Always My Own (Always Love Trilogy #2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  And Elizabeth could start over. She could stay here in Burton, where I had no doubt she’d be welcomed by the town, since they loved a good success story. She’d meet a man who was worthy of her, and they’d live here, raise a family and make the home I knew she’d always wanted. Even though I’d never see her again, I’d have the satisfaction of knowing I had played some small part in giving her that home, since I was the one who’d brought her to Burton. That would have to be enough. I’d never love anyone the way I loved Elizabeth. That I knew for sure. I loved her enough to put her needs above my own, and that was something I’d never done before.

  And it was with this depressing thought that I finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  THE LAW OFFICE OF CLARK Morgan was located three blocks off the main street of Burton, in an old house tucked beneath a canopy of huge trees. It rose out of the ground as though it had been born there, not constructed. A sign post by the front walk informed passers-by in the most discreet and genteel way that this building housed not only the law office, but also the Downy Firm of Accountants and the Burton Gazette and Printing Company.

  I sat in the front seat of my car, staring up at the front door, wondering what the hell I was doing here. Law had never been my passion. It was what I’d studied so that I could justify staying in college three more years, since I didn’t know what else I wanted to do. True, I’d been excited about starting my own office with Darcy after graduation, but that enthusiasm had dimmed once she’d fallen in love and left me on my own in the Cove. The fact that I’d also had to buy out her half of the partnership, thus crippling my business from the get-go and requiring that I stayed in Crystal Cove until I’d paid off my debt, hadn’t helped at all.

  Making the offer on Clark Morgan’s practice hadn’t been something I’d thought about too deeply. Trent had been waxing nostalgic about Burton at dinner one night, talking about growing up in a small town where everyone knew him.

  “You’re so lucky.” I’d picked up my wine glass and tipped it back, drinking the last drops. “No one ever knew me. Just when I’d get around to making friends, it would be time to leave again. I want a hometown, too.”

  “You can share mine.” Trent had leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on my lips, his tongue darting out to catch a taste of wine. “I’ll take you back and we’ll . . . hmmm . . . we’ll buy a farm. Live outside of town. I’ll build you a house.”

  I slid out of my own chair and onto my husband’s lap. “You will? Where will we live while you’re building it?”

  “Well, we’ll have to rent something in town until I have our house done. You can get a job at one of the law firms, and I’ll work at the hardware store until we’ve saved up enough.”

  “Mmmmmmmm.” I’d nuzzled his warm neck. “I like that idea.”

  Trent had chuckled, and his arms tightened around me. “I have a lot of ideas you might like . . .” His hands crept around to cup my breast, and I’d been lost . . .

  Our discussion that night had ended in bed, which was where I’d decided all good talks should wrap up. But the idea of Burton had lingered in the back of my mind, and it was with that thought that I’d opened up the alumni page of my law school’s website, where I’d seen Clark Morgan’s classified ad.

  It had seemed perfect, the first step in that dream Trent had woven for the two of us. At least it had felt that way until I’d filled him in on what I’d done, and he’d flipped the hell out.

  And now here I sat, about to go in and officially take over my new practice. I was about as excited as if I were going to the dentist for a root canal. I dreaded the prospect of getting back into the groove in a new town, learning the quirks of the local judicial system—which judges were hard-asses, which ones were more easy going—and winning the trust of Clark Morgan’s clients so they didn’t take their business elsewhere. All I wanted to do was curl up in the backseat of my BMW and take a nap.

  But that wasn’t the Hudson way. I could almost hear my father’s voice, informing me that he expected more of his daughter. So with a deep and heavy sigh, I opened the car door and climbed out. Hoisting my fancy leather briefcase over my arm, I squared my shoulders and climbed the steps to the front porch.

  It swung open silently, and I stepped into a bright and welcoming foyer. The hardwood floor, buffed to perfection, gleamed in the sunlight that streamed in through large windows. A staircase curved up to the second floor, its polished banister ending in an ornate newel post. I stood for a minute, breathing in the welcome and familiar scent of lemon polish and aged wood.

  “Miss Hudson?” A deep voice interrupted my reverie. “That you?”

  I put on a wide and professional smile. “Yes, I’m Elizabeth Hudson. You must be Mr. Morgan.” I lifted my hand, and the older gentleman took it in both of his.

  “Welcome to Burton, Miss Hudson. We’re glad to have you here.” After giving my hand a thorough if refined shake, he released it and gently guided me toward the back of the hallway.

  “Happy to be here. Are you excited about your move?” Clark Morgan had confided in me that his wife was anxious to move to New Mexico, where their daughter lived with her family. While he pretended to be reluctant to leave Georgia, I’d heard the hint of anticipation in his voice, even over the telephone.

  “Well, you know, my wife’s got us all packed up already. Turning everything over to you is the last thing on our list. I feel a little funny, leaving you so soon, but you’ll have my number if you have any questions. And Gladys probably knows more than me about anything that goes on in this office.”

  Mr. Morgan reached around me and turned the brass doorknob, stepping back to let me enter. I was immediately taken by the floral print on the pretty love seat and coordinating solid rose on the overstuffed chair in the small anteroom. An antique pine coffee table held a few magazines and a newspaper. The whole effect was charming and warm, nothing like a typical law office waiting room.

