Spring Tides

by Jill Allyson Keene

  The will reading had been horrendous. She’d worn what the two friends long ago nicknamed The Suit, had convinced herself she could get through it. She hadn’t been prepared for what her grandfather had done. The bastard. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the enormity of what her grandfather had hoped to accomplish. His sheer disregard for decency astounded her. Megan interrupted her black thoughts.

  “All of it?” she asked. “There is no way you can make this go away?”

  “He thought of everything.” She didn’t try to keep the bitterness out. “If I don’t take the money and the house and the cars and the fucking horses, for Christ’s sake, then it all goes to my mother.” She waved to the other bartender. “Can I get a Diet Coke, Jackie?”

  Suddenly she didn’t feel like getting drunk. She whispered to Megan, “You know my ma, Meg. If she inherits, she’ll see it as some sign he loved her. She’s just now come to the realization she didn’t do anything wrong. Reginald twisted her up, and that pack of leeches I laughingly call my relatives will continue until my mother is nothing again. It was too hard putting her back together the first time. I can’t do it again.”

  “You were too young to do everything you did. It’s over, but I was there. No thirteen-year-old should need to parent her mother. If it weren’t for Joe, you wouldn’t have had any kind of normal childhood.”

  “Ma needed to work on herself.” She gripped her glass. “My mother’s sister, Serena, is living the life Ma was supposed to live, and that life is splashed in the society columns daily. It was hard to get her to let go of all that. It wasn’t the money my mother needed; it was the sense of belonging. She needed professional help.”

  “And you saw she got it.”

  She knew Meg didn’t agree with how her mother had let her own problems overtake Bev’s childhood but also knew Meg wouldn’t beat it to death. Her friend switched the topic.

  “Tell me about the rest of the family.”

  She snorted. “Let me see if I can condense it.” She rubbed the ache over her left eye before continuing. “Chanel, Louboutin, and Dior walk into a bar—”

  “Ha, ha. Seriously.”

  “Seriously. When Serena found out what Reginald had done, she went on the attack, yet she barely even raised her voice.” She shook her head. “I almost felt bad for the lawyer, but he held his own.” She thought him quite admirable, really, given the circumstances. “I could scarcely stop myself from popping her one.”

  “That would have been nice to watch. But I don’t get why Serena was disinherited. What about her kids?”

  “Disinherited is not fully accurate. Reginald gave her twenty million dollars. Her kids get ten mil apiece when they reach the age of twenty-five and graduate from college. I don’t think Serena’s appreciative. Something tells me twenty million won’t be enough.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but you still haven’t answered why Reginald did it.”

  “Sorry. I’m not completely steady. And to be honest, I wasn’t steady at all in that lawyer’s office. Once I heard the terms of the will, my ears started ringing, and all I could hear was my heartbeat. What I did latch on to was something to the effect of Serena reaping what she had sown. This was a consequence for her actions. ”

  “It’s like the script for some bad play.” Meg slammed down her drink. “Reginald weaving a web, his one final attempt to control everything he believed he built. He was one creepy bastard.”

  She laughed until her sides hurt. She’d been right to come see Meg. “Jesus, you couldn’t say it any better. He was a creepy bastard. And I think Serena is just like him. She was perfect, though, so worried about the Winslow name. Her handbag matched her shoes. I didn’t realize people did that anymore.”

  “What about the rest of the will?” Meg asked. “What did the lawyer say are the requirements?”

  She didn’t meet Megan’s eyes. “I sort of didn’t stick around for the end of the will reading.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Meg shouted. Several of the bar patrons swiveled in their seats to stare. “Sorry.” She lowered her voice. “Where the hell is your head at?”

  “I wasn’t using it at the time. Once I heard if I didn’t take the money, then Mom was getting it, I panicked. I thought of Chuck and Serena and all the long-lost relatives that come out of the woodwork after a lottery win, and I bolted. I told the lawyer I needed some time and left.” She winced.

