by Lisa Dyson
Jack touched her left arm. She looked in his direction. “What?”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” The invitation came out of nowhere.
“Dinner?” As if the word didn’t make sense to her.
“After Harvey gets picked up.”
Recognition dawned. “I don’t know.”
“I do. You can’t sit home and mope about Harvey. I’ll come by after work. You said he’s getting picked up at six?
She nodded.
“Text me when he’s gone, or I’ll come earlier if you want me to.”
She hesitated and then figured, why not? “Okay.”
He kissed her before she had a chance to react. It took only a few seconds before she slanted her head and participated fully.
He cupped her cheek and deepened the kiss. She wanted to be mad at him, at the Rescue League, at the world. But right now, she didn’t care.
“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” he suggested in between kisses to her neck. He struggled to catch his breath.
She stiffened. She wasn’t mentally ready to let him get any closer.
“Or maybe you should go by yourself?”
Her hand traveled from the side of his head, across his shoulder and down his arm to his hand before entwining her fingers with his.
“I think the second option is best,” she whispered, squeezing his hand for emphasis. “I’m really not up for company tonight.” She paused. “I’ll text you tomorrow about dinner.”
With that, she withdrew from him and was out of his car before he could say another word.
* * *
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, Allie sat on the floor in her living room with her laptop open on her glass coffee table. Harvey was curled up next to her, his head on her lap.
Since she had a mere twenty-four hours left with Harvey, she’d give him as much attention as she could.
She used one hand to stroke his back and the other to do an internet search for the adoption lawyer, Gerard Stone. She didn’t have much luck locating him, although she finally found an obituary for someone by that name, also a lawyer, who’d died almost five years before.
She printed out the obit and added the page to the file her mom had given her, then went back to her computer. Maybe she could find one of the lawyer’s relatives. They would know if this was the right person and, if so, where his files might be.
She first searched for the wife and discovered she’d died late last year. Next, the first daughter listed. Caroline Stone Walden. The only thing Allie found on her without paying for a background check was that she was on Facebook. Allie clicked on the link and sent her a private message.
I’m trying to locate information about Gerard Stone, who was a lawyer in Cranston, Rhode Island. He handled my adoption almost thirty years ago, and I’m very interested in finding any available information about it. If you are the daughter of this Gerard Stone, please contact me as soon as possible.
She added her email address and cell phone number. Without hesitation, she sent the message, hoping for the best.
There was another daughter as well as a son listed in the obituary. Allie repeated the process and found them all on Facebook. She left similar messages for them.
Unable to do much more, she was about to call Charlotte to update her when she called first.
“Jack told me about Harvey,” Charlotte said in greeting. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” She patted the dog’s head and couldn’t help but flash back to Jack’s way of making her feel better. Heat built in her core. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she needed to keep her vow to herself about men. “I’ll survive.” She’d survived a lot worse.
Allie told Charlotte about the file from her parents and how far she’d gotten in locating the lawyer. “The best news is that my parents paid a big chunk of money to the adoption lawyer. Want to take a guess at how much?”
“Thirty thousand?” Charlotte’s excitement came through the phone.
“Yep.”
“That’s wonderful,” Charlotte enthused. “Wouldn’t that mean we were both adopted through the same lawyer?”
“Not necessarily, but I hope that’s the case. Being born in two different states is what’s confusing. Especially since this lawyer was in Rhode Island. Could he have a law license in both Rhode Island and New York, where you were born?”
“You’d have to take the bar in both states. Darn. There must be a logical explanation. At least you got more information than I did.”
“Nothing new?” Allie asked.
“I left a message for my mom’s best friend, Marie, but I haven’t heard back from her yet. I’ve spent most of my time over the weekend working. I could use a little magic to make my artwork create itself.”
Allie understood. She ought to be working, too. “Speaking of work, I didn’t get the animal-food account. Jack got it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Charlotte said. “Will you be okay without it?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ll have to run the numbers and see if I can make rents this month.”
“Rents?”
“My apartment and my office.”
“Could you consolidate? Just have one?”
Allie had already considered that. “I could, but then I wouldn’t have a conference room. Some of my clients have small businesses and nowhere for us to meet at their work spaces.”
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Allie meant it. They hadn’t known each other very long, but it didn’t feel that way. “I guess I should go. I’ll let you know if I hear from anyone related to the lawyer.”
“Sounds good.” Charlotte paused. “Allie?”
“What?”
“I’m worried about you.”
Allie smiled. Even if it turned out they weren’t related by blood, she had a friend for life in Charlotte. “I’ll be fine. In fact, I’ve got some inside information about a new client.”
“A big one?”
“Potentially very big.”
“How’d you hear about it? You were gone all weekend.”
