“Ms. Winslow, I’m not in the habit of insulting my clients’ intelligence. But in this case, I’m going to make an exception.” He swallowed. “Are you insane? I understand you think you understand what you’re giving up, but no one can possibly fathom that amount of money until they’ve taken the time to process.”
She held up a hand. “Hold it right there. I am not your client. I am also not an idiot, so save the condescending lawyering for one of your Beacon Hill debutantes. I know exactly what I am doing; I am refusing the money. Now, what do I need to do to make you go away?” She kept her breathing even.
He crossed his arms. “Lovely manners. Where did you attend finishing school?”
She liked his sarcastic response. She raised a shoulder and affected her best New England blue-blood accent. “I do apologize for my brusque manner. I’d say it won’t happen again, but I hate to lie.” She blew out a breath. This was getting them nowhere. “Seriously, I’ve a business to manage, and I didn’t expect your arrival. Perhaps we could both keep the sarcasm at bay and just do what needs to be done to get this over with?” She extended her hand. “Truce?”
When his hand clasped hers, the heat zipped up her arm. The same rise in temperature she experienced on the dock when he had steadied her. Only this time it was mutual, as his intense eyes stared into hers with a mixture of surprise and interest. She pulled back and clasped both of her hands together.
He cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve agreed on a cease-fire, you are, in fact, my client for the duration of the probate. We can schedule an appointment for you to come in and sign the paperwork. You’re obligated to attend the reading of the will.” He grabbed his phone from his suit pocket.
He scrolled through his calendar. “Now that we’ve met, the reading can be scheduled anytime. We should do that in about two weeks. As for your refusal of the inheritance and the subsequent paperwork, we can do that the same day I need witnesses for the reading, and it must take place in my office in Boston or your home in Maine.”
“It’s not my home,” she bit out. “Why do we have to wait so long?”
“I am bound by the dictates of the will. After notification, you are allowed to neither accept nor reject your inheritance until the document has been read. So how does next month work for you? I’m trying to accommodate your desire to get this over with, but there are limits.”
Her stomach dropped. She needed this to go away before then, but there was nothing she could do about it. She hated that. She was trapped—for now. “Send me the date for reading of the will and I’ll see you in two weeks.”
The grin he gave her ranked as one of the sexiest she had ever seen. All rational thought left her head when he took her hand in both of his. “Ms. Winslow, I can honestly say this has been one of the most fascinating business meetings I’ve ever had. I assure you, I’ll be counting the moments until our next.” With a roguish wink, he released her warm hand and left.
She dropped into her chair and lowered her head to her desk. What was she going to do?
****
An hour later, Bev was still in the same position when Joe walked into the office. The bells hooked to the door signaled his arrival, but she didn’t need the notice. He smelled like low tide—fishy and pungent.
“Have you been cutting bait again?”
“Don’t change the subject,” he ordered. He lumbered over to the small fridge and grabbed a beer.
“It’s eleven in the morning, Joe.”
“I’m not quite getting your point.” He sat on the stool, opened the beer and took a long drink. “Eleven in the morning or night makes no difference to me. I drink what tastes good when I want.”
Joe gave her a hard look with gray eyes. His leathered skin, toughened by years at sea, was ruddy from the wind. He took his faded Red Sox cap off and scratched his head, put it back on, took another swig. “Unless you’ve taken to thinking I can’t handle what I swallow…then again, I still don’t see your point. I’m doing the job, ain’t I?”
She sighed. She didn’t need this right now. Men and their egos. Even the old ones didn’t grow out of it. “Nope. No problems with you, Joe.” She tried to rub the headache away from her temples. Decided she wasn’t going to wallow about something she couldn’t change. “I’ll need you to meet with the harbormaster. The inspections are coming up, and I want to make sure everything is smooth there.”
“I told you to stop changing the subject, girl.” Joe pushed himself up, limped as he paced the small space.
“Your hip’s bothering you again.”
