm not seeing? Do you have any ideas or suggestions?”

Jeff shook his head as he yawned elaborately. “I'm sorry, Olivia, I don't. O'Brien is an excellent attorney. His firm is top-notch. Work with them, and I'm sure everything will be resolved to your satisfaction.”

Olivia shrugged as she set about clearing off the table. When he tried to help she shooed Jeff and the dogs into the great room. “Add some logs to the fire, okay?”

Carrying two glasses of wine, Olivia turned off the kitchen light on her way to the great room. The dogs looked up at her, their tails swishing from side to side, as she took in the situation. Jeff was sound asleep on the couch. She covered him up before she settled herself with the dogs on mounds of pillows by the hearth. So much for romance.

Five days later, Olivia strode down the hall to Prentice O'Brien's office. They made small talk about the abominable weather and canceled appointments in general before they settled down to business.

Olivia tugged at the skirt of her cranberry-colored suit. She opened her purse and withdrew the personal letter Allison Matthews had written to her. She watched the attorney as he read the letter. O'Brien's expression was totally blank when he raised his gaze to meet her own.

“Did you know any of that, Mr. O'Brien?”

“No, Ms. Lowell. I was your mother's attorney, not her confidant. I only met her in person twice. All our business was conducted over the phone or by fax. Now, what is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to find a way to pay back either the bank or the Great Rock Insurance Company of Mississippi without them knowing where the money came from. All of the money is to come from Adrian Ames's estate. I know the case has been closed as well as written off after forty years, but that doesn't change anything. It's the right thing to do, and I want you to do it. You transferred two million dollars into an account. I've withdrawn two hundred and twenty-five thousand. Here's the checkbook,” Olivia said, handing it over. “Do you just want one check or the whole book?”

The attorney steepled his fingers against his nose as he stared at Olivia across his desk. “One check will do it. I can deposit the required amount into one of our escrow accounts. I don't anticipate a problem. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“I'm working on it, Mr. O'Brien. How long will probate take?”

“You have plenty of time to make decisions, Ms. Lowell. Six to ten months, possibly sooner. I might be able to expedite things if you're in a hurry.”

“I want it all to be settled as quickly as possible. I'm…working…What I mean is, I'm toying with several ideas, but nothing is concrete yet. You could start the paperwork on setting up several trusts. One is for Gwen's son, Timothy, and his three children; the other is for Jill's daughter and her children.” Olivia reached into her purse again to withdraw a sheaf of papers. “I think you'll be able to locate both of them with the information I wrote down. I'm sorry it's not more conclusive, but it was the best I could do.”

“I'll take care of it, Ms. Lowell. What about a trust for any children you might bear in the future? I urge you to do this. Children, as they grow up, want to know about their grandparents. I see the doubt on your face, and I understand your feelings, but, as you said a minute ago, it's the right thing to do. You can decide on an amount for the trusts and let me know at your own convenience. Eighteen years from now, college tuition rates will have quadrupled.”

Olivia licked her dry lips. Everything the attorney was saying made sense. She knew Jeff would be agreeable. A trust set up for unborn children didn't mean she herself would be spending the tarnished money. She licked her lips again. “All right. I'll discuss it with my fiancé and get back to you.”

“Have you given any thought to the houses and other properties? What about the boat your mother wanted you to purchase for your father?”

Instead of licking her lips, Olivia nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “Well…I haven't totally ruled that out, but I have to get back to you on that, too. I'm having a real hard time with all of this, Mr. O'Brien. I feel like I'm being torn in all directions. I didn't ask for this.”

Prentice O'Brien leaned back in his chair. “I've been a lawyer for a long time, Ms. Lowell. Some days I think I've seen and heard it all. One day, I think I might write a book. Then I tell myself no one would believe half of it. I say this because I want you to let go of all the hatred you're feeling toward your mother. I know you don't like me to use that word, but Adrian Ames was your mother. It is not written in stone that you have to love your mother. You don't. What you do have to do is let go of the hatred. If you don't, it will ruin your life. You need to think of this as a bump in the road that you have to cross over to reach your destination.

“I see that ring on your finger. It wasn't there when we spoke last. You're starting off on a new road now, so don't put speed bumps in the way. Like I said, I've seen families torn apart, relationships ruined in situations like this. I don't want to see you as a casualty of your own making.

“I was your mother's attorney for almost thirty years, and I didn't come to know her or understand her any better after all that time than I did at our first meeting. I doubt if anyone knew or understood Adrian Ames. Maybe her corporate attorneys understood her, but I don't see why they would. Maybe those two friends from her college days understood her, but I seriously doubt it.”

Olivia clenched and unclenched her fists. Her voice was soft, almost gentle when she said, “She didn't want me. She referred to me as
it.
I think I have a right to feel as I do, Mr. O'Brien.”

“Of course you do, but you have to let it go so you can move on and not be hampered by your mother's baggage. Think about it, Ms. Lowell. What exactly has changed in your life since we first spoke? Nothing, except you are suddenly a very rich woman. Everything you did or didn't do, you did willingly. No one forced you to do anything. You want to do the right thing, the decent thing, and setting up those trust funds proves what I just said. I think you should feel proud of how your father raised you. You're an honorable person, Ms. Lowell. Don't throw all of that away. If you don't take anything else away from this meeting, I want you to take this with you. In the end, your mother wanted to make it right.”

Olivia bristled. “Then why didn't she do it herself? Why have me do it?”

The attorney seemed to be struggling for words. “This is just a guess on my part. I think she wanted you to know what kind of person she was. If she had done it herself, you never would have known. There would have been no point in a confession on her part. Hey, I robbed a bank when I was in college—that kind of thing. No, that wasn't Adrian Ames. You can run with this in a hundred different directions. Don't do it. Move on, and don't look back. That's the best advice I can give you.”

Olivia stood up, her camel-colored coat on her arm. She nodded and held out her hand. The attorney shook it before he walked her to the door. She was startled when he placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “It's all going to work out, Ms. Lowell.”

“I hope so,” Olivia mumbled.

Olivia sat in her car in the parking lot for a long time. She stared into space, going over and over in her mind what the attorney had said to her. When she finally turned the key in the ignition and drove off, she was clear in her mind that everything Prentice O'Brien said to her was sterling.

But knowing that and acting upon O'Brien's sage advice were two different things.

Days and weeks flew by, and before Olivia knew it, spring arrived, dressed in every color of the rainbow against a backdrop of green.

Life was routine, so routine, in fact, that Olivia found herself almost bored. She worked steadily but counted the hours until Jeff would arrive nightly.

She finished up for the day, waved good-bye to a poodle named Tiffany and her owner, whose name was also Tiffany, popped open a bottle of cola, and settled back with feet on an ottoman. Her gaze settled on the calendar across the room. It was hard to believe that in another week she'd be turning the page to May. Then the first weekend of the month it would be the Apple Blossom Festival. She looked forward to taking Jeff to the festival.

Would her father come for the festival? He'd never missed one yet. How sad that she'd only heard from him once since he'd asked her to take out the home equity loan on the house. She hadn't heard another word from Lea, either. The March and April mortgage payments had arrived right on time, however. Maybe Dennis was waiting for her to call him. What good was calling someone who never answered the phone?

Olivia was on her way to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She almost beat the dogs to the door. She laughed, signed her name for the DHL envelope, and carried it with her to the kitchen. The return address said the thick, heavy package was from Prentice O'Brien. She dropped it on the kitchen table, and her heart picked up an extra beat as she moved about the room. With the arrival of the package, everything was suddenly front and center again.