Читать книгу Fool Me Once - Fern Michaels - Страница 10

It was almost like old times, Olivia thought, as she and her father cleaned up the kitchen. Even though they had a dishwasher, Dennis washed the dishes, and Olivia dried them. It was something physical to do other than sit across from each other in the great room—Olivia with accusing eyes, Dennis’s filled with guilt and shame.

Dennis squeezed the yellow sponge until it condensed into a tight little ball in his hand. His voice was low, little short of a whisper. “I can’t change anything, Ollie. If you want the truth, if I had to do it all over again, I’d do it the same way.

“Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve had over this? Thousands. I don’t think I had a good night’s sleep until the day of your eighteenth birthday. I always had this fear that Allison would show up and whisk you away. As hard as I tried, I could never convince myself otherwise. Now, to see that Allison took an interest in you when you turned sixteen…Well, that more or less confirms that my fears were justified.”

Olivia snapped the dish towel against the dishwasher before she straightened it out and hung it up. “C’mon, Dad, lighten up. In time, I’ll get over it. It just came out of the blue, and I wasn’t expecting it. Never in a million years. You have to let me blame you for a little while till I get it out of my system. Right now I think we need to talk about how I can make this all go away. I don’t want anything from her. We have to figure out a way to give it all back. I refuse to accept it.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Ollie. The will has to go to probate. There are inheritance taxes, all kinds of legal issues that have to be resolved. If Allison was as wealthy as it appears, I’m sure she had a battery of attorneys who have everything in place. Then there’s the estate planning…just so many things. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the lawyer’s office. In the meantime, we can talk it to death, or we can sit on the couch with the dogs and watch television. I have to warn you, though, I’ll probably fall asleep within five minutes.”

“Go to bed, Dad. I’m fine. I’m going to go out to the studio and do some paperwork. Don’t forget to call Lea. You said you were going to do it before dinner but forgot.”

Dennis grinned. “Yes, Moth—Damn, I’m sorry, Ollie.”

“It’s not a problem, Dad.”

“Honey, are you sure you don’t mind if I go to bed? I promise to get up early and make us breakfast. Eggs Benedict if you have all the ingredients.”

Olivia stood on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek. “I have everything.”

Dennis hugged her. Tightly, as though he’d never let her go. To Olivia, the hug didn’t feel as comforting as past ones had.

With a heavy heart, Olivia scooped both little dogs up in her arms and carried them into the great room. She’d made up that little story about going to the studio so her father would go to bed. Together, she and the dogs settled themselves on the deep, comfortable sofa to watch an inane television show about people on an island eating bugs to survive.

The house was cloaked in silence as Olivia slumped into the corner of the sofa. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Within minutes, she joined the two dogs in slumber, tears drying on her cheeks.

Dennis Lowell was as good as his word. When Olivia woke, she could smell fresh coffee and other tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen. The dogs leaped off the sofa to race to the door. Today, though, there was a difference. Dennis had shoveled a path across the patio for the dogs. The new snowfall amounted to little more than a few inches. The sound of work crews and snowplows could be heard as they lumbered down the main and side roads. By midmorning, traffic would be back to normal.

“Good morning, Ollie. How did you sleep?” Dennis asked warily.

“Fairly well, Dad. Listen, are we always going to have this…this uneasiness between us?”

Dennis thought about the question for a minute, his brow puckered in concentration. “I think that pretty much depends on you, honey. I can’t turn the clock back. What’s done is done. I can keep saying I’m sorry from now till the end of time, and it isn’t going to mean anything until you are ready to accept the situation and forgive me in your heart of hearts. I would be lying if I said I know what you’re feeling. I don’t know, but I can imagine. You feel I deprived you of a mother, and I know, Ollie, how special mothers are. Allison just wasn’t the kind of person who…who would have made a good mother. You’ll never know that, though, and you only have my word for it.”

