Читать книгу To Love Again - Bonnie K. Winn - Страница 10

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Manning, but I’m afraid there’s little you can do, other than bring an action against the trust.” Tom Baldwin, the lawyer Laura had contacted, looked at her kindly, his sympathetic tone releasing the tears that lurked close to the surface.

“Sue my own children?” Laura reached for a tissue. “That’s not an option.”

“Perhaps the executor will be open to your plans.”

Laura grasped her purse, needing to cling to something, anything. The world had turned on end since the reading of the will and she wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Most of their acquaintances assumed Jerry’s death would have affected her this way. But they didn’t know him like she did. To them he was the engaging charmer, the great, outgoing guy who’d been a football star in high school and college. And she’d been the shy loner he’d chosen to marry. Few had understood the match, but plenty of girls had envied her. Because Jerry was “the man.”

Jerry’s only stroke of bad luck was colon cancer, undetected until it was too late. But he had enough time to dictate the terms of his will. Six weeks from diagnosis to death.

She had wondered if the diagnosis would change him, but not even a death sentence could reverse whatever propelled his meanness. For her, his death couldn’t negate fourteen years of emotional abuse, of being worn down, of always being afraid that his temper would blow. And he’d seen to it that she had to ask Paul, a virtual stranger, permission for nearly everything.

“Mrs. Manning?” Baldwin’s quiet voice prodded her.

“I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes. “I have no idea how the executor will feel.”

Baldwin frowned. “Really? Wasn’t he your husband’s partner?”

“Yes. But I only met him a few times.”

“How extraordinary.”

“Not if you had known Jerry. He didn’t include me in anything related to the business. All I really know about Paul is that he was Jerry’s college friend and that he lives in a small town in the hill country.”

And two days earlier, as soon as the will had been read, Paul had left, telling her to talk to Jerry’s lawyer about her concerns. He’d mentioned something about a sick sister and apologized to the Mannings for his abrupt departure.

“You and Jerry didn’t go to college together?”

“No, I’m four years younger. I met him when I was a high school senior.” She’d been too young and gullible, anxious to get away from her equally abusive parents. Trapped in the cycle of demoralizing emotional abuse. Why her? “Anyway, Jerry and Paul go way back.”

“But you had no idea that Jerry had given him such extensive control?”

“No.” She stared at the framed law degrees on the wall, not reading them. “He told me he’d had a new will drawn up because of the complexities of the business.”

Baldwin peered at the thick sheaf of papers. “He’s left Russell in charge of everything from determining the amount of your allowance to where your children can attend school.”

She leaned forward, her knees pressing the desk. “Can I fight that?”

“Yes. But I warn you, it will be expensive.”

And where would she get the money?

“Surely half the house is mine because of community property?”

Baldwin nodded. “Yes. But unless you can buy out your children’s half, you can’t sell it. Any of the assets you wish to claim, remember, will necessitate litigation. And again, that will be expensive.”

Her throat closed. For fourteen years Jerry had bullied her, had killed almost everything that she was. And he was still doing it from the grave.

Tom Baldwin wasn’t an unfeeling man. “Talk to Paul Russell,” he urged. “Surely he’ll see that this document was drawn up in haste, by a man who wasn’t seeing clearly. Death makes people do crazy things.”

Not in this case. This move was one hundred percent pure Jerry.

Rosewood, Texas

Paul jogged the remaining three blocks of his run, slowing as he came to Main Street. He turned at Borbey House, inhaling the smell of pies baking in Annie Warren’s kitchen. He groaned. The Sorenson bakery was in the next block. They were probably baking cinnamon buns. It was what he deserved for putting his office right smack in the middle of them both.

His cell phone rang. Since it was still early, he considered ignoring it as he decided between pie and pastry, but by habit he flipped open the phone, slowing to a walk.

“Russell.”

It took him a few moments to realize who was calling and why. As he did, his mood soured. “Laura, slow down. It’s clear to me from Jerry’s will that he didn’t act in haste, that he knew exactly what he wanted.”