  “It was stupid, but can you imagine what Chuck Devon would do to my mom if he thought he had a shot of getting some cash? Knowing my mother, she’d split it with him. I can’t get behind the idea of Chuck or Serena or anyone like them getting a dime of this money. I’d rather give it to charity. I can’t do that either. If I give it away, it goes to Ma. She won’t give it away because she’ll consider it her duty to take care of the Winslow family. So, with all that swirling around in my head, I couldn’t sit around and listen anymore. I needed to think.”

  “That part I understand.” Meg squeezed her hand. “But hiding from this doesn’t make it go away. Deal with the past so you can move on.”

  She groaned. “Please don’t analyze me right now. I don’t care about those people. If they’d left my mother alone, I wouldn’t give them a thought again.”

  Her friend snorted. “Please. You’re not free from abandonment issues either. They’re just not on the grand scale like your mother’s.”

  “I can’t do this with you right now. After this is sorted, I’ll let you figure me out all you want. Right now, I need a plan.”

  She didn’t answer. Her friend, who faced the door, went slack-jawed. Someone worth a look walked in—could be anything from a hot guy to a hideous dress.

  She kept her eyes trained ahead. “Tell me when they are about to pass. Hot or not?”

  Meg shook her head as if to clear it. “Definitely hot. He’s in a suit, but I imagine he’d look good in just about anything—including in my apartment.” Her eyes glazed over again.

  Finn Callahan tossed his briefcase onto the bar stool next to Megan, whose eyes went wide in response. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and pasted on a fake smile.

  “Megan Murphy, meet the lawyer.”

  Chapter Eight

  The pounding inside his skull just wasn't letting up. Normally he was even-tempered, but it had taken hours to track her down. Now he finds her holed up in some bar, celebrating with a girlfriend.

  “Who the hell leaves a will reading before it’s over and then ignores her lawyer’s phone calls and texts? I actually believed you were smart when we first met. I’m definitely rethinking that opinion.” He noticed the empty shot glasses, lime, and salt. Christ, he could use a drink. He signaled to the older gentleman behind the bar. “Another round of what they’re having.”

  The bartender grunted. “You driving?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll take a beer.”

  He didn’t bother to argue. Besides, a beer might be the smarter option. If he drank a shot, he might lose his cool and actually try to strangle his client.

  “I’m not certain how this place stays in business, but sure, a beer sounds amazing.” He grinned at the woman with his client.“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Murphy.” He shook Megan’s hand .

  “The pleasure’s mine,” she answered.

  He loosened his tie and then, shrugging out of his jacket, dropped onto the bar stool next to his client. He glanced around. The better part of his temper was cooling, and he took the time to notice the place. Not touristy, but not a hole in the wall either. Looked like the traditional Irish pub, complete with wooden snugs surrounding the perimeter of the room and a lively band in the corner of the bar just getting warmed up.

  Since his client didn’t seem inclined to speak at all, he decided to jump right in. “I thought we’d called a truce?” The bartender brought him a beer, and he took a drink from the bottle, then set it down and asked again. “You don’t run out on someone after you call a truce. It’s considered bad form.”


  Megan snickered, but still nothing from his client except her profile. She faced the bar and didn’t say a word. What was wrong with this woman? She was stunning, no doubt, and he couldn’t help the physical attraction to her, but still…What the hell was wrong with her?

  He decided to ask her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Finally she turned and faced him. His stomach dropped at the sight of her teary eyes. “Oh Jesus, please don’t do this. I can handle rude, but please don’t cry,” he pleaded, seconds from getting on his knees.

  “I’m not crying.” She wiped her eyes. “It’s spring allergies.”

  He ignored the obvious lie. “Listen, I get you’ve had a shock, but we really do need to talk. Megan, I apologize for being rude, but it needs to be a private conversation.”

  Megan nodded and began to move off her stool. Bev grabbed her arm. “I want her here.”