  In the alcove adjoining that space, a woman sat at a large desk. She was older, though I couldn’t figure out exactly how old she might be. Her blonde hair was clearly from a bottle, since its color was at odds with the lines on her face. Eyebrows were drawn on over icy blue eyes that examined me critically.

  “Gladys, lookit here. This is Miss Elizabeth Hudson, your new boss.”

  I cringed on the inside. I was easily thirty years younger than this lady, possibly more. The last thing she would want to be reminded of was my position at the head of the office. I amped up my smile and extended my hand again. “So pleased to meet you, Miss . . .” I sensed we weren’t quite on a first-name basis yet, so I let the question of her name linger.

  “Gladys West. Mrs. West.” She stood, and I noticed that her posture was impeccable. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Hudson.” Mrs. West crossed her arms over her chest, as my hand hung between us, awkward and forlorn.

  “Now, Gladys, you be nice. Miss Elizabeth is our lifesaver, you know. If it weren’t for her, I’d have just closed up this office and you’d be out of a job. As it is, you have the responsibility of training a new lawyer. Again.”

  Gladys had stared down Mr. Morgan as he spoke, and when he finished, she addressed me. “Do you plan to come in this late every day? Because that’s not how to practice law in this town and certainly not in this office.”

  My hackles rose, and I opened my mouth to make a stinging retort. I’d been raised with the importance of bowing to authority, wherever that might be and whatever it told you to do. But this woman wasn’t my boss. She continued to hold her job at my favor; it had been part of our contract that I would keep Gladys at the office for at least another year. I was really regretting that I’d agreed to that caveat so easily.

  But just as I’d heard my dad’s voice earlier, I knew what my mother would tell me in this situation. “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all. Just remember, if they’re unpleasant, likely they had a bad day or even a bad life. Give everyone the benefit of the do
ubt.”

  I nodded my head and answered the secretary. “Today is not a typical day, of course. I’ll be coming in to the office by nine on most days, I’d think.”

  “Nine?” One sketched eyebrow raised. “Mr. Morgan is in the office by seven every single day of the week.”

  Before I could answer her—and I didn’t think what I said was going to be very pleasant this time—Mr. Morgan interceded. “I seem to recall that Cornelius never strolled through those doors before eleven AM. And when I was the new attorney, you gave me a hard time for being here so early.”

  A faint pink flushed the secretary’s cheeks. “Better to start out on the right foot and be here all the earlier, I’d say. Now that you’ve trained the clients to expect appointments and meetings first thing in the day, they’ll be unhappy if they can’t meet until later.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced at Clark, and he seemed to sense that it was time to move on. Wise man.

  “I’m taking Miss Elizabeth into my office—well, her office now—to sign some papers and go over some of the details. I doubt anyone’s going to need us, but I’d prefer we not be disturbed, Gladys. I need to get home and finish up packing, and Miss Elizabeth will want to bring in her things and get settled, I’m sure.”

  He opened an oak door to the left of the reception desk and ushered me down the hallway to another large room. It was dominated by a huge desk made of shiny cherry wood, flanked by two tall matching filing cabinets. An ancient desktop computer sat on one sideboard, and a black leather office chair was tucked under the desk.

  “I’m leaving all this here, as part of the office package.” Clark motioned me to a chair in front of the desk as he sank into the black leather rolling seat. “I don’t have any use for it where I’m going, and my wife would kill me if I tried to bring it. Besides, Cornelius left the desk here for me, so it seems only right for me to pass it on to you.”

  “Did he leave you Gladys, too?” I didn’t want my words to sound so bitter, but damn, the woman was mean. I dreaded putting up with her for a solid year.

  Clark chuckled. “Matter of fact, he did. She came to work for him when she was young, and by the time I joined the practice, she was running the place. I know she comes off a little brusque, but she’ll warm up to you. What you need to remember is that this office, this business, it’s her life. She doesn’t have any family. She lives by herself, and she eats, breathes and sleeps everything that goes on here. So if she seems a little intense, know that it’s because it’s all she has.”

  I snorted. “That sounds unhealthy to me. Maybe she should look into expanding her horizons a little.”

  “Good luck convincing her of that.” He smirked and flipped open a manila folder. “I printed out everything we agreed on digitally, so that we can sign the final paperwork today. The confirmation of your admission to the Georgia bar came through last week, and I’ve got that right here. All of the client files have been transferred to you, and you’ve been added as counsel to anything active in the courts right now.”

  “Thanks.” I skimmed the official looking document. “I appreciate your help with the motion to admit me without examination. It was so helpful to have someone on the ground here, so to speak, who knows the ins and outs of the system.”

  Clark smiled, looking pleased. “Happy to be of help. And listen, if you need the skinny on anyone in the courthouse, just give me a call or shoot me an email. I know it’s not easy navigating unfamiliar waters.”

  “Thanks.” I scooted closer to the desk. “Show me where to sign.”

  We spent the next fifteen minutes taking care of the final details in the document that changed the Law Office of Clark Morgan to the Law Office of Elizabeth Hudson. When the last i was dotted and the last t crossed, I expected to experience relief or maybe even excitement. Instead, I only felt numb.