She wasn’t sure confiding in Charlotte was the way to go. Jack wouldn’t like that she’d seen the information on his phone, and she didn’t want to put Charlotte in the middle. “Let’s just say the information practically popped up in front of me.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m happy for you,” Charlotte said. “But you’ll let me know if you need any help?”
“I will,” Allie promised. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, Allie and Harvey arrived at her office early. She’d discovered through a phone call to the strip mall management office that a CPA had taken over the location where the lawyer who’d handled her adoption used to be. She could barely wait to call the CPA’s office to see if they had any information about where the lawyer was now.
Finally, a little after nine o’clock, she was able to get someone on the phone. A woman, who introduced herself as the receptionist, told her the CPA, Felicia Monroe, was with a client and would call Allie back.
Allie had trouble concentrating on anything as she waited for the call.
When her phone finally rang, she nearly jumped out of her chair. “Allie Miller.”
“Hello, Ms. Miller. This is Felicia Monroe. What can I do for you?” The woman sounded at least as old as Allie’s mother, possibly close to retirement age.
“Thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” Allie began. Her nerves were jangling. “I’m trying to find a lawyer who used to be located in the office you now occupy.”
“You’re talking about Gerry Stone?”
“Yes. Can you tell me if there’s a way I can reach him?”
“I’m sorry to say that he passed away, oh—” She paused as if thinking about it. “Probably five years ago. I took over this office almost eight years ago when he retired.”
“Do you by any chance kno
w what might have happened to his files? Did he have a partner or anything?”
“Not that I know of. You might check with his wife to see if she knows where his files are.”
“I did some checking on the internet yesterday, and according to what I found, his wife died last year.” Allie was confident now that the obit she’d read yesterday was the right one for the lawyer.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Felicia said. “What about his kids? I seem to remember he had two or three. I didn’t know him very well. My husband knew him better, since we used to have an accounting firm in another office in the same shopping center. But he’s gone now, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Excuse me?”
“He was a lying, cheating son of a bitch.”
“Oh.” Allie didn’t know what else to say. “Well, thank you for the information.”
“It wasn’t much.”
“Every little bit helps. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”
“It’s none of my business, but may I ask why you’re trying to find Gerry?”
“He’s the lawyer who handled my adoption. I’m trying to locate my biological parents.”
“Well, good luck with that, honey.” Felicia’s words were thick with sarcasm. “His law license was suspended at least twice for his less-than-ethical adoption practices.”
Not a surprise to Allie. “As in, charging a boatload of money on top of legal and medical expenses?”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Before Allie could ask her what she meant, Felicia continued, “I have another call. Good luck to you.” She disconnected.
Allie called Charlotte to fill her in but got her voice mail. “Call me when you get this. I have news.”
Allie set aside her personal matters to focus on work, but it wasn’t easy. She pushed ahead and did extensive research on the beach town of Fairleigh before contacting several people in town who might have the inside scoop on what they were looking to accomplish with a new ad campaign.
What she discovered was that no one knew what she was talking about. She finally worked her way up to the mayor’s office. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was put on hold.
After several minutes, the woman she’d been speaking to came back on the line. “I’m going to transfer you to Charles Wittmer, the deputy mayor.”
“Charles Wittmer,” he greeted Allie a few seconds later.
She introduced herself, but he cut her off before she could state her purpose.
“I understand you’re under the impression that we’re accepting proposals for a new advertising campaign?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m afraid your information is incorrect. May I ask how you heard this?”
What could she say—“I peeked at someone’s text message”? “That’s not important,” she said and forged on quickly. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to launch a campaign to bring back tourists after your town was devastated by Hurricane Lorraine two years ago?”
“Well...”
“I understand a lot of construction work has been completed since then.” She recited what she’d learned online. “A new boardwalk, reopened businesses, a new Ferris wheel. Even a center to showcase the many talented artists in your town and the surrounding area.”
“That’s all true, but we’re not looking for a PR firm or advertising agency, or whatever you claim to be.” He was clearly hesitant about admitting to the promotion.
She pushed on, undaunted. “Even when statistics show that almost forty percent of the rental properties in your town haven’t been rented for more than sixty percent of this summer? Isn’t that a problem for your vacation homeowners?”
“We do still have a lot of construction going on, so that’s part of the problem.”
“But the study I read didn’t include rental properties that were being repaired and unable to be occupied.”
The deputy mayor was silent for a while. Allie almost thought they had been disconnected until he said, “We already know what firm we want.” He was decidedly unhappy about revealing the information. “So I’m afraid all the research you’ve done is for naught.”
She had to think fast before he hung up. “Wouldn’t you like a second opinion? Another option?”
“This isn’t a medical problem where a second opinion is a good idea. We’ve already contacted a competent firm.”