Her voice was plaintive. “What about what I want for my children?”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but my friend chose me to be his executor and I have to act on his behalf.” My friend who’s now gone. Leaving a gaping hole in both the business and what had been an eighteen-year friendship. Jerry had been like an older brother, first taking him under his wing at the University of Texas.

Jerry hadn’t treated him like the small town hick some others had, instead drawing him into his group of friends. Grateful, Paul had been eager to go into partnership with him after graduation. It seemed hard to believe he had been such a vital, strong man only a short time ago.

“What about the company?” she was asking.

He stopped walking, bending at the waist to stretch. “What about it?”

“Jerry was your partner. I’m prepared to take his place.”

“Excuse me?” Paul was glad she couldn’t see his face.

“I said I’m prepared to take his place.”

“You want to work in the firm?” He wiped the sweat from his neck.

“Yes.”

Paul stretched his right leg. “I don’t remember Jerry ever talking about you helping with the deals.”

“Well…I didn’t exactly. That doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”

“And who’s supposed to teach you?”

“You. I know I don’t have my agent’s license yet, but I can take classes toward that. It’s the investment part of the business I need to learn and there’s not a school for that.”

“You want me to teach you?” He switched legs, stretching the left. “That’s not a good idea.”

“But—”

“I’m sure you mean well, but it would be more helpful to all concerned if you concentrate on raising your kids.” He started walking, anxious to end the call. Jerry hadn’t said anything, but Paul suspected his friend must have had reason to worry about Laura to have left him as executor instead of his wife. He had promised Jerry he would watch out for the children. Jerry hadn’t asked the same for Laura.

“That’s not what I want.”

“And Jerry didn’t want to die young, but we don’t all get what we want.” He exhaled, trying not to be harsh with her. “Sorry to rush, but I’m on my way to the office. Bye.” Not waiting for a reply, he clicked off. His appetite ruined, he jogged the rest of the way to his office, waving to Ethan Warren who was climbing into his car, no doubt on his way to the school.

The phone was ringing as Paul entered. Turning on the lights, he crossed to the desk that faced the entrance. Breathless, he grabbed the phone. “Distinctive Properties.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

It was her.

“Paul, like it or not, we’re stuck with each other because of Jerry’s will. I want to work in the company. It was half Jerry’s, so why shouldn’t I?”

Paul glanced around his small office, imagining sharing any part of it. Since he contracted out the majority of his work, he’d never needed a large space for employees. And he’d always been partial to the Victorian building. He kept the furnishings spare—one extra desk, two chairs, a few lamps. He considered it more important for the office to fit his work instead of making it a showplace. “Your allowance is reasonable. You don’t need to work. A lot of women would be happy not to leave their kids to go to a job.”

“I want…I…” Her voice trailed off.

Listening, he heard muffled sounds. “Mrs. Manning? Laura? Are you there?”

It took a moment. “Yes.”

“You don’t even know what you’re asking to get into. This is a tough industry. Flipping property is even worse than selling homes—you know, traditional real estate. Buying investment houses, then renovating on a tight schedule and reselling them to make a quick profit is like chasing sharks. It only sounds like fun.” She didn’t laugh. That didn’t surprise him. He had never heard her laugh, she had looked unhappy every time he’d ever seen her. “It’s stressful and risky, you have to know what you’re doing all the time. If you mess up, you not only lose your own shirt, but your investors’, as well. It’s not the place for the weakhearted. I know you’ve had a lot to take in lately.” He eased into his well-used wooden chair and put his feet up on the scarred desk. “Maybe I was too abrupt with you earlier. But, this isn’t something you want to do. Trust me. You’re going to have your hands full with the kids, keeping up with your house.”

“You don’t understand—”

“What’s to understand? Jerry just died. You’re confused.”

“I’m not confused.”

Paul rubbed his eyes. “Laura, maybe you can talk to a therapist or—”

“I don’t need a therapist.”

His other line rang. “I’m sorry but I have to take another call.”