  “No, sweetie. You need to hear what he has to say so you can make a decision. Besides, I should check and see if Mary is scaring the wait staff.” Megan squeezed her shoulder and whispered, “You’ll figure it out,” then walked away.

  He stopped with his bottle in midair. “What did she mean ‘make a decision’? You aren’t seriously considering giving up your inheritance now? Unless you are trying to spare your mother’s feelings or something? I can tell you your mother will need to be present for a second will reading if you decline, so she’ll find out you were Reginald’s first choice anyway. I’m not sure why, but I get the sense having your mother involved is not an option for you?”

  “Very perceptive. My mother is…” He drank as she seemed to struggle for a word. Finally she said, “Fragile.” She reached for her drink, took a sip. “My mother is fragile.” She looked up from the bar. “I’m afraid of the answer to this, but I’m asking anyway. What if I decided to take the inheritance and then give it all away to the Plum Island bird sanctuary or something?”

  He nudged her. “Reginald anticipated you on that one, too. You must maintain control of the funds and properties for one calendar year. If that provision is not met, your mother would still become the beneficiary. You could do it after the year was up, though.”

  “Bastard.”

  “I’m inclined to agree—no offense.”

  “I’m not offended. He wasn’t anything to me. I’m just trying to figure out a way for this not to touch my mother.”

  “Ms. Winslow, I’m your attorney now, and I would like to help. If you can trust me, I’ll do my best to walk you through this situation. It shouldn’t be scary. Most people would be thrilled to find out they inherited almost four hundred million dollars.” He grinned down at her and caught himself staring. Thank God she interrupted his wayward thoughts.

  “I’m not like most people,” she said.

  “You don’t need to tell me that.” His dry response coaxed a laugh from her. “Ms. Winslow, there are things you need to know, and I’d like to get to the bottom of your story too. I didn’t mean to offend you when I said you weren’t like most people. I meant it as a compliment.”

  “I told you to call me Bev, and I’m not offended. Do you worry about offending all your clients? I’d think they'd be thrilled with your bottom-line style.”

  He scratched his head. “Tell you the truth, I don’t worry about offending anyone usually. You must just bring out my softer side.”

  “Sure I do. Fifteen minutes ago, you were ready to murder me.”

  He studied her. He was tempted to brush a stray lock of auburn hair from her temple but refrained. Jesus, he was her attorney. He had to get back on track. “Is there somewhere private where we can speak?”

  She gestured to one of the snugs. “That private enough? I need a burger and a really big glass of wine.”

  He stood. “Will they let you drink here?”

  She grabbed her soda. “They’ll give me whatever I want—as long as Murph and Megan agree I should have it anyway.”

  “Protective friends.” He guided her across the pub and scooted into the wooden snug. The booth’s high-paneled sides dropped the noise level quite a bit. He waited while she folded her considerable height into the pew-like bench on one side of the table. He threw his stuff onto the other bench and settled. Another bartender, who introduced herself as Jackie, brought over water and smiled. “Chardonnay, Bev?”

  “That sounds terrific. Thanks, Jackie.” She looked at him. “What are you having, Counselor?”

  “Same for me.”

  When Jackie left to get their drinks, she leaned back against the bench. “So why don’t you tell me all the things in the will I can’t change? Then I can start not dwelling on it.”

  “You can’t change anything. I wrote it for your grandfather. There won’t be changes.”

  “You’re that good, huh? That’s a pretty bold and arrogant statement.”

  “I disagree. If it’s true, it isn’t arrogant.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “What is it you came here to tell me?”

  Jackie returned with the wine. He drank, appreciated. “This is good.”

  “You sound surprised. You were expecting bad house wine, weren’t you?”

  “Something like that. I was wrong to make assumptions.”

  “Eh, that probably comes in handy for your job, but still kind of snobby.”

  “You’re right. To further apologize for my snobbery, I won’t look at the menu. What do you recommend?”

