Authors: Mariah Stewart
“You’ll probably have to wait until she asks you.”
“How many guys has she asked out?”
“None that I know of,” Clay told him, “but you could be the first if you play your cards right.”
Clay slapped him on the back and headed for the waiter who appeared with another tray of champagne. He took a glass and raised it in Jesse’s direction.
“A word to the wise,” Clay said before turning back to the toasts that were still being given.
“Thanks,” Jesse muttered, and wondered if he was being played.
He looked around the room at the other guys Clay claimed had never gotten a second date with Brooke. They all looked like nice enough guys to him. He’d met Owen Petrie a couple of times, and thought he seemed like a good guy.
He was going to have to do a little research among some of the guys Clay claimed Brooke had gone out with once and then promptly crossed off the list, Jesse told himself, because he wasn’t about to give up on getting to know her better. Every conversation he had with her seemed to end too soon, and any time he spent with her had never been long enough.
From across the room, Jesse watched Owen, who was hard to miss because he topped six feet by about another six inches and was almost the tallest guy in the room. Maybe he could chat him up a bit, see what he had to say.
Jesse emptied his glass and returned it to a passing tray. If Owen and a few others corroborated Clay’s story, Jesse was just going to have to come up with a plan that no one else had thought of. What that plan might be, he had no idea, but he figured he could learn from their mistakes. He made his way through the crowd to Owen Petrie, who had just been joined by the tall blond fellow Clay had pointed out as a victim of Brooke’s “one-and-done.”
Of course, Jesse was going to have to be subtle—no guy likes to admit he’s been dumped by a girl he likes—but he could do subtle. As a trial lawyer, he’d gotten witnesses to admit to things on the stand that
no one had foreseen—no one on the other side, that is. He knew how to phrase things to get people to open up. He cleared his throat, and smiled as he caught Owen’s eye and raised a hand in greeting.
Let the interrogation of the witnesses begin.
Jesse had always been proud of his analytical skills, so he was pretty pleased with himself as he walked to work the next morning with what he thought sounded like a reasonable plan: if pursuing a relationship with Brooke was destined to result in a door closed in his face, he was just going to have to make
her
want to pursue a relationship with
him
. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure of how best to get from concept to reality, since he’d adopted subtlety as his motto. His plan was admittedly sketchy, a work in progress. Some things were going to have to be played by ear.
He began when he arrived at the office by having Liz call Brooke and ask if she could change her appointment and come into the office at eleven thirty, rather than later in the afternoon, to go over her will. It was quite brilliant, Jesse thought, because they’d be forced to work through the lunch hour, and well, then he’d have to feed her, wouldn’t he? If he arranged to have food delivered at twelve-fifteen, when she’d surely still be there, he could invite her to join him. While they ate, maybe they could put business aside for a few minutes. Almost like a lunch date, he reasoned.
If he’d kept the appointment for four o’clock, however, she’d most likely want to leave to have dinner with her son, and she’d be out of his office by five.
Subtle
. Mentally he patted himself on the back.
At eleven-twenty, he heard the front door open and close. He loosened his tie to achieve that hard-at-work, rumpled look, and spread the contents of a file across his desk as if he’d been working diligently all morning instead of popping up to look out the window every time he heard a car door slam.
“Brooke Bowers is here, Jesse,” Liz buzzed in to tell him.
“Great.” Jesse got up from his desk, tugged his shirtsleeves up just a bit more, and opened his office door. “Brooke.” He greeted her with a friendly smile. “Come on in.”
“Hi, Jesse.” Brooke smiled back as she walked toward him, and he felt his heart flip.
He held the door for her, then after she entered his office, closed it behind her. He moved one of the leather side chairs a little closer to his desk. Would a guy tell a woman
friend
how great she looked in yoga pants and a casual, loose top? Would he say “great”? “Nice”? He wouldn’t say “hot,” though, right? He wasn’t sure, so he let it go.
