Wills & Trust (Legally in Love Collection Book 3)

by Jennifer Griffith

  As for finagling a way to get what he wanted, LaBarge didn’t have physical custody of the Called Shot Ball yet, but he’d already wrenched it out of Brooke’s hands. So, yeah. Incremental steps toward getting his way.

  That left the feasible lie.

  Dane’s throat got tight. If LaBarge brought lies to court about Brooke, he’d—

  “That’s his MO.” Ames pushed his coffee cup aside. “Been there, been the victim of that.”

  “Save it.” Dane refused to let any Ames Crosby sob story sidetrack him, even for a second. “Right now it’s Brooke we’re discussing.”

  Ames frowned, but assented.

  “So.” Dane ticked off the pieces of Crosby’s theory. “Slander, with a threat of physical harm. A twisted truth about the situation, and then steamroller toward his goal. Got it.” Dane’s gut twisted. If LaBarge really showed up Tuesday with this pickup-load of manure to dump on the court, Brooke could get seriously hurt. He had to stop this guy. Cold.

  “You were in the guy’s family for a year.” Dane tried to keep the scoffing out of his voice, but he didn’t succeed. He needed to play nice, though. Crosby would have inside information beyond just the ways LaBarge went on the attack. “You lived there, right? Did LaBarge have any baseball collecting habits?”

  Crosby rolled his eyes. “Have you ever heard the definition of ‘obsession?’” Before he could grace them with the Merriam-Webster treatment on that word, his phone went off. An alarm.

  “I’m getting called in.” He looked at the screen, and then stood to go. “They still have me on rotations at Naughton until my clinic opens.” Crosby turned and met Brooke’s eyes. “I’m going to need nurses on my staff at the urgent care. I know it’s not the same as a hospital, but the hours will be good, and—”

  Disgust roiled inside Dane’s gut. “You’ve got a patient in need.” How dare he offer Brooke a job— after all that had happened?

  Ames smirked, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned to leave.

  “Wait up a second, Crosby.” Dane had to know one more thing. “All this information you’re splashing out at us. Are you willing to testify to it? In court?”

  Ames blinked a few times. “I’m thinking of this as deep background you’d need. You can find others to corroborate it.” Crosby left.

  Dane watched Brooke watch Ames leave, but her face was a stone. Did she still care about him? He couldn’t read anything there.

  Worse, if Brooke somehow convinced Crosby to testify on the stand, his testimony could be key. And he’d be the hero of the court case, while Dane was downstairs getting disbarred.

  He had to tell her. He had to tell her now about the scheduling conflict.

  “What else did Crosby know about LaBarge and baseball?” Brooke said as her phone rang, cutting through the thick air. “He had something else. Maybe something big.”

  Yeah, like a lie. Or a free pass to the primrose path, just for Brooke.

  She answered her phone. It wasn’t on speaker, but Dane sat close enough to hear the woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Is this Brooke? Brooke Chadwick?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Oh, good. We met last week, and you were as sweet as honey, but I somehow didn’t catch your name, and in fact, I didn’t realize until I saw your picture on the news that it was really you, Nurse Brooke.”

  Dane finally put it together. It was that neighbor lady of Harvey Jarman’s. The one with no handwriting samples.

  “You might not remember me, but this is Twyla Tyler. I’d like to speak to you, if you have time. Can you come today? I mean, right now?”

  __________

  Brooke’s knee bounced the whole way to Naughton. And Dane was even more taciturn toward her than he’d even been when he’d been talking to Ames, which might have felt like swimming in a lake of acid, if she had to come up with a simile. Something must have happened last night when he left to go see Tweed, but he wasn’t telling her, and now didn’t seem like the moment to ask.

  A gap widened between them, even greater than when she’d told him they couldn’t kiss anymore until after this court case ended.

  Bringing Ames in might have been a mistake. She hated that she’d had to. But what other character witness did they have? Not that he was willing to testify, but it did give them something to go on. Dane would figure that out, right?