“It’s the spring. Wet and windy will bother old bones.” Pure New England stoicism punctuated the words.
“You could always take a break.” Her suggestion was met with a withered look. “All right, I get it; you aren’t weak, and you’re done talking about yourself.” She couldn’t stop the affection she felt for this old man if she wanted to. Joe Stanly was the only father she had ever really known. He loved her right back, although the actual saying of the words came rare.
“I’ll not ask again. What did the lawyer want?”
“You didn’t ask at all. And how did you know he was a lawyer?”
“He had lawyer smell,” Joe said and cackled at his own joke.
“Joe, I can’t explain. It’s too”—she rubbed her forehead again, at a loss for how to describe the enormity of it—“much. It’s too damn much.”
“Tell me, and we’ll figure it out.”
She looked up from her self-pity and smiled at him. “Yeah, I guess there isn’t much else I can do. I’m trying to make the whole thing go away before Ma finds out, but that doesn’t seem likely. Maybe you’ll come up with something.”
Joe shoved his hands in his pockets. “Probably not, sunshine, being as your ma is one woman I won’t cross. Just tell me.”
She couldn’t see any way around it. As at this point telling him seemed the best idea going, she did.
****
“Shit.” Joe took the cap off again and scratched his head. “Well, shit.”
“No truer words have been spoken.”
“I ain’t objecting to the money, sunshine. I don’t believe in such high morality. I been poor, and I also had some scratch in my time. Believe me, having the extra is better. But still, I can grasp the problem. We can’t let your ma get tangled in that web again. She ain’t fit to fight them.”
“Again, true words. Ma would want back in. Not for the money but for the family.” She shuddered. “As if you could call those bastards any sort of family.”
“Calling them names won’t solve nothing. Let’s look at this right.” Joe leaned forward. “What did the lawyer think?”
“He thinks I’m ass-hat crazy to turn down that amount of money. Probably thinks it solves all the world’s problems.”
“I read the Globe. That lawyer comes from money himself, so I betcha he knows what it can and can’t do.” He waved it away. “What I’m wondering is why those media types ain’t pounced on you or your ma about getting any of the money?”
“Finn—he’s the lawyer—said all of this was supposed to be confidential, so I could make up my mind. And the entire world has surely forgotten about a thirty-year-old scandal that caused Reginald to disown Ma in the first place. The Globe is reporting Aunt Serena and her lot will get the money because that was the plan. Now Reginald is changing everything from the grave.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m just glad Serena doesn’t know differently. From Ma’s stories, it won’t be pretty if Serena doesn’t get what she wants.” She stood and crossed the room in two long strides. “I can’t worry about that right now. My decision is made. It’s hell no to the money and anything that has to do with the Winslows. The real problem is keeping it a secret from Ma until it’s over.” She pointed at Joe. “That’s where you come in.”
“Ha. You’re outta your mind if you think I can do anything about your mother and her weird ideas about that family. You’ve seen her since she heard news of her father
’s passing.” He threw out a hand, gestured to the room. “This place hasn’t seen a broom or mop since she found out and forget about the invoicing. That ain’t like your ma. She’s grieving. Hell if I know why she’d grieve for someone who didn’t stand by her when it mattered most.” He shrugged. “I stopped wondering why people did stupid things a long time ago. It’s one of the perks of being almost seventy.”
“So, take her away. She’s always wanted to go to Aruba. She’d do it for you.”
“I haven’t taken a vacation. Ever. You think that fact will slip past your ma? She ain’t stupid.”
She groaned. “Come on, Joe. Neither are you. Please, figure it out,” she begged. “Ma loves you, and if you said you needed to go, she’d go. Tell her the company is paying for it. Which it is. Tell her I’m sending you down there to look at a boat. With a good season, we can add one for lighthouse tours. None of that is a lie.”