“They might be competent, but do they know as much about your town as I do?” An idea popped into her head. “Are they related to a self-sustaining artist who would have insight into what would bring more artists to your community?”
“Who would this artist be?” His skepticism was building.
“Charlotte Harrington is my...cousin.” She wasn’t sure she was related to Charlotte, but she definitely had access to her and her ideas.
“Charlotte Harrington?” he inquired, a touch of interest in his tone. “The same artist who had shows in New York and Boston over the last year?”
“You know her work?”
If he recognized Charlotte’s name, he was probably the impetus behind the artists’ workhouse in Fairleigh that she’d read about. This was hopeful.
“Oh, yes. She’s very good. Her pastels are extraordinary.” He paused. “I’ll tell you what. If you could bring Ms. Harrington into the campaign, we’d take a look at what you come up with.”
“Absolutely!” Charlotte wouldn’t have a problem with that. It would mean promotion for both the town and Charlotte. How could she not go along with it?
And Allie bet Jack hadn’t even thought about using Charlotte in the campaign.
The deputy mayor gave her more specifics on what they wanted, as well as the fact that they needed the campaign rolled out before the Fourth of July.
“That’s only a couple weeks from now.” She’d expected they’d want a fall or winter campaign.
“Exactly. We know we’re late on this, but we’re hoping to boost not only our summer tourist population but the fall, as well.”
She asked him some questions about what went on in the fall and winter in Fairleigh, getting creative ideas that she needed to start working on right away. They disconnected a few minutes later.
Satisfied with the outcome, she added a few things to the notes she’d taken. She had a fairly good idea of what Jack and his firm could do from seeing his presentation last week. She had stiff competition. Her only advantage was that he didn’t know he had a competitor.
What would he say if he knew what she’d done after seeing the partial text message on his phone? She couldn’t dwell on it. That was the only way to survive in this business—seize every opportunity. Hadn’t she learned talent only went so far? You needed to have an edge because there were always people out there who would go even farther to land accounts. Some even broke the law.
She knew that for a fact. She’d witnessed it not once but several times.
She wished she could be as upstanding as Jack wanted her to be, but she didn’t have a large company to lean on anymore. She had to do whatever it took to survive.
* * *
CHARLOTTE HAD GOTTEN an early start in her art studio Monday morning and was surprised to get a call from Allie so early in the day. “That’s a step forward,” Charlotte said when Allie told her about talking to the CPA who took over the adoption lawyer’s office. “Maybe one of the lawyer’s kids will contact you soon.”
“I hope so.” Allie switched subjects. “Hey, how would you like to go on a road trip with me?”
“I’m pretty busy—”
“This would be work related.”
Charlotte was skeptical. “Really? Explain.”
Allie told her about talking to the deputy mayor of Fairleigh and how impressed he was that Allie knew Charlotte. “I told him we were cousins. I hope you don’t mind.”
Charlotte laughed. “Not at all. Since people think we’re twins, we must be relate
d somehow. I do wish you’d checked with me before you volunteered my services, though. I have a lot going on right now, especially with my art show coming up.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought you might enjoy the town and getting away for a day or two.”
“I’m sure I will. Sounds like fun. I guess I can take some pictures and do some sketching.”
“Perfect! I knew you’d be okay with it.”
Not exactly, but Charlotte was willing to help Allie out, especially since she’d just lost the animal-food account.
“Oh! I almost forgot. The DNA test should arrive today or tomorrow,” Charlotte said. “Maybe we can swab our cheeks and get the test mailed off before heading to Fairleigh.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Allie said. “Let me figure out the best time to go. It should be about two hours from your place. Do you have a preference as to what day?”
“As long as we can take care of the DNA test beforehand, so we can get that out of the way, it doesn’t matter to me.” Then she added, “But I’d like to have enough time there to get a few pictures and do a little sketching. Fairleigh has some great stone structures—hopefully they weren’t all destroyed by the hurricane.”
“Good idea. I can work on the campaign while you do your thing.”
They ended their call. Charlotte had barely set the phone down when it rang again. Thinking Allie had something to add to their conversation, she was surprised to see a number on caller ID she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Is this Charlotte Harrington?” The woman on the other end sounded frail, not like a typical telemarketer.
“Yes, it is.” Maybe it was a charity looking for money?
“This is Marie Hanover. You left me a message to call you?”
“Oh, yes!” Charlotte hadn’t recognized the voice. Marie sounded so fragile since the last time she’d spoken to her mother’s friend. “How are you?”
“Not so good, I’m afraid. I’ve been having dizzy spells. The doctors aren’t sure why.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Charlotte told her.
Charlotte recalled Marie was about ten years older than her mother, which meant Marie must be in her early eighties.