Authors: Elisabeth Barrett
They ended up in a little sunroom, which Rebecca seemed to have repurposed as an office. Low bookshelves with legal-looking tomes lined a wall, and boxes of files were interspersed between potted plants of all shapes and sizes. Another calico cat was stretched out on a small chair.
“Go, Dante,” Rebecca said, shooing the cat away before taking a seat. Then she gestured to a low sofa. “Please.”
“Thank you,” Carolyn said, sitting down. When she went to put her bag down, she noticed yet another calico cat, hiding under a large palm leaf. “Ah, how long have you been practicing law again?”
“Over a decade,” Bex said with a smile. “Don’t let the lack of a suit fool you.”
“I won’t,” Carolyn said, even though it sort of did.
“Before we start, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Bex whipped out a legal pad and pen. “How can I help you?”
Carolyn spent close to an hour telling Bex everything she knew about the case, and then Bex answered some of her questions. She shouldn’t have worried about the woman’s age. Bex was smart, driven, and experienced. By the time the questions were winding down, Carolyn was convinced Bex would be a good choice to represent her family’s interests. The real question was would Bex want to represent
them
?
“I’ve heard enough,” Carolyn finally said. “I want to hire you, but I need to ask two questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Can I retain you on my dad’s behalf as well as on my own?”
“Do you have power of attorney for him?”
Carolyn blinked. “I—I don’t know what that is.”
“Do you have the power to make legal decisions on his behalf?” Bex patiently explained.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then no, you can’t hire me for your dad. You
can,
however, hire me for yourself.”
What had Yowls said?
You can’t fire me, sweetheart.
At the time, his words had confused her, angered her. Now they made perfect sense. “I didn’t really fire Yowls,” she murmured. “Because he never represented me at all.”
“Excuse me?”
Yowls had been less than clear with her about his representation of her interests, and now she began to wonder what
else
he’d been less than clear about. It was time she started taking care of her own affairs. Carolyn shook her head. “I just realized what a colossal idiot I’ve been. Yes, please, I’d like to hire you.”
“Now we’re talking.” Bex paused for a moment. “I get the feeling you don’t quite know where you stand in all this. I also get the feeling you’re struggling with what questions to ask. For example, did you, personally, have any assets that Worring absconded with when he took your family’s fortune? Did you even see a copy of your mother’s will?”
“As for the answer to the first question, I don’t know. As for the second, I didn’t see a copy of the will, but I know my mom left me the house. The rest went to my dad.”
Bex looked thoughtful. “I see. But you’ve been paying your dad’s bills for most of the last year.”
“His creditors seem to know exactly where to find him, and since he’s technically living at my house, that’s where they call.”
“Do you buy him food, too? What about gas?”
“When he’s at home, yes.”
“I wonder…” Bex said, trailing off. In a moment, she was back. “Okay, interesting information, but not quite on point. From what you’ve told me so far, I don’t believe your interests and your father’s are aligned. If your dad wants a new attorney, I’ll be glad to make a referral, but I think we should focus on what I can do for
you.
I’d like to start by figuring out whether Worring took any of your personal assets, and to do that, I’ll need a full accounting of your family’s assets. Your dad’s help would be very useful. Would he consider speaking with me so I can figure out what he knows and where we should start looking?”
“That will be difficult.” Bex just cocked her head, so Carolyn explained. “He’s not really into the process right now.” Having most of his friends turn on him—the friends who’d felt Worring’s betrayal just as keenly yet blamed Bartholomew Rivington for the referral—had mostly sapped her father’s desire to work on the matter, even as it pertained to himself.
Bex gave her a little frown. “I see. Will he even talk to me?”
“I think so.”
I hope so.
“I’ll ask him when he gets back from his trip.”
“All right. I’ll be able to do some preliminary fact gathering to determine what’s been done so far on your behalf. I assume you’d like me to get your files transferred from your previous attorney.”
“Yes, please.” If Yowls was even her attorney. And if the files even existed.
“And what did you say his name was?”
Carolyn shifted in her seat. “I didn’t, but it’s Yowls. Peter Yowls.”
