by Sue Pethick
“Do you think he’ll want me back?” she asked.
Marilyn hadn’t hesitated.
“Yeah, I think he will.”
“Then can you give him another message for me?” Emily said. “If he hasn’t bought that tender yet, tell him not to worry about the money, just buy the ship he wants.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Just tell him,” Emily said. “I’ll explain when I get back.”
She slipped on her stockings and buttoned the blouse, grinning. Emily had come up with her plan the night before. Thinking about the money in her trust fund had put her in a serious frame of mind. It wasn’t just a windfall, it was the only material thing she had left of her father: his love and support in the form of cold, hard cash. She’d heard of other people—rock stars, athletes, lottery winners—who’d come into large sums of money and blown it all in a shockingly brief period of time, and Emily had no intention of doing the same. After thinking about it, she’d decided to take some of her inheritance and invest it in a business venture—Sam’s, if he’d let her. He had experience and connections in Ketchikan, and she knew what a hard worker he was; as long as he didn’t mind having her as a partner, she thought it could work out well for both of them.
The suit still fit. Emily brushed off a few stray hairs and slipped her feet into a pair of shoes, then finished the outfit with the string of Mikimoto pearls her mother had given her for her eighteenth birthday. As she glanced at herself in the mirror, she felt terribly grown up.
The front door slammed as Emily was coming down the stairs. She heard her mother yelling at Maria for some unspecified shortcoming—a tirade that ceased abruptly when Emily came into view.
“Hi, Mom. How did it go?”
She smiled at Maria, who took the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen.
Her mother pursed her lips.
“Well, it’s never pleasant having to do something like that, but it’s all taken care of. I gave them your uncle’s information, and they’ll make arrangements with the hospital to retrieve the body. The actual cremation will be sometime in the next few days.”
Emily nodded. She’d been trying not to think too hard about the details concerning how, exactly, her uncle would be transformed into a pile of ash.
“Are there any plans for a funeral?”
“No, no,” her mother said, removing her jacket. “Why bother? He said he didn’t want a big fuss.”
Emily felt a pang. It felt wrong not to have at least some sort of memorial, but she had no say-so in the matter. Besides, her mother was right. For all his bonhomie, her uncle had been an intensely private man with no other family but the two of them. She just wished her mother would at least show a bit more distress over his loss. The man had taken good care of them for many years. Surely, he deserved some sort of send-off.
“What about his ashes?”
Her mother sighed helplessly.
“I don’t know. I suppose they’ll do . . . whatever they do with them.”
“May I have them?”
“What? Why?” She shook her head. “No, no, no. You don’t want them. I’ll have them scattered someplace. It’ll be fine.”
“I can do that,” Emily said. “Really, I’d like to.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She paused and gave her daughter the once-over. Evidently, she’d only just noticed the outfit.
“You’re all dressed up this morning. Are you going somewhere?”
Emily grabbed her purse.
“I have an appointment.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter? It’s just an appointment, Mom.”
Her mother stared, open-mouthed, clearly unnerved by this change in attitude.
“Don’t worry,” Emily said as she opened the door. “We can talk about it when I get back.”
* * *
Emily sat in Frank Alfano’s waiting room, flipping idly through a magazine. The last time she’d been there, she was twelve years old, sitting in numbed disbelief as she learned for the first time about the trust her father had set up for her in his will. At the time, the money had meant nothing to her, an abstract assurance of security that paled next to the tangible loss of her big, strong protector. Now, though, she could appreciate the gift she’d been given. The money would never replace her father’s love and advice, nor the time together they’d been robbed of, but invested well, it might at least give her a few of the luxuries that marrying Carter would have provided.
The door to his private office swung open, and Frank Alfano stepped out.
“Emily, come in, come in.”
She walked over and the two of them exchanged a brief hug. Frank had grown portly over the years and much of his hair was gone, but he was still surprisingly spry.
“I heard about your uncle,” he said, closing the door. “I’m very sorry. He was a good man.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking a seat.
“I was shocked to hear he was gone already. It seemed as if we’d only just heard he was ill.”
“I know. I was lucky to get here when I did. We had a nice conversation the night before he passed, though. It seemed that he was at peace.”
He sat down behind his desk.
“Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”
“No, thanks. Darlene already offered.”
“So,” the lawyer said. “You’ve got an important birthday coming up.”
“Tomorrow, yes.”
“And I hear you’re getting married, too. Your mother was in here just last week, talking to me about paying for the wedding.”
Emily swallowed hard.
“There isn’t going to be a wedding, Mr. Alfano. I’ve called it off.”
“Oh, dear,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Please don’t be. To tell you the truth, I’m relieved.”
She gave him a confident smile, hoping to make it clear to him that she had no regrets. Ending the engagement had been the right thing to do; she didn’t want anyone’s pity.
“Well, good,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I’m relieved myself. I think a woman needs to have a bit of money of her own when she marries.”
Emily chuckled.
