Nine
“A trust fund?” Joshua said. “Was it a significant amount?” “Somewhere around five million.” Sylvia’s mouth dropped open. Joshua choked on the mouthful of wine. Hope had failed to mention a very important detail that may have been a factor in her husband’s activities. No sooner had he recovered from Hope’s surprise than the waitress arrived with their entrées. Hope had no interest in food and waved the plate away. Joshua knew her lack of appetite was the result of revisiting painful memories. “Can you box it up to go?” he asked. “She’s not feeling well. Do you have something bland, crackers or toast? A cup of sweet tea might help.” “I’ll see what I can come up with.” Unlike Hope, he and Sylvia were ravenous, the food simply an outlet for their real hunger, a juicy case. No wonder they called lawyers ‘sharks.’ He cut his steak and ate with gusto. “So, tell us about this trust fund. Who is the benefactor? What conditions are attached?” “The conditions are immaterial. I don’t plan to claim anything from my former life.” “You may not, but there’s every chance that your ex-husband isn’t as altruistic.” She took another sip of wine. “My paternal grandmother set up the trust fund sometime during my early teenage years, when she was diagnosed with heart disease. She passed away shortly before I graduated from high school. Both my step-brothers have similar trusts.” Joshua nodded to encourage her to continue. “I have no idea what it’s worth now.” “And you say it matures on your twenty-fifth birthday? When is that?” “It was last month.” He swore, drawing disapproving looks from nearby diners. He glanced at Sylvia. “So he has it already.” Hope looked at each on them in turn. “If you’re think Mark got the money, you’re dead wrong. He doesn’t even know about the trust fund. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Sylvia broke in. “Meaning what? That you never told him? Hope, he works at the same firm that administers the trust. He has access to the firm’s computer. I’m sure he’s an enterprising young man. Why do you think he courted you? Why do you think he took over your life, forced you to drop out of college—” “He didn’t force me!” “Maybe not, but he made it difficult enough on you that you succumbed to his wishes.” Joshua spoke up. “Sylvia has a good point. What are the provisions of the trust? Who’s next of kin?” “Not him. Any children I have.” Joshua rapped his fist lightly on the table. “There you go.” Once again Sylvia reached across the table and squeezed Hope’s hand. “Joshua’s right. Mark has custody of your daughter. That’s probably why he forced you to have a child so quickly after your marriage. He wanted unlimited access to your funds.” “That’s why he convinced everyone that you were incompetent and had you committed,” Joshua added. The whole sordid plot turned her stomach. How could he pretend to love her, make love to her, father a child by her, when he had such evil intentions? A new thought came to mind. “What about Casey? Is she safe with him?” Joshua hesitated before answering. “For now, surely she is. She’s too young to pose a threat, and it’s too soon to put her in danger. Otherwise he might attract attention from your father or from anyone in his firm who might be familiar with the details of your marriage or your supposed condition prior to your divorce.” “I need to get out of here. I can’t breathe anymore.” Joshua nodded to Sylvia and they both stood. “I’ll take care of the bill. Will you keep an eye on her?” “Of course. Come on, sweetie. We’ll take good care of you.” To Joshua, she said quietly. “I want to get this bastard.” He agreed completely. ~ * ~ “You’re supposed to be watching the DVD,” Joshua reminded her. “The idea is to forget your problems.” The action flick didn’t appeal. All she wanted was to be in her own home, curled up with a good book. His side of the duplex annoyed her with all the festivity and scents reminiscent of Christmas. He’d lit a dozen scented candles, plugged in the tree lights and dimmed the overheads. “Did it ever occur to you that I need privacy to mull over all I’ve learned today? I have a whole new perspective on the last five years of my life. I have to get used to everything that happened and why. Where did I go wrong? How could I have prevented the series of events?” “That’s exactly my point. You’ll analyze the past to death and blame yourself for another batch of mistakes, when you weren’t responsible. You were manipulated by a pro. Let’s think of ways to get back at him. Imagine what it will be like when you have your daughter back.” “I can’t. I absolutely can’t get my hopes up, because if I lose her again, it will kill me.” “You have a team of lawyers on your side now. Every attorney in the firm will back Sylvia and me with their expertise. That’s the beauty of a small firm. We won’t let you down.” “I appreciate that. I don’t know why you even want to help. I’ve been so antisocial ever since you moved in.” Joshua turned her face toward him and leaned his forehead against hers. “Yeah, you were a real bitch at first. But now I understand what made you act that way. You were afraid to let anyone get close for fear of getting hurt again. But you still helped me with Kimmie multiple times, and you made the party a success. I never could have done it without you.” “That was nothing compared to what you plan to do for me.” “You’re worth it. Do you know how bad I want to protect you?” He wrapped his strong arms around her and eased her onto his lap, then laid down so that they faced each other, lying together on the brown leather couch. “Do you have any idea how I much I want you?” She shook her head. “That scares me, too. I’ve only been with one man in my life before you, and I couldn’t satisfy him long term.” “That wasn’t your fault.” He smiled. “You had no problems satisfying me last night.