He had always understood the initial attraction Jerry must have felt for her. Tall, slim, glossy dark hair, haunting green eyes. But she always acted downtrodden. He likened her to a whipped dog. And he never could figure out why. Jerry was a great guy and treated her like a queen. But then some women, like his ex-fiancée, only thought about money. Maybe Jerry’s beautiful home wasn’t as big as she wanted. Maybe she wanted one in the exclusive River Oaks area of town where the millionaires lived.

And personality wasn’t the only thing she lacked. Her husband had just died and she hadn’t expressed a shred of grief.

Laura stumbled outside, needing the open air. Even the muggy air the recent rain had rendered. When Paul Russell had pushed, she hadn’t been able to summon the courage to push back, to find the words to explain how much she needed her freedom. She couldn’t bear to be under Jerry’s thumb another moment.

How was she going to convince him to let her learn the trade? Clearly not over the phone. She would have to talk to him in person, argue her case.

“Mom?” Kirsten sounded annoyed as she came outside to join her on the deck.

“I’m here.”

“It’s like a zillion degrees out here and the humidity’s killing my hair,” Kirsten complained.

“Did you need something?”

Kirsten frowned. “I’m going to stay at Nana’s for the weekend.”

No asking permission, not even the consideration that she might need to. This had to stop. Laura had tried so hard to keep Jerry’s abuse hidden from the children that she had become a doormat in her daughter’s eyes. And it was becoming more blatant since Jerry’s death.

“I don’t think so, Kirsten.”

Her daughter stomped her foot and Laura noticed she was wearing a new pair of shoes, another present from her grandmother. “But Nana said we were going shopping!”

“You didn’t ask me for permission.”

Kirsten scowled, her pert features so much like her father’s. “What’s the big deal?”

Maybe it had been a mistake to try to keep Jerry’s image untarnished, to keep their arguing secret. “I’m your mother, Kirsten. Without my permission, you don’t go anywhere. And that includes your grandparents’.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Those are the rules. You wouldn’t have thought you could go without permission when your father was alive.”

Kirsten was definitely her daddy’s girl. She shook the blond hair—exactly like his—blue duplicates of her father’s eyes now furious. “Daddy would have said yes!”

“Maybe. And maybe you’ll think twice next time about announcing you’ve got plans, instead of asking for permission.”

“Nana’s right. We should come live with her.”

Laura stared at her. “What?”

“Nana says you won’t be able to manage and we should come live with her. I think she’s right. And Gregg will think she’s right, too, when I tell him.”

Fear unsettled her. Up until now, Gregg hadn’t acted like his older sister. But if Kirsten tried to influence him… And Meredith…if she was campaigning to take the children away…

Laura had to do something. Living only two blocks away from her in-laws, it would be easy for Kirsten to visit them as often as she wished. Yet moving was nearly impossible. She couldn’t sell the house. And if she leased it out…she didn’t want to move her children into an area that wasn’t safe just to find lower rent. And that was the only way she could imagine finding the funds to go back to school herself. Unless…

Unless she learned the basics of flipping houses from Paul Russell. She hadn’t been able to find her courage in years, but now…now she had to.

Laura fretted and agonized for days. If she stayed in Houston, her life would be out of her control as it had been during her marriage. But, if she could convince Paul Russell…She knew she didn’t have any practical experience to bring to the table, but…She moved away from the window, her steps hesitant, and reached for the phone.

She dialed Donna’s number. They’d been friends since the third grade, and Donna was the only person she had confided in throughout her marriage. Donna answered on the third ring.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“I was checking out what’s left in my fridge. Pretty pathetic.”

Laura frowned. Donna was a software engineer and she worked out of her home office. “You must be busy.”

“Just finished a deadline.”

“Oh.” Laura hesitated. Donna was always rushed after a deadline, playing catch up.

“What’s going on?”

Laura explained.

“I can take the kids to school, pick them up,” Donna offered. “And I’ll stay until you get home.”

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience?”

“I’ll bring my laptop, start on my new project. Besides, you probably have food in your fridge.”

Laura let out a breath. “What would I do without you?”

Donna laughed. “Let’s not find out. And stop worrying. Things will work out.”