Olivia stared at her father. “I know, Dad. I’m not stupid. I was devastated yesterday until you told me your side of things, but now I understand more.” Looking at the breakfast her dad had prepared, she said, “Just give me a minute. I want to brush my teeth. Everything looks good, and it smells even better.”

“I aim to please,” Dennis said lightly.

Olivia was back in the kitchen in five minutes. She sat down and shook out her napkin. Her father had always been big on cloth napkins, the kind that would wrinkle and have to be ironed. Her father had always set a good table. He was also big on manners. She’d learned just about everything she needed to know about life from her father. She owed everything to her father. Not to the woman who gave birth to her.

“How did you sleep, Dad?”

“Soundly for a few hours. I woke up around three and couldn’t get back to sleep. Do you have any clients today?”

“Three unless they cancel. If the roads are clear, I imagine they’ll show up. Why?”

Dennis placed a plate in front of Olivia before he carried his own to the table. “I think it might be a good idea to cancel today’s schedule so we can go to see Mr. O’Brien and get this over with. I have to leave by the weekend because I have a big paying charter for Monday. I want to see and hear for myself what you’re up against. For some reason I don’t see this as a simple inheritance. I say this because I know Allison.” He corrected himself. “Knew Allison. By the way, when did you get another dog?”

Olivia explained Cecil’s story. “He loves Alice. She’s going to miss him when he leaves. I think he’s going to be one unhappy little dog. I wish I could keep him. He’s a real cutie and has a mind of his own. And he’s smart.”

“Why don’t you offer to keep him? I don’t see his handler minding too much. Just don’t ask for money. He might be willing to give up the responsibility. Not the money, though. On the other hand, you might have to go through the lawyers who represented Cecil’s owner. Do you want me to kidnap him?” he joked.

Olivia’s head snapped up. “I know you’re joking, but don’t kid yourself, I already thought about it. I have to call Jeff today. He’s Cecil’s handler. I don’t know if he lives in Mrs. Manning’s house or if he just carts the dog to the vet and groomer. I’m not sure what he does. He didn’t balk at paying me fifty bucks an hour to dog-sit Cecil. I’m not going to take the money. I just said that to him to make him aware of his responsibility. It didn’t faze him in the least. Cecil is going to die of loneliness when he has to go back.”

“I can take him and Alice with me when I leave on the weekend. I’m up for a little dognapping. It’s your call, Ollie.”

Olivia’s eyes almost bugged out of her head when she realized her father was serious. “Dad, Cecil is the richest dog in America. He’s news. They’d probably call in the FBI.”

“How about this? We get another dog that looks just like him and pass the new dog off as Cecil. I take both dogs with me, and no one will be the wiser. When we get back from the lawyer’s office, we can check the Yorkie Rescue, the pound, and all the pet shops. I bet it would work. The best part is you’ll be giving a rescue dog a good home, and Cecil won’t care one little bit. Then when the smoke clears, you can come to the islands and pick them up. Alice knows Lea, so she won’t be homesick. Cecil, I’m thinking, will adapt as long as he’s with Alice. Lea loves animals.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Then we deal with it at that time. Why don’t you call the handler now and see what he says about your offering to keep Cecil for a few more days.”

Olivia looked down at the two dogs sleeping at her feet. They were curled up side by side. She rose from the chair. “I can’t believe I’m willing to do this. Damn, I can’t believe I’m even thinking about doing it.”

“We make a good team, Ollie. You know what I always say, it’s just you and me, kid.”

Yeah, Dad, that’s what you always said.

Olivia looked up at the small calendar taped to the wall above the kitchen phone. She ran her finger down the long column of numbers she’d penciled in on the side. She punched out Jeff’s number and waited. When he answered, he sounded like he’d been running, or else he was just one of those people who was always harried. “This is Olivia Lowell, Jeff. I was wondering if you would mind if I kept Cecil for another day or so. I’d like to get some action shots of him out in the snow. You know, showing him at play with my dog. People love to see dogs playing. Cecil is such an interesting dog, and he’s so very rich. People want to know he isn’t being treated…you know…differently. By the way, I was just jerking your chain when I said I was going to charge you fifty bucks an hour. What do you say, Jeff?”