  She winked at Jackie. “Give him the special, and I’ll have the pub burger. Extra chips.”

  As Jackie left, his eyebrow winged up. “Should I be afraid?”

  “Relax. It’s just fish and chips. I didn’t steer you wrong.” She took a sip from her own glass. “So, what did you need to see me about?”

  “Right. Sorry. I was caught up for a minute.” He had been staring again, his eyes taking in her lips as she drank. He needed to get a grip. He took a swallow of wine. “We need to proceed. You didn’t stay long enough for me to warn you about your aunt. I’m concerned Serena will make good on her promise to contest if you don’t move quickly.”

  “Yikes. That bad, huh?”

  “She can be difficult. I warned her she won’t win if she contests. Her husband John seems reasonable and most likely will talk her out of it.”

  “Then you didn’t come to warn me my inheritance might be in danger?”

  “No. It isn’t in danger. And I’ve caught on to the fact you don’t want it. But that doesn’t change what is.” He leaned closer to her. “Look, Serena can’t touch the money; Reginald made sure of that. But whether she can get her hands on the cash or not, Serena will make things difficult for you. I needed to warn you.”

  “I’m warned. What do you need from me?”

  “I need to go over those pesky details you missed when you skipped out on the reading. There are some things that won’t make you happy.”

  She unfurled the napkin by her plate, spread it on her lap. “I’m not exactly dancing a jig at this point, Counselor. And I’m not sure I can take any more information tonight. So just tell me this, do any of these details change the fact if I don’t take the money, my mother gets it?”

  “No. Nothing changes that.”

  “Then I’ll wait to hear anything else for now.”

  “I still need something,”

  “What else do you need?” she asked.

  “The truth would be nice,” he tried. She said nothing. “Well, if I can’t get your story, I’m going to need a decision.”

  Her head fell to the table. She groaned.

  He patted her hand. “Are you all right? Just tell me what the problem is, and we can figure it out.” He wished there were other options for her. But he had to get moving on the paperwork to protect her.

  “I can’t let Serena get close to my mother. She isn’t equipped for this. How could I know if John Hamilton would be a good CEO? These people are strangers.” She rambled on, her head never leaving the table. If he didn’t feel so bad for her, it
was almost funny.

  Finally, she raised her head. “There seems to be no other way.” Her voice sounded strained.

  “Meaning?”

  “I guess I’m taking the damn money.”

  Chapter Nine

  On the walk to her house, he tried for casual. He’d driven her to the public parking lot on the waterfront down from her street, and she had explained the street was pedestrian only. He was glad for the opportunity to work off dinner and the excess energy he seemed to gain whenever he was around her. He itched to touch her—a need he had not felt with a client before.

  Even worse, he couldn’t seem to shake her out of her silence, and she had gone pale after she’d told him of her acceptance.

  “You know, after I weigh the pros and cons and make a huge decision, I usually feel better.”

  “It’s complicated,” she said.

  “I got that part.” They reached the steps to her porch. He ignored the temptation to pull her closer. She didn’t need that right now.

  “What I don’t get is why you won’t explain what the complications are. My mother always says it’s better to put the problem out into the world than let it eat at your insides. And I’m your attorney. Tell me, and we can come up with a plan. You’ve got to trust me.”

  “Strangely, I do,” she said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound insulting. I’m not used to things like…this.”

  “To what? Millions of dollars, needing a lawyer, crazy family members, or trusting people?”

  She shook with her laughter. “All of the above, actually. Truth is, I’m a go-it-alone kinda girl. This trust thing is really weird. Give me time to get used to it.”

  “I wish I could. Unfortunately, since you’re taking the inheritance, we need to move quickly. There are stockholders, employees, and a board of executives all sweating, waiting to see who inherits. To keep things calm, the sooner we announce, the better for all parties.”

  “I don’t like the idea of people worrying about their jobs.”

  He said nothing for a minute, trying to find a word to describe how unique she was.