Early the following morning, before traffic could clog the roads, Laura set out for Rosewood. Although both freeways heading west out of the city were always packed, Laura’s predawn head start helped.

It was nearly ten o’clock when she arrived. She hadn’t known what to expect, but the charm of the perfectly kept Victorian buildings surprised her. Equally old elm trees shaded the wide sidewalks. No boarded-up buildings on Main Street. Looked like the town was alive and kicking. She spotted an old-fashioned drugstore that made her think of the one her grandmother used to take her to for ice-cream sodas when she was a little girl. It was one of the few positive memories from her childhood.

Intrigued, Laura slowed down, savoring a place that hadn’t been edged out by a superstore or run down by neglect. She spotted cheery gingham curtains in the café windows and smiled. She needed cheer more than breakfast, which she had skipped in her hurry to get an early start, but she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to catch Paul early.

She found his office easily enough. The simple brass plaque above the wide black awning announced Distinctive Properties, Ltd.

Grasping the brass door handle, she tried to take hold of her courage as easily. She stepped inside. Paul sat at an old mahogany desk facing the entrance. A second, similar desk was angled next to his, but it was empty. The office was small, with some leather chairs, filing cabinets, coffeemaker and not much else. There was another door at the rear.

Looking back at Paul, she remembered to smile. But her courage failed her when he scowled.

Then she realized he was on the phone. Two actually. At least he was holding two. One was a cell. It rang as she watched.

Deftly he put the first call on hold, answered the second, then switched back to the first. A moment later he finally noticed her.

Her first impression hadn’t been that far off. He looked annoyed as he ended both calls.

“Good morning.” She tried to sound confident, but her voice came out sounding more like a frightened bird.

“Hello,” he said cautiously. “This is a surprise.”

“I suppose it is.” Courage. Keep your courage. “I came to talk to you about the company.”

“We already talked about it.”

“No.” She bit her lip. “You brushed me off.”

His phone rang. “You want to talk now?”

“Yes, please.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse time. I’m speaking to investors.”

Her anxiety heightened. “In an hour then?”

“It’s Monday morning. I’m calling my most important contacts.” He scrunched his mouth in contemplation. “I could hook up with you, say, late this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?”

He reached for the phone. “If you really want to talk. If not—”

“No! I mean yes. I want to talk.” She calculated quickly. Donna said she would stay as long as necessary. “So, this afternoon?”

“Okay.”

Laura picked up a card from his desk and scribbled her cell phone number on it. “Call me when you’re free?”

“Fine.” His phone rang again.

Awkwardly, she stepped back. “I’ll see myself out then.”

He was already absorbed in the phone conversation.

Out on the sidewalk, she breathed in the clean spring air, the smell of baking bread laced with blooming hyacinths. Unexpectedly, her stomach rumbled. In spite of nerves.

She glanced down the street. A sign in the next block caught her eye. Borbey House Bed and Breakfast. She didn’t know just how long Paul Russell planned to put her off, but she intended to stick around until he spoke to her, even if that meant staying until the following day. It might be smart to book a room, just in case. Besides, she was tired. It had taken everything she had to screw up her courage for this visit. She hated this weakness in herself. Before she had married, she wouldn’t have been so intimidated, so frightened. This was just a negotiation. With Jerry’s best friend. Why couldn’t Jerry have let her go? She hadn’t wanted him to get sick, to die…. But she had thought at last she would be out from under his control.

She pulled out her cell phone.

Donna answered on the second ring, and Laura explained the situation.

“Stay as long as you need. My work’s coming along fine. You know I love borrowing other people’s children.”

Laura hesitated, unaccustomed to asking favors. “It could be longer than just overnight.”

“Stay as long as you need.”

Laura clutched the phone. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Laura felt a little better as she walked the short distance to Borbey House. A bell tinkled when she pushed open the door to the bed-and-breakfast and stepped into an immaculate front room, furnished with inviting antique couches.

“Be right there,” a woman called.