“Ah, Pete Yowls,” Bex said, sounding wry as she wrote a note in her pad.
“You know him?”
“By reputation only.” Her expression was neutral, but the tone in her voice said something else altogether.
“Then you don’t need me to explain anything.”
“No,” Bex said. “I’ll call him as soon as I get back to my office. You won’t have to deal with him at all.”
“I’m, ah, not sure he ever was my attorney,” Carolyn admitted. “He may have just represented my dad. I think. I don’t know.”
Bex simply shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You’re probably right, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out and we’ll get it sorted. After that, the real work begins.” Bex reached down to stroke the furry head of one of the calicos who’d come to sit by her feet. “I’m going to be honest with you. This is going to be difficult. I’m not sure what Yowls will turn over, but I will definitely start by getting a copy of that will. And I’d like to see the documents from the criminal case, but to even get what I need to kick-start this case will be a slog, especially since Worring has disappeared and the prosecution has pretty much no incentive to cooperate with me. But I’ll do my best. Maybe something’s come up on the civil side that’ll be of use, so I’ll try to get the files from those cases pending against your father, too.”
“Right,” Carolyn said, giving her a weak smile. “Which brings me to my second question. Assuming you want to represent me, how much is this all going to cost? I have a little money set aside for a retainer, but I can’t afford to pay you much.”
Bex waved her hand. “No need. I’m willing to take this case on contingency. If I’m able to successfully recover the lost monies, you pay. If not…” She gave a little shrug.
“Are you serious?” Carolyn said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. How can you earn a living if you do this for your clients?”
“I don’t take every case on contingency. Just a few select ones.”
“So you don’t think this case is a dog?”
Bex laughed. “Who told you that? Yowls?”
Carolyn nodded. “Yes.”
Right before he was about to attack me in a parking lot.
“Look, what I think doesn’t matter right now. What matters is what I can do. And I will do everything I can to figure out what pieces of the puzzle we have and what we’re missing. Right now everything is fuzzy. It’s my job to de-fuzz it. And when a clearer picture emerges, I will figure out whether Worring stole anything from you, and if he did, find him and get him to disgorge any funds or assets. Further, if your dad wants a change, I will personally call the attorney I have in mind to represent your father in the civil suits. He’s a great guy, very competent.”
“I—I thank you.”
“My pleasure. Now,” she said, glancing at her watch, “I expect you have to get to work and so do I. There are a few phone calls I’d like to make for this case right away. It’ll take people forever to return them, so it’s better to start sending out feelers as soon as possible.”
Carolyn took that as her cue to rise. “Thank you again for your time. I feel like I’m in very good hands.”
Bex gave her a warm smile. “I’m glad you think so.” She walked Carolyn to the door alone, the cats having disappeared. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Thank you,” Carolyn said for what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning.
She got into her car and started the drive to Briarwood, trying to process the last hour of her life. She had a new, bright attorney representing her interests and who was content to be paid on contingency—an attorney who actually seemed to care about what happened to her. The back roads of Eastbridge were soaked in green, new growth popping up in the underbrush and painting the trees vermillion.
For the first time since purchasing the car, she flicked on the radio, and the sweet strains of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” played through the worn speakers. Even the universe knew her theme song. Yes, she was crazy all right. Crazy for waiting so long to do something with her life. Crazy for not giving up, despite every setback. And completely crazy for sleeping with Jake when she should have just let it—let him—go.
Of everything she’d done so far, that was the one thing she couldn’t fault herself for—seizing a piece of happiness for herself. At least, it
should
have been happiness, but it had turned out to be so much more complicated than she’d anticipated. And then with some surprise, she realized she was okay with it. Complicated was all right for now.
A flash of yellow by the side of the road caught her eye. A giant patch of daffodils, early bloomers around these parts. Her heart lightened. She was doing something with her life now, and if it wasn’t exactly what she’d planned, well, it was still one heck of a ride. And wasn’t that what life really was, anyway? A crazy, wild ride with ups and downs and sideways and backwards?