“Well, yes, but I’d say a million dollars is somewhat more than ‘a bit.’ ”
The smile on her lawyer’s face stiffened. He frowned uncertainly.
“I’m not sure where you got that figure, but your trust fund isn’t worth a million dollars.”
She nodded, embarrassed.
“Of course, you’re right. I’m sure it’s been reduced somewhat: college tuition, books, lab fees. It all adds up.”
Alfano’s look had changed from surprise to wariness. He glanced at the papers in front of him and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss Prentice, but there’s been a lot more than that taken out over the years.”
Miss Prentice?
“How much more?” Emily said. “I mean, it couldn’t have been a lot, and my uncle was in charge of the investments. The market’s up quite a bit over the last twelve years, too. That has to have made up for some of the loss.”
“Of course. Yes. But—”
“Well, how much is left?”
He ran his index finger down the page in front of him and tapped the figure at the end.
“Just over seventy thousand.”
Emily gripped the arms of her chair, struggling for breath. She felt dizzy and light-headed. What had happened to the money? With a sick feeling of horror, she remembered the scene at her uncle’s bedside as he told her he was sorry. Was it embezzlement, not the death of her father, that he’d been apologizing for? First Carter had betrayed her and now her uncle. It felt as if she’d been standing on a trapdoor that had suddenly dropped out from under her.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Why would Uncle Danny do that to me?”
Alfano shook his head.
“No, no. No one’
s cheated you. Every withdrawal is listed here,” he said, patting an accordion file folder next to him. “It was all perfectly legal.”
He took another sheet of paper out of the file and handed it to her.
“See for yourself.”
Emily’s hands shook as she skimmed the list of withdrawals from her trust account: her private school tuition, school uniforms, the never-ending lessons she’d endured. She looked up, her heart pounding.
“Our swimming pool?”
“Apparently, it was to help you with your swimming lessons.”
She felt her anger build as she continued down the list.
“The trip we took to Europe? That was supposed to be a graduation gift.” Emily gasped. “Oh, my God. The house remodel?”
He nodded, shrugging helplessly.
“Your mother requested every one of them in writing.”
“My mother? But . . . but she has her own money. It was stipulated in my father’s will. He knew what a spendthrift she is. She wasn’t supposed to be able to touch any of mine.”
“I understand, but the fact is, your mother was your legal guardian. As such, she had the right to use whatever money was needed for your benefit and well-being. Lessons, schooling, clothing all fall under that heading.”
“Sure, I get that,” Emily said. “But remodeling the house? A trip to Europe?”
He took a deep breath and gave her a pained look.
“It could be argued that those things were necessary in order to give you a good life, to maintain you in a style that your father would have wanted had he still been alive.”
“But—”
He held up his hands as if warding off a blow.
“I’m not saying that I agree, you understand, only that I doubt you’d have a case against either your mother or your uncle’s estate if you were to try to recover the money.”
The list slipped from Emily’s hand and drifted to the floor. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She’d thought she was rich—she’d spent the entire morning imagining how she would spend her sudden wealth. Instead, she’d be getting less than a tenth of what she expected. Yes, it was a nice nest egg, and far more than most people her age had, but the shock of seeing how much of her money had been frittered away—and why—left her stunned.
“So, when will I be able to take control of what’s left?” she said.
Alfano seemed relieved. Perhaps he’d been expecting her to cry or yell. God knows, Emily thought, this couldn’t have been the first time he’d dealt with an unhappy client.
“Provided there are no more requests,” he told her, “it’ll be yours tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t worry,” Emily said grimly. “There won’t be.”
She stood on shaking legs and snatched the list of expenditures off the floor.
“May I have a copy of this before I go?”
“Of course.”
Emily grabbed her purse. Her throat was tight and her eyes stung with unshed tears. How could they have done this to her? Uncle Danny and her mother in cahoots, stealing her inheritance bit by bit while she went blithely along, never suspecting a thing.
“Can I just say something before you go?” Alfano said.
She nodded, too upset to speak.
“I don’t want to cause a problem between you and your mother,” he said, “but there’s nothing in these records that indicates your uncle encouraged her to raid your trust fund. If anything, it appears that he frequently disallowed the requests your mother made. From what I can tell, if he hadn’t been such a wise investor, you’d have run out of money a long time ago.”
Emily nodded. She wanted more than anything to let her uncle off the hook, but how could she after seeing that list? Uncle Danny knew what her mother was doing and had let her get away with it.
“So, why did he?” she said. “Why did he let her do it?”
Alfano’s look was almost tender.
“If I may hazard a guess, I’d say it was guilt.”
“Guilt?”
“Over your father’s death.”
She shook her head.
“But he didn’t have anything to do with my father’s death. The investigation proved that.”
“I know it did, but I’m not sure either he or your mother ever forgave him.”