Laura waited by an ancient breakfront that looked like the sign-in desk. Within moments, a perky, attractive woman who looked to be about her age, scooted into the room. “Hi!” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Just finishing up in the kitchen. How can I help you?”

“I’m hoping you have a room for tonight. Well, maybe longer. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be here.” The way she felt right now she could climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.

“I have one that fronts on Main Street if you like the view or one that looks out on the back garden if you’d prefer complete quiet. You can see both, if you’d like, and then choose.” Dark eyes twinkled as the woman pushed her brown hair behind her ear.

“That’s a tough call, but I think I’ll take the quiet.” She needed it to recoup.

“Fine. If you change your mind, just let me know. It’s no trouble switching you around.” Laura signed the guest book, a simple register, her writing shaky. “I’m Annie Warren and this is my place, mine and my husband’s.”

“Glad to meet you.” She reached for her purse, fumbling with her wallet. “You’ll need my credit card.”

Annie waved her hands. “Not necessary. We can do that when you check out.”

Laura stared, amazed.

Annie laughed. “I doubt you want to get up at four in the morning to skip out. Besides, a little trust goes a long way.”

“That’s a kind, if somewhat precarious, way to live in this world.”

“It works for me.”

Laura’s anxiety eased somewhat.

“Have you had your breakfast?” Annie put her hands on her narrow hips.

“Actually no. But if it’s too late—”

“Nope. I was just getting around to mine. Would you like to join me?”

Laura was touched by the offer. “I’d love to.”

“The dining room’s still set for breakfast. I haven’t cleared the buffet. The warmers are on under the bacon and sausage, the eggs, too. The griddle’s hot and I was about to make pancakes. Or whatever you like.”

“I adore pancakes. I didn’t expect such bounty.” Laura wandered over to the antique buffet. Jams—she’d guess homemade—in crystal dishes begged to be spread on the plump rolls. And there was a basket of sticky buns as well. She felt as though she’d stepped back into another time when people lingered over breakfast.

“I just made some fresh coffee.” Annie indicated from the stove. “And there’s orange juice on the buffet.”

“Let me,” Laura offered. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Thanks.” Annie pointed. “Just a little cream.”

Laura poured them each a coffee. Retrieving the pitcher of orange juice, she carried it to the only table with place settings.

Annie followed shortly with a platter of fluffy pancakes. “This time of year we get a lot of tourists because of the wildflowers, but it’s still mostly weekends right now.”

“I’m not here for flowers.” She stopped. She didn’t intend to tell this stranger anything about why she was here. Annie just smiled.

“Rosewood’s a good place to be.”

“Oh?”

“People are welcoming here.”

Laura reached for the syrup. “I’m just here for a visit.”

“It’s a fine place to visit, too.”

“Is the real estate market doing well here?”

Annie poured some cream into her mug. “I don’t really know. But you could check with Paul Russell down the street.”

Laura choked on her bite of pancake.

As she coughed, Annie patted her on the back and handed her a glass of water. “Sip slowly. The maple syrup is strong. I should have warned you.”

Once she caught her breath, Laura said. “No, it’s lovely, really.” She sipped more water, took some time wiping her mouth with the cotton napkin. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Paul? Yes. He’s a member of my church.”

“Church?” Laura didn’t mean to spit the word, but Jerry hadn’t included church in their plans. He’d been too busy with barbecues, boating and golf. And between the disillusion with her marriage and the control Jerry held over her, she had drifted far from the days when her grandmother had taken her to church.

Annie must have sensed her discomfort. “How about some orange juice?”

“Thank you.”

Annie poured her a glass. “So, are you here to check out the real estate market?”

“In a way,” Laura hedged. She had been hiding the truth about her abusive marriage for so long it was second nature to keep everything quiet.

“I have a friend, Emma McAllister, whose husband is a contractor. He’s working on a house not far from here. He just built a new home for the owner.” She put the pitcher down. “And they don’t want to sell this one because they want to keep it in the family. Seth’s fixing it up to rent it. If you want to look inside, he’s probably around.”

“Oh, I don’t know….”