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if not seeing the desire in his eyes would make it go away. “Just to remind you.” He moved her hand to cover his erection. “This is how you make me feel.” She removed her hand as soon as he let it go, but between kisses, he whispered, “Touch me.” She moved her hand over him again, gently at first, stroking the length, gauging the hardness, making him groan with pleasure. When she cupped him lower, he nearly lost control. “I feel like a teenager again. Megan was sick for two years before she died.” “It’s been a long time for me, too.” With the back of his knuckles, he gently rubbed over her breasts. She swelled to his touch, and he unbuttoned her silk blouse, tugged it out of her waistband. “Let me know if I’m going too fast.” “Faster, please.” “Really?” He was so clumsy with need that he was incapable of opening her buttons. He finally slid her blouse up over her head, lathing her breasts through her thin material of her bra. She thrust her chest up to meet his kisses, watching as his mouth covered her peak. “Most women close their eyes. You keep yours open.” “I don’t want to miss a thing.” “Taste me. Open my shirt and touch me.” He pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it to the floor. “Go ahead. Undress me.” With a tiny smile, she unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes never leaving his face. He groaned when she touched his bare flesh, rimming his nipples with her tongue. Only when she tugged at his sleeve did he help her take the shirt off the whole way. After all the memories she’d been through today, he dare not scare her off. She surprised him by unhooking his belt, looking him straight in the eye. He winked at her in encouragement. She still had most of her clothes on and he thought it probably helped make her feel secure, even powerful. She tugged at the waist of his trousers. “Help me.” “Gladly.” He made short work of it. “Tell me what you feel.” “Powerful, because that big bulge is for me. Curious, since I only ever had one lover before you, but you’re better than he.” “I think I can, I think I can...” He made her laugh. She wasn’t used to that. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly, wanting her so badly he couldn’t stand it, but afraid to rush her and have her chicken out. “I do think so. Do you want to take your clothes off, or are you more comfortable with them on?” She giggled. “It might be tough with pantyhose.” “Good point. May I have the pleasure?” She answered with a big smile. “Next time we do this, you get to do a striptease for me. Would you like that?” “You’re so good to me. I don’t know where you get the patience to put up with me.” “It’s all because I—care about you.” He’d almost said the “L” word. ~ * ~ Sylvia arrived at the plush su
ite on the twenty ninth floor of the prestigious law firm, feeling elegant in the Ralph Lauren suit she’d bought yesterday afternoon on Michigan Avenue. Twenty-five hundred bucks not counting the Gucci scarf she wore beneath it. Yesterday in the dressing room she’d almost chickened out of spending that much on one outfit, but she needed luxurious new duds for confidence. She was in the big leagues now. Clothes don’t make the man, she told herself, but good clothes sure don’t hurt. “Sylvia Patton to see Martin Hardcastle.” She dumped her fake fur on the extra chair. If a person wore a real fur in Madison, they were likely to be the target of spray paint from the animal rights activists. The receptionist also wore a designer suit, but she probably knew where to find it at a discount. She looked Sylvia up and down, her eyebrows climbing. “Yes, Mr. Hardcastle is expecting you.” Sylvia blessed every penny she’d spent. “May I offer a drink? Coffee, tea? Mineral water?” “Water, please.” She hated mineral water, found it pretentious, but it showed she had balls. She’d make the receptionist carry it into Martin Hardcastle’s office when he summoned her. He made her wait fifteen minutes past her appointment, which she knew was deliberate, a control game. She did the same herself on occasion if she knew ahead of time a client had an attitude. When he buzzed the receptionist, Sylvia heard him say, “Please show Ms. Patton in, Jennifer.” Sylvia flashed a little smile and followed her down the hall to a corner office. Jennifer knocked and opened the door without waiting for a summons. “Ms. Patton,” she announced. He crossed the large sweep of carpeting to meet her halfway, engulfing her hand in his and holding it longer than polite. “Come sit down. May I offer something to drink?” “Mineral water would be lovely.” “Jennifer.” The young woman smiled and let herself out. Rather than taking his place behind his desk, he propped one hip on the edge of his cherry desk, just a few feet in front of Sylvia. She was well aware that he studied