Treasured Past

by Linda Hill

  He reminded me again that he wouldn’t settle for anything less than the value of the house. Funny. The way he’d phrased it, it sounded as though he wasn’t really interested in the house itself. Just the price that it would fetch and the money it would put in his pocket.

  I had wondered how long it would take Donald to find his way into my office. But after three weeks, I didn’t have to wait any longer.

  “Am I interrupting?” Donald’s white hair was in stark contrast with his tanned skin. I knew that his question was a mere formality, and that he didn’t give a damn whether he was interrupting me or not.

  “Come in,” I told him, my smile tight and fixed. Here we go.

  He didn’t shut the door behind him, and I was secretly encouraged. At least he would think twice before raising his voice.

  “How are we doing?” Another attempt to be courteous. But I wasn’t going to be lulled.

  “Just fine,” I told him, careful to keep my voice light.

  He smiled and nodded before folding himself into one of the two overstuffed armchairs that faced my desk.

  “Thought I’d stop in and see how Donald’s case is coming along.” He paused briefly. “Should I be worried about the fact that you haven’t given me an update in several weeks?”

  “Not at all.” I put on my best professional demeanor. “There just isn’t much of an update to give you. The court date has been set for August thirteenth.” I paused. More just to make him wait than for any other reason. “I met with the other attorney and presented your son’s wishes about the house.” I purposely stopped at that point to make him ask for more information.

  “And?” I could see his impatience, even though he was struggling to hide it. “Did they agree to our terms?”

  You mean, did they agree to be blackmailed? I wanted to say the words aloud but held back. I still had several more cards to play.

  “The attorney said that she would discuss it with her client. We’re scheduled to meet again a week from Thursday.”

  Donald nodded, and I took the opportunity to soften my voice and play the role of the helpless, ignorant female.

  “Donald. I don’t think I ever asked you. What does your son do for a living?”

  The crease between his brows deepened. “He’s in real estate.”

  Real estate. How appropriate. “Is he quite successful, then?” I knew I was walking a fine line by starting this line of questioning.

  “I don’t really see where that’s any of your business,” he snapped, the ferocity of his tone surprising me.

  Bingo. I’d hit a sore spot. This could get interesting.

  I forced my voice to remain calm, even casual. “Well, Donald, I agree that on a personal level, your son’s financial affairs are none of my business. But as his attorney, I must admit that I’m feeling a bit at a loss. It’s as though there are some important pieces of information that are missing for me.” I dropped my voice to a hushed tone. “My concern is that some of this information might surface when we get inside that courtroom.”

  “And I’m assuming that you’ll never let this case get that far. I’m paying you to make sure that this is settled before it gets to a judge.” His voice was firm and brittle.

  I remained calm, spreading my palms on the desktop. “I understand your wishes, sir. But my concern is that your son’s wife seems to be reluctant to settle under his terms. If she refuses to settle, then I’m going to be ill prepared to explain to a judge why your son is so deserving of their home.”

  Donald was steaming, and I wasn’t sure if I should be pleased with myself, or if I should fear for my life. Nostrils flaring, he was clenching his jaw.

  “Your job is to make sure it never gets that far.” He was repeating himself. Could it be that he’d never considered that he would have to explain what a failure his son was to me, and for the public record?

  “I understand that, sir.” My voice was respectful but firm. “But let’s assume for a moment that this gets before a judge. How am I supposed to explain to him or her that your son deserves to own a house that he hasn’t lived in for four years?”

  I fully expected to see steam coming from his ears.

  “How did you find out about that?” he snarled.

  He’d finally managed to insult me. The sweetness left my voice.

  “Did you really expect that I wouldn’t do my homework?” I was incredulous. “Is that why you gave me this case? Because you have such a low opinion of my work and abilities that you thought I’d walk through this blindly without asking questions?”

  “Of course not.” Donald began to back-pedal. “Your work is nothing short of extraordinary. I wanted the best possible attorney to represent my son. That’s why I came to you.”

  Bullshit. I struggled to hold my tongue, and he seemed to interpret my hesitance as acquiescence. As if I would believe one word of your flattery.

  “There’s a significant bonus waiting for you if you’re successful with this.” His voice had grown quiet, and I could see that he believed he had gained the upper hand so easily.

  “And I appreciate that, sir.” I’d managed to regain control. “But I think that you should be prepared to hear some pretty ugly words if this goes to court.”

  He was staring at me, jaw working again, but saying nothing. I took his silence as encouragement to continue.

  “I understand that you and your son believe that you have a firm ground to stand on. But surely you know that others might be inclined to label your terms as blackmail.” It felt so good to say these words. “Particularly in light of the fact that your son hasn’t even been living in the house.”

  Donald’s face was a twisted frown. I couldn’t tell if he was furious with me or perhaps his son.