  Thank goodness he was going to be at her side on Tuesday. She’d never make it through without him. Even if he wasn’t her official lawyer, he’d be in the courtroom, and she could benefit from his calm reassurance during the hearing.

  Or he might just throw caution to the wind and represent her. When she’d begged him to think of his career, he’d acted like he’d handle things, and for her not to be concerned.

  But she was. She really owed him for what he was putting on the line for her, even by driving to see Mrs. Tyler.

  How she could repay him, she didn’t know. The thing she’d like most to offer— her love— she still didn’t know if he’d want. Not long term. Not like she wanted.

  A sidelong glance at him showed his dimple had flattened. If only she could kiss it back into existence. The no-kissing mandate was making this whole thing worse.

  This whole thing was tying her in knots again.

  For all the reasons, Tuesday afternoon couldn’t come soon enough.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of Mrs. Tyler’s house. It had an elaborate flower garden, and every inch of it bloomed with spring color. What Harvey’s yard had lacked, Mrs. Tyler’s had in abundance.

  “Yes. I’m glad I found you.” Mrs. Tyler removed her gardening gloves and shook Brooke’s hand with a rough, work-worn hand. “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize you when you came before. It seems like my soul should have known yours instinctively. It wasn’t until I saw the news story last night that the light bulb came on. And I mean light bulb like the stadium kind— big halogens you need sunglasses to glance at.”

  Brooke wasn’t grasping her meaning, but Mrs. Tyler led them around the back of her house to a gazebo draped with climbing clematis vines and dotted with purple and white striped flowers. Brooke and Dane took a seat on the deck chairs as Mrs. Tyler directed.

  “News story?” Brooke asked.

  “Oh, you know. About the bomb threat at your house, museum, whatever. I was so worried once I realized it was you.” Twyla Tyler waved a hand at her. “But you. You’re Brooke Chadwick.”

  With a nervous grin, Brooke glanced at Dane, who gave a shrug of confusion. “I didn’t realize there had been a story about the bomb threat. No harm was done.”

  “Well, that’s a massive relief. If you’d exploded I wouldn’t have been able to thank you.”

  Now Brooke was really lost. Mrs. Tyler could see this, so she passed over a tall glass of lemonade and said, “It was the baseball museum that finally tipped me off. And your name. You didn’t introduce yourself when you came before. But I saw your photo in the news story and I put it together.”

  “Put what together?”

  “That you’re Nurse Brooke. You took care of Little O. You’re the one who told him the baseball stories, the one who made him love the Called Shot story.”

  “Little O?” Brooke racked her brain to remember a specific child.

  “Oscar. Oscar Rutledge.”

  “Oscar!” Brooke caught her breath. “You’re his grandmother?” Her heart flooded with memories and warmth and sadness all at once. “I loved him. What a special kid.” Oscar was not a kid she’d ever forget. In fact, she liked one of her current patients, Presley, just because he reminded Brooke of Oscar Rutledge.

  “Darn straight. That kid won everybody’s hearts. Even Harvey Jarman’s— but not until he was here visiting us between some of his rounds of treatments and he told Mr. Jarman about the Called Shot.” Mrs. Tyler smiled, her eyes glossing up with nostalgia. “Oscar gave a play-by-play of the legendary moment so vivid it was almost like he’d been there him
self. The story forged a bond between the two of them.”

  Brooke’s eyes tingled with tears. She had to sniff a little. “Good stories can erase the years between people.”

  “Exactly.” Mrs. Tyler reached over and rested a hand on Brooke’s on the table. “You gave them that. You’re the nurse, the Nurse Brooke, who told Oscar that story.”

  All she could do was nod.

  Dane cleared his throat. “We’d wondered how Brooke was possibly connected to Harvey Jarman. She’d never heard of him before the reading of the will.”

  “Oh, the will.” Mrs. Tyler pulled back. “Jarman didn’t have children, but he loved Oscar. When Little O looked like he might get better, Mr. Jarman confided in me his intention to write Oscar into his will as recipient of the Called Shot Ball. Up to then, I had no idea Harvey even had it. He kept it a big secret, didn’t want reporters snooping around or museums or collectors hounding him. He’d gotten enough of that a few years back. A relative leaked that the ball existed, and suddenly Jarman was getting pressured by a local shyster to leave it to him.”