“I think that would be okay. So when do you want me to pick him up? I hate to say this, but that dog is controlling my life.”

“He just needs a playmate. Why don’t you get him a companion? I bet those trustees would applaud you for being so conscientious.”

“Do you think so? A companion, huh?”

“I could get you one, if you think it will be okay. I know someone who has Yorkies,” Olivia lied through her teeth.

Suddenly, old Jeff wasn’t sounding so harried. He was sounding relieved and happy. “I’ll call you back later this afternoon. I’m sure it will be all right, but I do have to run it by the trustees. So what you’re saying is, I should pick him and his companion up on Monday.”

Olivia sighed and held up her thumb for her father’s inspection. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. It will free you up for the weekend, and I don’t really mind watching the little guy.”

“Okay, Olivia, I’ll be there sometime Monday afternoon.”

Olivia burst out laughing when she hung up the phone. “Hey, Cecil, you are no longer rich and famous.” Cecil opened one eye, then closed it.

“I’ll call the airlines and make arrangements for the dogs. Do you have carriers?”

A huge smile stretched across Olivia’s face. “Dad, I have everything but the replacement dogs.” Sobering, she added, “I sure hope we don’t get caught. This is serious stuff.”

“I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you? Some people don’t realize dogs have feelings. They suffer separation anxiety. They miss the people who care for them when they’re taken away. Their personalities change. Cecil already went through one trauma when Mrs. Manning died. He’s attached himself to Alice and you. What do you think would happen if he had to go back to that lonely house without Alice? Is it worth the risk? Ask yourself if Mrs. Manning would approve.”

“The end justifies the means, huh? You know what, Dad? She would approve. She loved that little dog. As long as he’s happy, warm, and well fed, I don’t think she’d have a problem with what we plan to do.”

“Good. Then it’s a go. I’ll clean up here, Ollie. Go take your shower.”

As Olivia stood under the steaming spray she wondered what was happening to her. One day she was the heiress of a criminal and the next day she was a criminal herself—almost. She wondered what it would be like in jail. The eggs Benedict in her stomach started to protest at the thought. Just think about the good life you’re going to give Cecil and the two new dogs. Assuming you can find two new dogs, she cautioned herself.

Not wanting to dwell on criminal activities, Olivia hopped out of the shower. She dressed quickly, applied makeup, and blow-dried her hair. She didn’t, as she put it, “dude up” for Mr. O’Brien. She was wearing camel-colored wool slacks, rubber-soled boots, and a cherry-red sweater. Her unruly hair was gathered into a loose bun and fixed in place by tortoise-shell combs.

Dennis Lowell was brewing a fresh pot of coffee when Olivia walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in the winter clothes he’d left behind before leaving for the islands with Lea. He looked distinguished, and he also smelled good. Olivia said so. Her father smiled, but Olivia noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked worried.

“I’m going to call my clients and cancel,” Olivia told him. “I can be ready to leave anytime you’re ready. I’m sure the roads are clear by now. Do you think I should call Mr. O’Brien, or should we just show up?”

“I think we should just show up. Go ahead and make your calls. I’ll take the dogs outside for a little while. Give a shout when you’re ready to leave.”

The law firm of O’Brien, O’Malley and O’Shaughnessy was a small one. But what it lacked in size it more than made up for in elegance. Even the address was an elegant one, on P Street in Georgetown, home to senators, congressmen, and diplomats. The sidewalk had been cleaned professionally, and little pebbles of salt could be seen between the cracks. Aged oak trees, bare now, lined the street on both sides. At first glance the building could have been a private residence. The polished brass plaque, though, was a giveaway as to what the three-story edifice housed.

Like most structures in Georgetown, it was narrow, with a small patch in the back that served as a lawn, and neighboring buildings so close that the inhabitants could have leaned out their windows and touched each other.