  “If this gets in front of a judge, I can guarantee you that this information will come out. I can promise you that the opposition will label it blackmail. And I can also promise you that a judge will take a look at all the facts, including the fact that the house was inherited by your son’s wife from her parents.” I took a deep breath for emphasis. “And that judge will have a very hard time justifying why your son deserves that house.”

  Ha. Surely he would see the mistake he was making and change his mind. Surely he would think it better to put his tail between his legs than face the wrath of a judge.

  His jaw stopped working as he held my gaze squarely. His smile was slow to unwind on his lips. Green eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair, and the smile turned into a self-satisfied sneer.

  “And there’s where you’re wrong, my dear.”

  I tried to steady myself. This wasn’t going as planned.

  He leaned forward, as if to share a secret for my ears alone. “I’ve been in this business a very long time, my dear.”

  If he called me my dear one more time, I might be tempted to slap him.

  “I know every judge in this county, and there isn’t one who doesn’t owe me a favor of some kind.” I thought he would burst the button of his overstarched shirt as he puffed himself all up. “So you see, my dear, this case getting in front of a judge is the least of my worries.”

  He stood up now, dismissing me and getting the final word. “Just do your job, and I’ll make it worth your while. Stop asking questions, and do your best to get this thing settled quickly.” He paused as his hand reached for the doorknob. “Do we understand each other?”

  Deflated, I did my best to hide my disappointment and disbelief, carefully toeing the company line.

  “We do, sir,” I told him, and was relieved to watch his back retreat from my office.

  Shoulders sagging, I let myself fall against the back of my chair. Closing my eyes, I wondered how I ever thought I could win this battle.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mondays had become my favorite weekday. For the past few weeks, I’d come home on Mondays to find Annie in my home. At first there had been meetings with contractors. She had wasted no time in gathering bids and speaking with a num
ber of professionals until she had settled on the best company for the job.

  We had gone over budgets, specifications, schedules, and blueprints until we’d come up with a plan we both loved and a price that I could swallow.

  Annie apparently had friends in all the right places, because the construction company wasted no time in delivering lumber and setting up shop in my soon-to-be library. On Mondays, she was there to supervise and provide direction when I was at work. And nearly every weeknight she showed up on my doorstep, a smile on her face and an eagerness to see what had been accomplished during the day.

  Today when I arrived, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the window, carefully stripping away the layers of paint that previous owners had applied to the woodwork.

  She wore overalls and a painter’s cap turned sideways so that it was neither forward or backward. She must not have heard me come in the door, and I slipped off my shoes before padding quietly into the room behind her.

  I waited until I was about three steps behind her before I spoke.

  “Aren’t we paying someone else an awful lot of money to do that?” The work was tedious. She was gently sweeping away some of the dirt and grit from within the groove of the woodwork.

  The face that she turned to me was warm and smiling. “You’re right. You are paying someone too much to do this for you.” She shrugged, her head tilting until one shoulder touched the bill of her cap. “But I can’t resist. I can’t tell you how much I love working like this.” She turned back to her work and brushed it lightly with a stiff brush.

  “They got a lot done today. Did you see that the structure is in place for the bookshelves?”

  I took a moment to turn and survey the far wall. Sure enough, the shelves had been framed. All traces of the white wall had been covered with rich cherrywood. None of the shelves or decorative molding was in place, but the structure was there. Annie’s vision was coming alive before my eyes.

  “Wow. It looks really nice, doesn’t it?”

  Annie had uncurled herself from the floor and now stood beside me. “It’s certainly taking shape.”

  She was close enough that I could smell the freshness of her hair, something I’d also grown used to and come to cherish and agonize over at the same time. It was all I could do to hold back. I could no longer count the number of times I’d wanted to reach out and take the pins from her hair. I yearned to watch it fall, to see just how long it was, and just how the wild curls would frame her face. But I did nothing. I just watched her from a distance, cherishing the moments when she was as close as she was now, and fantasizing about what it might be like to hold her close.

  I realized with a start that Annie was looking at me curiously. I must have been staring again.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I recovered.

  “You look distracted,” she persisted.

  “Maybe a little,” I admitted.

  “Work?” she asked.

  I groaned. “Maybe. A case I’m working on is frustrating the hell out of me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her brows drew together in a look of concern. We rarely talked about my work. Partly because I wanted to leave everything behind at the office. But partly too, I suspected, because Annie seemed to hold a certain distaste for my profession.

  I waved away her concern. “I don’t even want to think about it,” I told her. “Can you stay for dinner? I thought I’d go change and we could order out. Maybe Chinese?”

  “Sounds lovely,” she smiled.

  I studied her face, noting the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes before shaking myself and heading to my bedroom.

  I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, returning to find Annie standing before the window that she had been working on before. Her arms were folded loosely against her chest as she leaned against the window sill, staring out into the fading light. The cap she’d worn earlier was now discarded on the floor at her feet. She looked so thoughtful and distant that I didn’t want to disturb her.