  “Shyster?”

  “You know, that politician. The one with the fat red lip.” Mrs. Tyler’s own lip curled in disgust.

  LaBarge. No question. Brooke soured at the thought of LaBarge harassing Jarman. Even if she’d never met the guy, she felt protective over him. Nobody should be stuck in LaBarge’s crosshairs.

  “So he kept its existence under wraps,” Dane said.

  “He learned his lesson— the hard way, by getting cajoled into doing something distasteful.” Mrs. Tyler looked like she genuinely pitied his situation, and Brooke knew how LaBarge could pressure someone. He wasn’t afraid to put the screws to people.

  “Like leaving the ball to, er, a politician?” Brooke asked.

  “Exactly. But it never set well with him that the ball would go to someone like that, and when Jarman took ill, he asked me if I knew where Little O had heard the story. Little O was gone by then, but I knew it was Nurse Brooke. He had me call up the Maddox General hospital and find out your full name, which was no small task, considering privacy laws and such. Believe me.”

  Blinking, Brooke finally spoke. “So it was you. You gave my name to Jarman.”

  “Because you were the reason Jarman loved Little O. It only seemed fitting that he leave the ball to someone who loved the Called Shot story enough to teach it to a young boy.”

  Dane tugged on Brooke’s sleeve. He leaned in, and his hot breath caressed her ear. It sent a shiver up her neck. “We need her. This is your best shot at a disinterested character witness.”

  Someone not related to her, right. She gave Dane a nod of the go-ahead.

  At this, Dane sat forward. “Mrs. Tyler, what are you doing Tuesday at four o’clock?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Allegations

  On the way back to Maddox, Dane’s mood seemed to lighten. Good news will do that. But she still didn’t broach the subject of what had happened to sour him in the first place. If Tweed had given him bad news last night, Brooke would let him tell her in his own time.

  He was always forthcoming. He was always there for her.

  “So, I have a request. I know, I know. How many requests can one girl have, right? That’s what you’re thinking?”

  Dane’s dimple sank a fraction of its depth, so she pressed on.

  “Can I …” she paused a moment before spilling it all out in a single breath, “dash into my apartment and get a few things? Especially different shoes. These heels are going to be the death of me. I’ll be faster than lightning, I promise. Two days in the same clothes, and my skin’s starting to itch.” When he didn’t respond, she blundered on. “I totally get the need for secrecy, at least until the trial is over, so I can wear dark glasses and a hat if you think that’d be better.”

  Dane’s dimple sank another fraction of the way. “If you’ve got an itch, I’ll be glad to scratch it.”

  “Dane—” Did he know how tempting his half-lidded eyes were, how they tugged her into them? If he knew how they put her into complete submission, he wouldn’t have asked. He should be careful with absolute power like that. Especially if he didn’t mean forever with his offer.

  “I know, I know.” No, he probably didn’t. “Keeping my distance.” He drove his Dodge straight toward the alley behind Left Field. When they pulled up, Quirt was sitting on the back stoop of the museum, looking like he was ready to blow a gasket.

  “You’d better just clear off, Rockwell.” He was on his feet, and his temples and jaw were pulsating with clenching muscles.

  “Hey. What’s the big deal?” Dane didn’t clear off. “We have good news about the hearing, and—”

  “And I’ll get all from my sister.” Wow. If looks could kill, Quirt would be laser-slicing Dane’s head off right now.

  “Fine.” Dane huffed. “Brooke, I’ll see you at the boat.” He reached for her hand, and she reached for him to squeeze it, but Quirt roared to life.

  “No. You won’t. And that’s final.”

  At that, Dane left. Brooke watched him drive off, a piece of her going with him. For everything he’d done for her this past day, he deserved some kind of thanks, not bellowed threats from Quirt.