“I hope I’m not being pushy. It’s become a habit since I started running the bed-and-breakfast. That, and because I was single so long and rattled around the house alone I tend to treat my guests as friends.” Annie grinned. “Sorry, there I go. But the house really is great—if you want to get an idea of the market here.”

“I could take down the directions, I suppose.” She did have hours to kill and maybe she would show Paul she had initiative and could learn quickly.

“If Seth’s not there, check the back door. It might be unlocked,” Annie said, getting up to find a pen and paper.

“Really? The house is left open?”

“This is Rosewood. We don’t have any crime to speak of.”

But leave an empty house unlocked? Laura couldn’t imagine such a thing. She had lived in the city so long, in the right area, the one Jerry had chosen. Still, security systems were a fact of life.

Intrigued, after breakfast Laura followed the directions Annie had given her. She found the address easily. And sighed as she stared at the two-story folk Victorian, falling immediately in love with the front gable and side wings, corbels, the gothic details, the welcoming porch. The rosebushes that appeared to be as old as the house itself.

A man was sweeping up on the driveway.

“Hi. Are you Seth?”

“No. The boss isn’t here.”

“Oh. I heard I might be able to take a quick look inside.”

He paused, holding the broom still. “Sure. The owners are planning to put it up for rent. I imagine they want people to look at it. The front door’s unlocked.”

“Thanks.” She entered the foyer, then stepped into a large living room with high ceilings and a beautiful fireplace with an intricately carved mantel. Plaster walls, original woodwork, tall arched windows that allowed the light to stream in. It was amazing. The rest of the rooms were just as great. She wasn’t in real estate yet, but this place would have to rent for a small fortune. Well, some lucky family would be happy here.

She checked her watch. Even dawdling, she still had way too much time to kill. She thought about going back to the bed-and-breakfast for a nap, but she didn’t want to wake up disoriented for the meeting. So she decided to check out the town.

The entire place was a step back in time. She wandered around Whitaker Woods, a store full of handmade furniture, each piece a one-of-a-kind design. She peeked into the windows of the costume shop, Try It On, intrigued by the unique designs she hadn’t expected to find in such a small town.

Her phone rang. “Hello.”

“Laura? Paul Russell. I can’t squeeze in a meeting after all.” He sounded tense.

“Oh.” She looked down the street at Distinctive Properties. It was within walking distance.

Before she lost her courage, she headed for his office. “I only need a minute.”

“Another time.”

Paul was still on the phone when she pushed open the door. She took the chair angled in front of his desk.

“I told you I didn’t have time to meet,” he said after he hung up.

“That’s why I came to you.” She gripped her purse.

He frowned. “You just show up here, after I told you I’m too busy?”

Every nerve she possessed crowded into her throat. “We need to talk.”

“I told you. Flipping property isn’t easy. You have to be able to hold steady when you’ve bought a property, poured a ton of renovation money into it. Navigating between investors and sellers…It takes commitment, guts.” He held up his hands as though to say he knew she didn’t have either.

“I have both,” she lied. If she’d had any real courage, she would have left Jerry years ago. But she couldn’t tell Paul that.

“And it takes expertise.”

Laura leaned forward. “Which you can teach me.”

“I’ve already told you—”

“Please don’t reject this out of hand.” Laura bit her lip, wondering how much of the truth she should tell him, guessing he wouldn’t believe much. “I know you think you owe it to Jerry to run the firm as you see fit, but don’t you owe it to him to listen to me, as well? To consider what I can offer? Half the profits will benefit his children.”

She wasn’t convincing him. She could see that.

“You’re forgetting a pretty important technicality.”

She blinked in confusion.

“Even if I agreed to teach you, you live in Houston.”

“But you and Jerry made that work.”

“Because Jerry knew what he was doing. He acquired properties in the Houston area, supervised those renovations. I locate the investors, make sure the money’s in place. And I buy homes in this area for flipping, as well. I can’t teach you how to find and then buy the right properties, not from here.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. Her grip on the purse tightened. Not from here. Unless she did something more drastic than she had planned. Fortunately, she’d had an idea.