She thought about what Grace said about making your own destiny. It rang true. Things would get better from here on out. And if they didn’t, she’d just have to make them get better herself.
Carolyn woke up to dull hammering coming from the beach. At first the noise slipped in and out of her consciousness, but then it wormed its way into her brain and wouldn’t let up.
Ugh, not today
—the first Saturday in a long while she didn’t actually have to work. She buried her head under the covers to drown out the sound.
Nope.
There it was again—
bang, bang, bang
—coming from the side of the house that overlooked the water.
Her
side of the house.
“Mmm,” she said, burying her head deeper in the bed.
The banging continued.
She peeked out from under the covers and glanced at her bedside clock.
Seven thirty? Really?
“Aw, come on,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to sleep the day away, but she’d been hoping for another hour or two before she took her car to the shop. Matt Rhodes at Eastbridge Garage had promised to check out that weird rattle in exchange for her taking his daughter Ella shopping for a prom dress, which seemed like an awesome deal to her. Except that appointment wasn’t until two
P.M.
Well, she was up now. She yawned, stretched, and finally got out of bed. There was the sound of wood hitting wood, then more furious banging. She padded over to the window to see what was going on.
Drawing back the curtains, she took in a beautiful morning. The sky was still a little cloudy, but it looked like it would clear by mid-morning, just like it typically did in late spring. A few sailboats were already out on the water—early students from the nearby Longshore Sailing School. Her gaze slipped lower. No one was on the beach, but there was a man on her dock wielding a hammer.
It took a mere second to process.
A man. On her dock. With a hammer.
She threw on a robe and raced downstairs. Flinging the back door open wide, she scrambled down the lawn and onto the rocky beach.
Ouchouchouch. Damn flimsy flip-flops.
“Hey! This is private property!” she yelled from the beach. The guy was kneeling at the end of the dock, still banging away. She stepped onto the worn wood.
Better not get too close.
“Mister! Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you,” the man said, straightening.
Wait a minute.
That sounded like…
“Jake?” she asked.
He turned, and yes, indeed it was Jake, dressed in a pair of black shorts that went past his knees and a gray hoodie, eyes smoldering under a ripped-up Mets baseball cap.
Suddenly cognizant of exactly how little she was wearing—a silky camisole-and-shorts set, with only a thin silk robe to cover her arms—she self-consciously pulled the front of the robe closed. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to fix this damn dock.”
“B-but why?”
“Because the thing is a fucking safety hazard, that’s why.”
Oh.
“Seriously, Jake, you don’t have to do this.”
“No,” he said, “but I’m doing it anyway.”
Carolyn squinted at the sun still hanging low in the horizon, barely visible behind the mist and fog over the Sound. “Isn’t it a little early to be up?”
“I got back from Miami last night. Too wired to sleep.”
“Surely you have better things to do than this project.”
“None that I need to be doing right now.”
“You don’t think the neighbors will complain?”
“Seeing as how I’m one of those neighbors, I don’t think you have much to worry about.” He adjusted his cap and set his jaw. “Any other objections against me helping you?”
Other than the fact that she couldn’t look at him without remembering what happened the last time they were on this dock? Carolyn shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” He thumped the dock with his foot. “Some of these pieces are rotted through. You’re gonna have a real problem on your hands if you let this sit, and I’m not even getting into the liability issues. So I cut some replacements,” he said, pointing to a pile of new planks on the beach. “I ripped out the old stuff.” He indicated a pile of rotting planks on the other side of the dock. “And I just started to put in the new stuff, but it’ll take awhile because some of the underlying boards are a little warped and I want to make sure everything’s sound.”
“I’m sorry if I jumped down your throat. I just wasn’t expecting this.”
Especially from you.
He grunted a little. “I’ll be here for a couple of hours. And if any neighbors come and bother you about the noise, you send ’em out here, all right?”
She nodded. “All right.”