Emily bit her lip, feeling the weight of her uncle’s guilt land squarely on her own chest. No wonder her mother had been so cold to him all these years. With a guilt-ridden brother-in-law holding the key to Emily’s trust fund, she could make him give her whatever she wanted. After all, he owed it to her.
How convenient.
“Anyway, that’s my guess, for what it’s worth.” He opened the door for her and handed the list to his assistant. “If you’d just have a seat, Darlene will make that copy for you.”
Emily took the list Darlene had handed her and walked out to her car in a daze. She should look on the bright side, she told herself. She’d had her college degree fully paid for, been given advantages and enjoyed experiences most people could only dream of, and she still had some money to start over with. But it wasn’t just the money, she thought, it was the betrayal that was devastating, knowing that her mother had been living like a queen all these years while stealing from her in secret. The utter selfishness and disregard for her feelings made Emily sick to her stomach.
How could she do that to me?
No wonder her mother had wanted her to marry Carter. She probably thought the trust fund wouldn’t matter to Emily once she had access to the Trescotts’ wealth. Who knows? She might even have thought of it as a way to get her own hands on their money. If so, then they should be grateful to Emily for calling off the engagement.
Then she thought of something else, and her heart sank.
She’d told Sam to buy the ship he wanted, that she’d cover the cost. Now she realized there was no way for her to do that. Her mother’s treachery hadn’t just upended Emily’s life, it might have upended Sam’s, as well.
CHAPTER 28
Sam stumbled from the deck into the galley and collapsed on a bench. He couldn’t remember when he’d been so tired. At twenty-seven, he figured he was at the peak of his physical abilities, but seven days of backbreaking work with little food and less sleep was catching up with him. It wasn’t hard to see why Hollander’s safety record was so bad. Life aboard a seiner was hard and injuries were not uncommon, but working conditions onboard the Skippy Lou made them all but inevitable.
Poor working conditions and lack of sleep weren’t the only problems, either. Hollander’s short temper and aggressive attitude made him a danger to himself and others. More than once, they’d risked a collision while racing another ship to a prime fishing spot. They’d been lucky so far, Sam thought, but it was only a matter of time. When this job was over, he was going to have a nice, long talk with the Coast Guard. There had to be some way to get the guy out of the water before someone else got killed.
At least Logan Marsh hadn’t been a problem. Like every other man onboard, he’d been too busy trying to stay alive to go after Sam. The worst he’d done was to strew the lines in an ankle-grabbing tangle, but that stopped after Ray Hollander took a tumble. Still, Sam remembered the look on Logan’s face that day in town, and it was hard to sleep at night knowing the man was only an arm’s length away. Thank God he and Kallik would be out of there soon.
Buying a ship while he was at sea was inconvenient, but once he and the seller had agreed on the price, things had begun moving forward apace. The tender had already been inspected when he made his offer and the title was clear; once the Coast Guard registered the bill of sale, the funds would transfer and the ship would be his. He could hardly wait to get back. If there was anything the last two years had taught him, it was that he needed to be working for himself.
But securing his own ship wasn’t the only good news. Marilyn had called the day before with a message from Emily: the marriage was off, she was coming home. She was excited about the ship, to
o, encouraging him to pay whatever it took to secure the one he wanted. With the weather worsening, their radio connection had been weak, and there hadn’t been much time for him to reply. He’d had just enough time to ask for a favor.
“See if she can get Bear for me; he’s out at Tiffany’s new place. The key to the Jeep is in my dresser drawer.”
“Anything else?” Marilyn said.
“Yeah. Tell her I love her and I’ll see her tomorrow.”
* * *
Tiffany paced the living room floor as she waited for Seth to return. Her skin crawled and her heart pounded. It felt as if her hair were on fire. If Bear didn’t stop whining and barking, she told herself, she’d go mad.
She stormed into the kitchen and pounded on the garage door.
“Stop it, Bear! I mean it, just shut up!”
She went to the bedroom, where it was quieter, and sat down, hugging herself. She felt cold and hot at the same time. She shouldn’t have yelled at the dog, she thought. It wasn’t his fault he was driving her crazy. If Seth had just gone to the store and bought the dog food like he promised, Bear would be fine. Instead, he’d been running around with his stupid brother.
Tiffany looked at the time and ran a hand through her hair. He should have been back with the stuff by now. She wrapped her arms around her waist as her teeth began to chatter. Where was he, anyway? He’d promised to get it an hour ago.
A bolt of fear shot through her. What if he’d been arrested? Seth always told her he was too smart to get caught, but that was a lie. Anybody could get caught if they were in the business long enough. He said that keeping it in the family made him bulletproof, but anybody could get turned for the right price. She heard Bear scratching at the kitchen door again and clapped her hands over her ears, crying in frustration. Why wouldn’t he shut up? What was she supposed to do?
She felt the room shake as the front door slammed. Tiffany got up and hurried out to the living room. Seth was standing there, breathing hard.
“Can’t you shut that damned dog up? I could hear him from down the road.”