The more she talked about it, the better she liked the idea. “Actually, this is perfect. It will solve a lot of my problems. You get Ma out of town; you both get a vacation; and I get an expert opinion on the seaworthiness of a touring vessel.”
“She’ll see right through it.”
“If she does, she’ll see it as a sweet gesture from people worried about her. We want her to get away to grieve properly. People do it all the time. If she gives you a hard time, I’ll add my pennies to the pile. She can’t say no to me.”
“Well that’s true enough.” Joe patted her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be counting on a miracle, sunshine.”
She kissed his weathered cheek. “I’m counting on you, and that beats a miracle any day.”
Chapter Five
“It’s two weeks, Ma, not two months.” Bev hauled out the huge, battered suitcase and threw it on the sunny-yellow quilt on her mother’s bed.
The little white cottage she and her mother shared sat at the end of a maple-lined lane in the historic section of Salem. The pedestrian-only street was narrow, and cobblestones dotted through, though the city had tried to cover them many years ago. She loved the peace the evenings and cold winters brought when the tourists left town. She loved the warm summers when they descended again with music from concerts in the park and the smell of fried fish filling the salty air. She figured that meant she’d found her place. She belonged.
In the end, it hadn’t been as difficult to convince her mother to take the time off as they’d thought. But normal people didn’t just jet off to Aruba. Plans had to be made and shoes needed to be bought. She made all the arrangements from her laptop and praised Jesus for online reservations. Her mother had taken three days to decide what to pack, a fact she found both endearing and irritating.
“I don’t know what kind of weather to expect.” Reggie picked up two different shoes.
“It’s called weather-dot-com. You should try it sometime.”
“I’m about as accurate at predicting weather as those people. Can’t figure out why they call it a science.” Reggie pushed a fall of auburn hair off her forehead. Her coloring was almost exactly like her mother’s. Bev was told she looked like the Winslow side of the family. Lucky her.
“Speaking of science, I finished all the invoices and updated the website,” Reggie said. “I entered the paragraph you wrote on overfishing and also included some pictures of the ten-pound lobster Joe caught.”
“Great idea, Ma.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm. “Atlantic Charters doesn’t believe in over fishing, but we love a good lobster dinner.”
Her mother sniffed. “Keep laughing; if we don’t get rid of some of the surplus lobster population, both the environment and the economy will take a hit. Besides, we donated that lobster to the New England Aquarium, which I also noted on the website.”
“I’m sorry. It just struck me as funny.”
“Guess what isn’t funny, missy?” Her mother folded a blue sundress and placed it in the suitcase. “A person who regularly doesn’t finish and publish her blog posts, that’s what isn’t funny.”
“I’ll do it tonight,” she promised as she fidgeted with the edge of the quilt.
“Since you always keep your promises, you’ll do it.” Her mother rubbed her shoulder. “This has been difficult for you as well, honey.”
“What has?” She was afraid of the answer.
“Reginald was your grandpa, Bevie.” Her mother’s voice thickened. “I like to think the two of you would have gotten along well. God knows he would have been proud of you.” Reggie sat on the bed. “It’s a sad thing to be without family.”
“You aren’t without family, Ma.” She gritted her teeth. “And how you can call a man ‘family’ when he kicked you out of the only home you ever knew is beyond me.” She started folding clothes that didn’t need folding.
“You misunderstand. I feel bad for my father because he died not meeting you, honey. It’s Reginald who missed out on the privilege of watching you grow into the amazing woman you are today. That’s the tragedy to me.”
She had no words for moments like these, when her mother’s pride in her overwhelmed her. She didn’t deserve it, especially when she was keeping something so huge from her.
Reggie stood, faced her. Placing her soft hands on Bev’s cheeks, she said, “You have some things to figure out. I have some things to figure out too, which is why I didn’t balk when you and Joe cooked up this asinine idea about a trip to the Caribbean for two weeks…as if anyone needs to be away that long.” Her mother shook her head. “The whole thing is just plain weird.”