Carolyn went back into the house and threw on a pair of jeans and a blousy top she’d raided from Blair’s closet. Danielle had taken every last piece of clothing she owned to L.A. with her, as well as a few pieces of Carolyn’s that she actually missed, but not Blair. When Blair left, she left almost everything behind. Good thing, too, because Carolyn had needed those clothes. Her sister wouldn’t mind. She’d probably just shrug and write them off as material objects masquerading as utilitarian. Or something like that. Before she’d left, Blair had become increasingly disillusioned with what she perceived as the Rivington family’s excess.
After she was dressed, she went down to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was bare. Sighing, she went to the almost equally barren cupboard. At least she had coffee. She popped some ground beans in the coffeemaker, poured in some water, and set it to run. While the coffee was brewing, she went to the family room and looked out the big bay window. Jake was still out there, pounding away.
Why was she so reluctant to accept his help? She’d needed this dock repaired for the longest time, yet she’d given him every excuse she could think of to get him to go, short of coming out and saying
I don’t want your help.
But he hadn’t gone, and she knew why. He could see right through her, couldn’t he? Always had. He wouldn’t let her slip back into her own pride, wouldn’t let her wallow. Not Jake.
It was humbling.
Now that he knew her family’s situation, he must be aware that she couldn’t afford to have the dock fixed. Or the house maintained. Or the grounds kept. The lawn was a mess—had been since they’d been forced to fire the gardeners last fall—and now that the snow was gone, it looked even worse. Dead, decaying leaves, dampened from the spring showers, lay in ugly clumps all over what used to be bright green grass. Especially compared to the lawns on either side of her house, both of which were pristine, the Rivington lawn looked abominable.
She knew the neighbors must be furious, but she hadn’t had the time or energy to deal with it until now. Same with the dock. A year ago, she would have been embarrassed. Would have held on to that stubbornness and kept her chin up. Now she was beginning to understand there was no room for pride. She needed to accept help when it was given, even from Jake Gaffney.
The coffee was done brewing, so she poured a generous serving into a travel mug—black, no sweetener—and went to gather some tools. In a few minutes, she found what she was looking for—a rake from the garage and a cardigan from the hall closet. She threw on the cardigan and picked up the mug of coffee before heading back outside.
When she got back to the dock, Jake was still there, except he’d taken off his hoodie, and most of his arm tattoos were on display in a gray T-shirt that looked unbelievably soft to the touch. He was standing on the beach, and when he lifted a fresh board onto the dock, she got a tantalizing glimpse of his abs.
Her mouth went a little dry.
She cleared her throat and walked up. “Here,” she said, handing him the mug. “I brought you some coffee.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, gripping it. He took a sip, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away—at the stubbly underside of his jaw, at the little dimple in the bottom of his chin. “Mmm,” he said, and her gaze met his, clear and blue. He gave her a half-smile, pulled off one of his work gloves, then dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
Even that simple gesture was charged. There was tension between them, so thick she could barely breathe. “So, I’m, ah, going to be dealing with the lawn,” she said.
“Okay,” he said.
She nodded briefly, then went back up the beach, not looking back.
Carolyn started raking her pathetic excuse for a lawn. The expanse of grass was huge, and it should have been dealt with months ago, even before the snow fell. And now, those leaves had just been sitting there for months, choking the tender grass underneath. It was a long, slow slog, and after only ten minutes, her arms hurt.
The sun was higher in the sky now, and some of the fog was starting to burn off. When she looked up from her work, she was treated to the sight of a lone egret flying up and over the water, its long, elegant neck stretched out in front before it swooped and dipped down. She followed it with her gaze until it was just a little white dot in the distance. With renewed energy, she turned back to the task at hand.
It took her another half hour to sweep the leaves into a large pile at the edge of the lawn, and after she was through, she leaned on the handle of the rake to rest her aching arms, pause for breath, and admire her handiwork. Unfortunately, what she could see wasn’t pretty. The lawn was brown and patchy. It would take a couple of months of sunshine and rain for it to look right again.
Jake was still by the dock, loading up the old wood in a wheelbarrow he must have brought from his house. She watched him for a few moments, then decided that was a little too stalker-ish, so she went to the garage for a couple of giant trash bags. While she was there, she spied, high up on one of the bare shelves, an old-fashioned sprinkler—one she guessed they’d used before they installed their sprinkler system. The system had been broken for months, and of course, Carolyn had no funds with which to fix it. Maybe this old one would work. She grabbed the trash bags, tucked the sprinkler under her arm, and went back outside.