“Sorry to be a little early, but I dropped off cupcakes at Scoop and at Cuppachino, and thought maybe I’d read if you were busy.” Brooke pulled a paperback out of her bag, held it up, then dropped it back in. “I told Liz I didn’t want to inconvenience you if you weren’t ready to see me …”
Jesse brushed off her concern with a wave of his hand.
“I can get back to this later.” He returned all the papers to the file on his desk and set it aside. “Besides, I can always make time for a friend.”
“Thanks, Jesse.” She sat and opened her bag again, this time removing a fat envelope. “I know I should have done all this sooner, but it’s just been so hard to deal with—”
“No need to explain,” he replied. “I can only imagine how difficult these past few years have been for you.”
“I really appreciate that you’re so understanding.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “I want to make sure that Logan’s interests are protected should anything happen to me. And there’s this matter of the business Eric had started with his brother …”
“We can take care of everything for you,” Jesse assured her. “One thing at a time. Now, did you bring your existing will with you?”
“I have the one Eric and I made after Logan was born, and I have the one he made right before he left the last time.” She opened the folder and sorted through the papers. “You must think I’m an airhead. I apologize for not having these papers in better order.”
“I don’t think anything of the sort. Take your time.” He glanced at the clock. He could easily drag this out until lunch was delivered.
“This is the one Eric and I made together.” She handed him a folded sheaf of papers with her right hand, and with her left, passed him a file. “And this is the one Eric made on his own.”
“Thanks. Give me a minute or two to look these over.”
“Of course.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her looking around his office, and he wished he’d spent a little time adding some personal touches to the decor. He wondered what she thought that portrait of his great-great-grandfather hanging over the corner fireplace said about him.
Then again, since he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying in St. Dennis—his employment being dependent on the whims of his grandfather—he hadn’t spent much time thinking about decorating the office.
“This is all pretty standard.” Jesse held up the joint will. “You leave everything to each other, and in the case that you are both deceased, the estate goes to Logan.”
Brooke nodded.
“I don’t see anything about a business, though.” Jesse frowned and searched for a possible codicil.
“That’s all in Eric’s last will,” Brooke told him. “He and his brother had agreed to go into business when Eric came home before his last deployment. His brother started up the business while he was gone, but Eric provided half the funding. It’s all in there.” She pointed to the file he was opening.
“Let’s see what we have here …” Jesse began to read. When he got to the end, he looked up at Brooke. “So your husband and his brother agreed to go fifty-fifty on this business, with the brother actually running it until Eric left the service.”
“Right.”
“What kind of business are we talking about?”
“Landscaping. His brother has a degree in landscape architecture, and wanted to start his own business. Eric totally supported him in that, and was
going to work with him when he retired from the military.”
“What contact have you had with”—Jesse scannned the will for the name—“Jason Bowers since Eric’s death?”
“Jace was at the funeral, of course,” Brooke replied. “And he always remembers to send Logan presents on his birthday and at Christmas. We talk on the phone once in a while—less and less as time goes on, though.”
“And what does he have to say about this business?”
“Not a whole lot. He says he’s busy and that things are going well.”
“He never asked if you wanted him to buy you out or pay you back for the money Eric invested? Has he ever referred to the financial arrangement he had with his brother?”
“He did broach the subject right after the funeral, but I sort of waved it off. I told him I thought that was all between him and Eric.” She looked a little sheepish. “I probably should have pursued it, shouldn’t I? At the time I just wasn’t up to having that conversation.”
“Obviously, you were distraught back then. We can touch base with him and find out the particulars. You’re certainly entitled to know how the business is doing. If nothing else, you want to know if it’s profitable or if it’s operating at a loss.”
“I don’t really want to be involved with it,” she was quick to add. “I mean, that was his and Eric’s thing, you know? I don’t want him to think I want to be involved or that I’m somehow threatening him.”
Jesse held up a hand to stop her from continuing.
“There’s no need to threaten him or to put him on the defensive in any way. But since your husband put up half the money, and owned half of the business, Jason should be more than willing to let you know how things are going, since Eric’s half is now your half.”
“I don’t want half of the business,” she explained. “But I do want to make sure that whatever Eric invested in that business is secured for my son.”