She held her mother’s hands, lowered them. “Ma, I’m not the only one with weird ideas. Both you and Joe deserve a break, even if you think you don’t. And two weeks isn’t nearly long enough. Not only that, you need to grieve.” She gently squeezed her mother’s hand when she saw she was about to protest. “You do. I may not understand or even agree. But he was your dad. So, you need some time.”
“You don’t understand, baby girl. You think it’s strange I should still care about my father in any capacity. I wish I could be more like you. You’ve always had excellent perspective.” Reggie lifted a shoulder. “I’m a work in progress.”
“Ma, what you are is wonderful.” Bev hugged her mother. “You always want to see the good and you forgive easily. I should learn from you…not be so hard on people.”
“You’re just cautious. That isn’t always a bad thing either. I just wish you wouldn’t use my past mistakes as a gauge for all relationships. Not all men are like Chuck Devon. I worry you’ll completely miss out on all the delicious parts of life if you don’t get out there and meet some people.” Reggie nudged her daughter. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I do, Ma. I really do.”
“You could date more than one man at a time…” Reggie said.
“Ma, you got two men, you got two problems.” She wagged her eyebrows, drawing a laugh from her mother. “Maybe it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
“If you say that and mean it, you haven’t had any truly yummy moments with the right man, my baby girl. But you will. I’m sure of it,” Reggie said. “There has to be one man out there who isn’t stupid enough to let you keep him at arm’s length.”
She didn’t like it, but the annoying Finn Callahan jumped into her thoughts at that moment. Nope, she did not like it one bit. He was sexy as hell, but so off-limits.
Reggie placed her hand on Bev’s forehead. “Why are you flushed?”
“I’m good. Worried about you.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“I just need time. I’ll be better when I’m packed and ready to go. Give your old mother a hand picking out a pair of sandals?”
She laughed. “Old? Yeah, right. You give me a run most days. But seriously, why do you insist on making me help you play dress-up?”
“We wear boots and button-downs seven days a week. Deep down we’re still girls and we want to feel pretty.” Her mother lifted a slender shoulder, looked at Bev’s faded jeans, and rolled her e
yes. “Plus, you could use the practice.”
She followed the direction of her mother’s gaze and noted the horribly scuffed leather work boots and her faded flannel shirt. She sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re right.”
****
Bev didn’t think about her lack of fashion sense for too long. She had two good pairs of shoes—flats and heels. She also owned an excellent name brand suit that served her well for the rare business meeting.
She wasn’t dating, so that aspect of her wardrobe didn’t need tweaking either. She was woman enough to admit she wished she had the time or reason to wear something fabulous, but she was also too practical to waste time dwelling.
She waved off Joe and her mother from the front porch of her cottage, and then sat heavily on her porch swing. A little chilly yet to sit out in the evenings, but the midday sun sparkled on the tiny sliver of water she could see down her lane.
Tomorrow she had to go into Boston and meet the people she shared DNA with. Tomorrow she had to put on the pretty suit and pretend to care what that crazy old man had doled out to his grasping heirs. Her stomach had the jangly feeling she got when she drank too much coffee, but it wasn’t caffeine bothering her. She refused to give in to the nerves. Those people wouldn’t intimidate her. She wouldn’t let them.
She rubbed her jeans and generated some warmth. It was getting cooler with a little wind off the water. She hoped Mother Nature stayed kind. The business was finally thriving. She’d made the last payment to the bank and now owned everything free and clear. She’d hated going into so much debt to start out and wouldn’t do it again. Atlantic Charters could actually invest in some much-needed capital expenses, like a laptop for her mom or the boat she’d sent Joe to look at. Determined to put aside the dark thoughts, she rose, almost missing the man walking up her steps.
“Hello, Beverly.”
There was no mistaking the greasy smooth voice. She closed her eyes, then forced herself to meet his. “Chuck. It’s been awhile.”
Spring Tides Page 3