In the light, she examined the sprinkler. It looked like it attached onto a hose. There was one around the side of the house, so she walked on the flagstone path and rounded the corner. The hose was there all right, coiled up on a metal hook nailed into the wood, but the elements had not been kind. It was filthy, with dirt and cobwebs covering most of the rubber coils. Also, the end was rusted. Luckily, she’d had a tetanus shot recently.
Tentatively, she grabbed the end of the hose and yanked. Nothing. She yanked harder, the nail popped, and she fell on her ass just as the entire hook came down with a clatter onto a cracked flagstone.
Hose: 1. Carolyn: 0.
Grabbing the business end of the hose in one hand and the sprinkler in the other, she twisted and turned until the hose seemed attached and didn’t come off when she tugged. Now for the moment of truth. She grasped the water valve and turned. There was a hitch, then a gurgle.
And a split second later, the sprinkler in her arms went on, drenching her with ice-cold water.
“Crap!” she screamed. She threw the sprinkler to the ground, trying desperately to turn the water valve off, which was pretty much impossible to do with water spraying directly into her eyes.
She finally got the bright idea to turn away from the spray. But then, a few moments later, the water stopped.
“Wha—where?” she sputtered, still wiping water from her eyes. “Ohmygod,” she said, as a breeze blew directly on her, turning her drenched shirt into a chilly, damp sheet. She whirled around to see Jake, leaning against the side of the house, the corners of his lips curled up.
“You know,” Jake said, deliberately drawing out his words, “you should really have set it up on the lawn
before
you turned on the water.”
“I—” Cold water dripped slowly down the inside of her clothes, collecting in a puddle under her damp sneakers. She held out her arms. “Seriously, just look at me!”
“I’m looking,” he said, eyeing her with intent. “Believe me.”
She followed his gaze. Her jeans hugged her like a wet second skin, and her shirt—
oh, God,
it was sheer, and Jake could see everything, from her lacy bra to her pebbled nipples. She gasped and crossed her arms over her breasts.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You, uh, might want to get out of those wet things.”
“You think?” Now that the shock of getting drenched had worn off, she’d moved on to sarcasm, something else she’d picked up, tried on, and decided fit over the past year. This wasn’t the low point of her life—far from it—but the fact that this one stupid, ancient sprinkler had brought her down seemed to epitomize every little indignity she’d recently suffered. Jake was still watching her, waiting for her next move. There really was only one thing to do in a situation like this.
She started to laugh.
She laughed until she couldn’t breathe, and then she laughed some more. Jake was going to think she was crazy, but honestly, she didn’t care. This whole situation was insane.
“I had n-no idea how to t-turn it off without getting sprayed,” Carolyn said, gasping for breath. The breeze picked up, turning her wet hair and clothes from chilly to icy. She shuddered. “And n-now I’m f-freezing! Wh-what?” she demanded of him. “No other c-comments about my ineptitude?”
Jake stared at her for a split second, and then he started to laugh, too, a deep, rich sound that curled up inside her stomach. She’d never heard it before, not like this—a masculine rumble that changed his entire demeanor, brightened his eyes, and set off a sweet dimple in his cheek she didn’t even know existed.
Jesus.
When he stopped laughing and started staring again, Carolyn realized her mouth was open. She closed it.
“Go get changed,” Jake finally said. “I’ll clean up.”
“Okay.” Arms still over her chest, she ran inside. She was so wet, there was nothing to do but to strip in the bathroom from her shirt to her underwear. Completely naked, she went back to Blair’s closet.
A fresh pair of undies, a new bra, another pair of jeans, and a different top made her feel like a new woman. After she gave her hair a quick once-over with the blow dryer, she went back outside.
Jake had the sprinkler set up as far as the hose would take it—about a third of the way onto the lawn—and had started bagging up the leaves on the far end. Skirting the path of the sprinkler, she went to join him.