  “Do you need help bringing in your things? Do you have boxes in the car?” The departing Mr. Morgan handed me the keys to the front door of the building and to our office then stood before me, rocking back on his heels.

  I closed my hand around the keys. “Just a few, but no, thanks. I’ve got them. Nothing’s too heavy. Most of it’s stuff for my desk.” I pointed to it. “Your desk, I mean.”

  “No, darlin’, it’s all yours now.” Clark winked at me. “Hey, did I dream it, or did you tell me that you’d married a boy from Burton? I never did ask you who, and my wife was pestering me about it.”

  I bit the side of my lip. “Uh, well . . . it was Trent Wagoner. But actually, things there are sort of unsettled right now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

  Frowning, Clark nodded. “Of course. Well, if there’s a person who knows how to keep secrets, it’s a lawyer in a small town, right?” He fiddled with the key ring in his hand. “You might not want to say anything to Gladys just yet, until things are more certain. She can be a little persnickety about that kind of thing. High moral fiber, you know.”

  I sniffed. “I don’t see myself confiding deep, dark secrets to her. But thanks for the warning.”

  “Of course. Now don’t forget what I said. Call me if you have questions at all. And keep me posted on how things go. I just know you’re going to get along fine.”

  With that comforting thought, Clark Morgan squeezed my hand and turned to leave, without even a backward glance at the office that was formerly his. I guessed he’d said his good-byes earlier.

  For a few minutes, I stood in the middle of the room, enjoying the silence and the peace. It reminded me a little of the library, which in turn reminded me that I wanted to stop by and pick up my library card this afternoon, now that Trent had provided me with a copy of our lease as my proof of address. I had a feeling Cory Evans might’ve overlooked the rule and given me the card regardless, but I didn’t feel right asking. When it came to libraries, rules were rules.

  Taking a deep breath, I ventured out into the hallway and through the reception area. I paused in the doorway to the outer foyer, calling over my shoulder to Gladys. “I’m running out to my car to bring in my boxes. Be right back.”

  “Hmph.” She managed to convey disapproval and skepticism in that single syllable. I decided to ignore her and keep going.

  I hadn’t been fibbing to Clark when I’d said I didn’t have much to tote inside. One box held the desk set my parents had given me for my law school graduation, complete with a brass name plate. The other had in it a few framed pictures, my diplomas and all the essential documents I needed to keep on hand. I was glad that the advent of e-books and computers meant I didn’t need to haul tons of heavy law books from pillar to post; I’d seen those suckers, and having to move them would’ve given me a hernia. Instead, everything I needed was in one handy-dandy program on my laptop.

  I purposely kept my eyes averted from Gladys as I marched through her domain again. Still, I could feel her glacier glare on my back until I closed the door of my office and began pulling things from the cardboard boxes.

  In the sunlight streaming in through the windows, I could see a fine layer of dust on the surface of the desk. I hesitated, considering my options. My mother had taught me never to set up anything on a dusty surface, whether it was china on a table or knick-knacks on a shelf. But I didn’t have any furniture polish or rags with me, and the idea of asking Gladys for them wasn’t appealing.

  I ran an experimental finger over the edge of the cherry wood. Yeah, that was a substantial amount there. No way I could feel good about setting up my blotter, pens and Elizabeth Hudson name plate on a dusty desk. Girding up my loins, I stepped into the small hallway and called her name.

  “Gla—Mrs. West, do we have stuff for dusting the furniture? I want to make sure I do it right. Can’t have my desk getting dusty, right?”

  For a beat, there was no answer. And then the woman herself appeared at the far end of the hallway, hands on her hips. “I just dusted everything in that office yesterday. It’
s fine.”

  I waved my hand. “Oh, I’m not complaining, and thank you for dusting, but you know how things get. If you just point me in the right direction, I’ll take care of it.”

  Her lips pursed into a pucker. For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to tell me where the cleaning supplies were kept. But in the end, she jerked her head toward me.

  “Behind you, in the closet at the very end of the hall. Coffee filters and bathroom tissue are also stored there.” She stalked back to her desk, and I heard the chair squeak as she sat back down. I did a little dance to celebrate my small victory and went to fetch the dusting supplies.

  Getting the desk and filing cabinets dusted and set up took me all of about fifteen minutes. I flipped through some of the files Clark had noted as being more pressing than others, but frankly, nothing was urgent. This firm handled the full gamut of small-town law, without getting involved in any criminal cases outside of the occasional traffic violation. Mostly, it seemed, they’d dealt with family law—wills, divorces and custody cases—and property sales. The calendar was heavily dotted with real estate closings.

  It was nearly noon when I finished organizing my office. I wandered out to the front, where Gladys was pulling a thin clear plastic cover over her computer monitor and keyboard. She glanced up when she heard me coming.

  “I take my lunch from twelve noon until one PM every day. On pleasant days, I eat on the back deck of the house. On days with inclement weather, I have my lunch here in this room. During that hour, I switch the telephone over to the voicemail system and turn off my computer.” She pointed to the desktop unit.