her, the long legs in dark silk stockings and her four inch heels. Hope’s description was perfect. He was Casanova and James Bond and Sean Connery all in one, charming, debonair and oh, so sexy a bundle. What a shame business brought her here instead of pleasure. He chatted about how lucky they were with the mild winter so far, and where she was staying in the city and whether she’d been in Chicago before. “Oh, yes. Business brings me here from time to time. I love your shopping and your fast pace. Even the traffic. It’s so cosmopolitan.” “Hardly fast paced,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re a glutton for punishment.” Once Jennifer brought Sylvia’s water, he took his place behind his desk. “What brings you to me today?” “As I said when I made the appointment, I represent your daughter Hope Hardcastle.” He stiffened. “How is my daughter? She hasn’t been in touch with me for several years.” Sylvia nodded deliberately. “She’s getting her life back together. She’s working on her Masters and doing a good job for a company she manages.” He named the company, much to Sylvia’s surprise. So he wasn’t totally uncaring. At least he kept an eye on her. How could he have let Mark Llewellyn get away with his dirty deeds before their divorce—unless he was in on it with Hope’s ex? She forced her most urgent manner into her reply. “I hope that, with your cooperation, we can be discreet with this whole affair, but be warned: I plan to file suit against your son-in-law for a whole shit-pot full of charges on Hope’s behalf. If you refuse, I’ll go to the police, and make sure he will spend a great many years in jail.” She laid out her whole case, summarized the APS or attending physician’s statements from all the doctors and clinics and hospitals Hope had seen since her marriage to Mark Llewellyn. Sylvia never could have gathered the records herself in so short a time, but Hope acquired a copy from a psychiatrist she’d seen in Madison when she first moved there. He’d ordered her full medical history as a matter of course. “How dare you defile our family with your threats?” “I make no threats, except to see Mark Llewellyn behind bars.” “Everything you say leads me to believe that my daughter was just as disturbed as we knew her to be. My son-in-law was correct in trying to protect her from herself.” “You sound concerned, yet you never contacted her in the last three years since she began rebuilding her own life. How could you lose touch?” “I kept track of her from afar. I thought it important to let her find her path on her own. She was never overly strong.” What a self-righteous, anti-feminist prick. “What about the trust fund her grandmother set up?” “What about it? No one has touched it. The reason I know is because I’m the only one with access.” “Have you checked lately?” “Has anyone told you you’re very annoying?” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Humor me.” He stared at her for long minutes. “I guess it really doesn’t matter if Hope’s ex gets the money. I mean, he’ll just be administering the fund for your granddaughter.” “Quiet!” he turned to his laptop, punched in whatever program and codes needed to access his granddaughter’s account. “That son-of-a-bitch. It’s gone! Every last penny! He better have a good excuse for this.” “You mean someone beside you touched the trust fund?” Sylvia taunted. “You want to bet the first thing he buys for little Casey is a fifty-foot yacht? Did he ever marry Rhonda, the woman who used to call Hope while Mark was screwing her? Is she the same one who grabbed your granddaughter in Sacs and left her in the public bathroom?” She was getting to him. Though he said nothing, Martin Hardcastle’s face grew a deeper shade of red with each allegation Sylvia disclosed. By the time she finished, he was a dull purple. “I’ll kill him before I allow him to touch one hair on my granddaughter’s head. He better pay back every dollar he took from my daughter’s inheritance, too. I’m calling the police.” Oh, so now it was his daughter’s inheritance again. “Yes, by all means, do call the police... And tell them what? That he drove your daughter crazy? Like they’re going to believe you? And by the way, he has authority to do whatever he sees fit with those funds. He had power of attorney.” Martin Hardcastle stood, towering over the desk in his rage, and she cringed, sure he’d strike her, but he walked to the credenza and lifted a heavy crystal bottle. He poured a healthy shot of amber liquor, glanced at her, and filled a second glass. “You want it watered down or straight up?” “That’s fine,” she said, indicating the latter. “I don’t have ice.” “I can handle it, if you can.” Once they’d sipped the scotch, she leaned toward him. “Why didn’t you suspect any of this? You were there. You must have seen the change in her personality as he brainwashed her.” “My son-in-law is a most charming and intelligent young man. He also happens to be a genius, though he must have crossed the line to insanity. No sane person would go to the lengths he did, stalking and courting her, driving her crazy, or making it appear so.” “We need to get your granddaughter away from him before we try anything.” “I’ll send a car. She’s in daycare.” “And then what?” “I find a good lawyer and sue the bastard.” “I like the way you think.”
Hope For The Holidays Page 6