A desirable, high-end parcel of real estate.

A buzzer emitted a fuzzy sound as Dennis pushed open the door. Olivia gasped. Everything seemed to be green. Green marble walls, green marble floor so shiny she could see her reflection. A half-moon desk of polished mahogany had a top made from the same green marble. It was as glossy and shiny as the floor under her feet. The only things on the desk were a phone console, a computer, and a huge basket of fresh yellow tulips. Fresh tulips in February, Olivia mused. She stayed where she was as her father walked toward the receptionist and said, “I’m Dennis Lowell, and this is my daughter, Olivia. We’re here to see Mr. O’Brien.”

The receptionist resembled a polished, lacquered mannequin dressed in designer wear. Olivia wondered if she wore a wig. No one’s hair was that perfect except maybe Ted Koppel’s, and everyone knew he wore a rug. Olivia continued to stare at the receptionist as her father carried on a conversation with her. False eyelashes long and curly enough to balance a pencil. Makeup so perfect it looked like it would crack if she smiled. Olivia felt dowdy next to her.

“It seems we’re supposed to have an appointment,” Dennis told Olivia after walking back to where she stood waiting. “That young lady said this establishment is not a storefront, walk-in legal office.”

“Oh,” was all Olivia could think of to say.

“Would you like to leave, honey? He can make the trip to Winchester to see you.”

The mannequin held up a hand with blood-red, inch-long nails. “Mr. O’Brien will see you in five minutes. Please, take a seat.”

Five minutes stretched to ten minutes, then fifteen. When the hands on the clock registered twenty minutes, Olivia got up in a huff and marched to the door, her father behind her.

Dennis was unlocking the car door when a mousy young woman with thick glasses ran up to them. She was breathless and full of apologies as she pleaded with them to follow her back to the office. Dennis shrugged in acquiescence. “I hate lawyers,” Olivia hissed as they followed the young woman back to the law offices.

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

Prentice O’Brien’s offices were just as elegant as the lobby. The deep, comfortable client chairs were rich Corinthian leather; the desk, mahogany. The sofa was covered in a nubby wheat-colored material that blended perfectly with the ankle-deep carpeting and ceiling-to-floor draperies. There was even a real fireplace with a real wood fire. The file cabinets were custom-made and built into the rich paneling. An entertainment center and portable bar graced a far wall. The lawyer’s desk was cluttered, and the man sitting behind it was in his shirtsleeves. He got up and walked around the desk to greet them. He introduced himself, then motioned for them to be seated.

Dennis and Olivia waited for him to speak. He spoke slowly, almost irritably. “If I had known you were coming in this early, I would have carved out a period of time. I’m sorry I had to keep you waiting. We’re going to have to zip through this because I have another appointment in a few minutes.”

Olivia was on her feet in an instant. “You didn’t have an appointment with me yesterday. You just showed up. If it’s all right for you to do that, why isn’t it all right for us to do the same thing? Time is money, is that it? Well, I’ll tell you what, Mr. O’Brien, when you can carve out some time for me, give me a call. If I can fit you into my busy schedule, perhaps we can resolve this. I’m not into billable hours like you are. Personally, Mr. O’Brien, I don’t care if I ever see you again. I want nothing to do with Adrian Ames’s will. Come on, Dad, we’re outta here.”

When the attorney realized they were indeed leaving, he said, “Ms. Lowell, Mr. Lowell, please.” Father and daughter ignored him and kept walking.

“At least take this with you,” the lawyer said, scrambling across the wide expanse of office space with a letter in his hand. He held it out. “Your mother wrote this letter to you, and she instructed me to hand it to you personally.” Olivia made a very unladylike sound and gesture as she continued out of the office. She literally ran through the elegant lobby toward the front door. She didn’t see her father reach for the letter and tuck it into his pocket.

The seventy-six-mile ride back to Winchester was made in silence.