“Would you feel better contacting him yourself?”
When she hesitated and appeared uncertain, he added, “Or I could write a quick letter letting him know I’m the family attorney and as such, I’m looking into any assets Eric might have had that might go into a trust for Logan.”
“Could you do that?” Her face brightened. “Could you do it in a way that doesn’t make him think I’ve gone all lawyer on him?”
When she realized what she’d said, she laughed self-consciously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with lawyers.”
Jesse smiled. “Yes, I can do it in a way that doesn’t sound like you’re suspicious of him. I’m assuming that’s what you meant?”
Brooke nodded. “That’s exactly what I meant. I’m not even questioning why he hasn’t sent me a status report from time to time. But I would like to know if he’s still in business … well, according to Google, he is. And if anyone’s to blame for failing to follow up, it’s me.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.” Jesse made some notes on a pad of paper. “I’ll take care of it. Now, we
need to work on a new will, and I’m guessing you’re going to want—”
“Jesse, excuse me, but lunch just arrived.” Liz announced over the intercom. “Do you want me to take it into the back?”
Jesse pretended to be surprised, and looked down at his watch as if unable to believe it was already past noon.
“No, I’ll come out for it.”
“I’m heading out for lunch now, unless you need me for something,” Liz told him.
“No, go ahead. Take your time.” Jesse turned to Brooke as he hung up the phone. “Excuse me for a minute.”
“Jesse, we can reschedule to finish this up if this is an inopportune time …” Brooke began.
“Not at all. Sit tight.” Jesse went into the front room, where Liz sat, and picked up the box from the Checkered Cloth, a relatively new take-out place that had quickly established a reputation for fine food. He came back into the office, this time leaving the door open, and placed the box on his desk.
“Don’t you love getting takeout from this place?” Jesse moved things around on his desk to make room. “They make the best stuff.” He looked up at Brooke. “I hope you don’t have plans for lunch. I took the liberty of ordering for both of us since I figured we’d be working straight through an hour or so.”
He removed a few wrapped items and peeled back the foil. “Chicken salad.” He peered into the box. “Tossed salads, éclairs. And two bottles of water.”
Next he unpacked napkins and plastic cutlery. “We
can talk about your new will while we eat. One stone. Two birds.”
“Thank you, Jesse. This is very thoughtful of you. And eating now will save me time. I have a two o’clock class.”
“Perfect. We’ll be done before then and you’ll make it to class without having to talk yourself out of a quick run through the golden arches.” He unpacked the entire box and passed a sandwich, salad, dessert, and water across the desk to Brooke. “One of your cupcakes would make this the perfect lunch.”
“Their éclairs are sinful, though,” Brooke told him as she unwrapped the sandwich. “Clay brought some home a week or so ago. Chloe does a great job on everything.”
“True enough. Without her and a few other establishments in town, I’d starve to death.”
“Not a cook?” she asked.
“Not much of one,” he admitted. “I always say I’m going to get a few good cookbooks and teach myself some basic things, but I haven’t had time.”
“You only need one really good cookbook. Something sort of basic but not idiot-basic. Something that gives you recipes that are easy and fast and good.”
“That’s exactly what I need.”
“I’ll find a good one for you. I have a lot of cookbooks at the farm. Between Clay and me, I’ll bet we have fifty or sixty of them. I’ll see if I can find one that might work for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” He took a bite of his sandwich, but barely tasted it. All he could think was,
Yes!
His subtle plan was working!
Then, to keep the conversation on the personal side, he asked, “Does Clay do a lot of cooking?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s, I don’t know, one of those guys on Food TV. Takes his food very seriously these days. It’s hard to believe, but he’s become a better cook than Mom ever was. He was like you, I guess, after Mom and Dad turned the farm over to him and moved to Myrtle Beach. He knew some basics, but he had a lot to learn if he didn’t want to eat out twice a day. Which he wouldn’t want to do, because he’s so into food—assuming, of course, that it’s organic and locally grown. He’s become almost militant about what he eats, but he’s got quite a repertoire of recipes.”