  “What’s your problem?” Brooke whirled on him.

  “My problem? What are you thinking, moving in with that guy? Do you even know what he’s like? He’s a predator. Women aren’t safe around him. Especially not you.”

  Predator! “What do you mean, especially not me?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen the way you look at him, like your tongue might come lolling out of your head, like you want to eat him for breakfast.” He scowled. “Or maybe you already did, considering you moved into his boat with him last night.”

  All she could do for a moment was stand there, blinking. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Aunt Ruth told me.” Quirt paced up and down the cracked old concrete of the stoop. “When I saw the news about the bomb this morning, naturally I went ballistic.”

  “Like a bomb.”

  “I’ll bomb you.” He huffed again. “I went to the police, and they didn’t know where you’d gone. This place was empty and cordoned off. I had no idea where else you’d be, and then when I found Ruth downtown at the Piggly Wiggly with a shopping cart full of pre-packaged frozen dinners, she said you’ve moved in with Dane Rockwell. On a yacht.” He lowered his voice. “I thought you had standards. I thought we both promised Mom and Dad that we’d— you know— save ourselves for marriage.”

  Flummoxed, Brooke could hardly answer. “Is that what you think? Do you think I’ve broken that promise?”

  “What else am I supposed to think, Brooke? It’s the only conclusion.”

  “Well, what about the conclusion where I’m not sleeping with your best friend? What about that conclusion?”

  “But you obviously want to. I saw the two of you. I’ve seen the two of you ever since he started slavering after you when you turned sixteen, ever since I had to start threatening him not to touch you when you were in high school.”

  Sixteen? “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her and Dane’s relationship back then was a total one-way street.

  “Oh, don’t I? I know guys. And Rockwell is more guy than most.” A growl escaped him. “Truthfully, he’s far more of a threat than that bomb last night.”

  “To my eternal soul, you mean.” Acid laced her response.

  “Exactly.” Satisfied, Quirt stopped pacing. “So you’ll move out? You’re not …compromised?”

  Fury at his suggestion tempted her to deny him the information. “Quirt. You can be such a jerk.”

  “You’re my sister. It’s my job to be a jerk to guys who don’t have your best interests in mind.”

  “And Dane Rockwell doesn’t?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Definitely no. I saw how he looked at you just now. Like you’re meat.”

  Meat. Like she was meat. It took a moment to g
ather herself before she said, “Remember, after Mom and Dad died? I was in a wheelchair for three months when my femurs were broken in the same accident.”

  Quirt’s hackles went up. “We don’t have to do this, Brooke.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “It won’t do any good, Brooke. They’re gone. You got hurt. I couldn’t stop any of it.”

  “You weren’t even in the car. You were the lucky one.”

  “Lucky!”

  “Yes, Quirt. You were lucky. Blessed. God protected you. He kept you on this earth for a purpose— so you could marry Olivia, become a father someday, like our dad was to us. So you could teach geometry to high school students, so you could help me get better after the accident.”

  “You had Aunt Ruth.”

  “She was busy providing shelter and food, dealing with the aftermath of Mom and Dad’s insurance paperwork, that mountain of responsibility.” Brooke frowned. “I needed emotional support. I needed you. I lost my parents that day, but it felt like I’d lost you, too. I had no one.” She lowered her voice. “Except Dane.”

  “Rockwell?” Quirt’s eyes darted open. “What did that funnel cake-stealing loser do?”

  “Quit calling him a loser. I know you’re mad at him right now, but keep in mind he found a secluded location for Aunt Ruth and me to be kept safe after my life was threatened on account of that baseball. And he’s been the one walking me through every step of this whole ordeal. He’s the one who went with me to the reading, who’s helping me in the aftermath of the inheritance, who protected me from physical danger.”

  “You know I had state standardized testing the day of the will reading. I couldn’t leave school.”

  Brooke didn’t let his protests distract her. “I don’t know how your mind works, Quirt. It’s like you’re overprotective of me every step of my life, stifling me. But then, when there comes a time that I really need you, you’re nowhere to be found.”