  I stopped just inside the door to watch her, my heart rising to my throat as I traced the outline of her profile with my eyes.

  “I went ahead and ordered dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” Her voice sounded as distant as her gaze. She kept her eyes focused on some faraway target.

  The sound of her voice almost frightened me. I’d never heard her sound so quiet. She sounded depressed. Almost troubled.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked quietly.

  For some inexplicable reason, my heart was pounding as I answered. “Of course.”

  She didn’t speak right away, and I reasoned that she needed encouragement. So I walked farther into the room to join her. I settled myself against the window sill on the opposite side of the window. A good three feet separated us.

  Now that I was closer, I could see that her cheeks were flushed, as if she were embarrassed.

  “Annie?” I inquired gently, watching the eyes that she kept so carefully from mine.

  She was smiling, but it was a wry smile. She hesitated, taking a deep breath and sighing loudly before speaking.

  “Are you seeing anyone right now?” She continued to stare out the window.

  My heart thumped wildly. My laughter was born of nervous tension. “You’re here every day. So you tell me. Am I seeing anybody?”

  I was willing her to meet my gaze, but her refusal was steady. Tension hung in the air between us, and I hoped wildly that her question meant that she was interested in me.

  She was struggling with her response, and I could feel her anguish and hesitation. Again a heavy sigh escaped her before she spoke.

  “I guess that means that the only person you’re seeing is me.” Her eyes darted my way before returning to their faraway stare. I thought my heart would stop beating entirely.

  Did she say what I think she said? My mind was racing as wildly as my heart, jumping from one thought to the next. Silence stretched, and I could see Annie’s expression falter. She was so nervous.

  “Every chance I get.” I told her the truth. Heart palpitating, I took a gulp of air. “And if I had it my way, I’d see you even more.”

  Now it was my turn to be nervous. I watched her closely, praying that I’d said the right thing. That I’d read her correctly and hadn’t just made a total ass out of myself.

  Her expression cleared, a small smile finding her lips as relief spread over her. Then she was shaking her head slowly, still apparently unable to look me in the eye.

  “Annie?” My voice sounded meek.

  She continued to stare outside as she finally spoke. “I’m here with you every day, Kate, and it’s all I can do to keep my distance.” Her lips curled softly. “I keep hoping that maybe you’ve felt it too. That you feel the same way

  “I do.” My voice grew steady as my heart soared.

  Silence. Then finally she raised her eyes to mine. The width of the window was between us, and all I wanted to do was close the gap.

  I could see the nervous energy in her eyes.

  “Really?” The word was nearly a whisper.

  “Really.” I was smiling now, full of confidence.

  Her eyes were on my smile, and I watched as her lips finally curled shyly.

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?” She was growing bold, almost playful.

  My face blanched. “Too scared, number one.”

  She studied me. “And number two?” Her head tilted to one side.

  I hesitated. “When I learned that you had been married, I thought maybe that you were straight. Nothing’s worse than approaching a straight woman and getting rejected.”

  She considered my words. “I suppose that’s so. But I thought that I was telling you every which way that I was interested in you.”

  “Except for telling me straight out,” I interjected. “Of course not.” She shook her head. “Too scared.”

  I laughed. We’d both been too scared.

  Now we looked at each
other, awkwardly dropping our eyes, uncertain what to do next.

  I raised a hand as if to reach out to her, and I was surprised to see her almost flinch. She seemed more nervous than ever.

  I studied her features, confused and uncertain. Then a thought occurred to me.

  “Annie, have you ever been with a woman?”

  She blanched again before looking me in the eye. “Yes, I have.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Exactly one.” She paused before grinning mischievously. “Why? Do I look like a rookie?”

  My laughter was full and honest.

  “Actually, yeah. I don’t know many lesbians who look like you.”

  She frowned. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  “Probably,” I admitted.

  “Not to mention that you’re stereotyping,” she reprimanded me, lifting a finger and waving it in my direction.

  I just laughed. Then our eyes caught and held, and the laughter was replaced with the thick tension.

  “So what are we going to do about this?” she asked.

  I contemplated her for several moments, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and pull her close. But something told me that would be the wrong approach.

  “Would you like to go out on a date?” My eyebrows rose hopefully.

  “I thought that’s what we’ve been doing.” The sound of her laughter sent a little shiver down my chest. I could hardly believe that we’d gotten this far.

  “It kind of feels that way, doesn’t it?”

  She wrinkled her nose and agreed with me.

  “How about we make a real date? For Friday,” I suggested.

  She was shaking her head. “No good. I’ve got to come over here every night to see how the workmen are doing, and the tension would be nearly unbearable.” She was clearly joking now, confident.

  “Okay,” I stammered while my mind searched for a quick and witty solution. But I came up with nothing. Shrugging my shoulders, I lifted both hands in the air, palms upward. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  Her brows pulled together and she frowned briefly before lifting her eyes back to mine. They were almost sultry.