Читать книгу Her Montana Cowboy - Jeannie Watt - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

WHEN WAS THE last time he’d been at a loss for words? Pub keepers had to have their wits about them and he was kind of known for snappy comebacks. But not today. He felt like a tongue-tied junior high kid as he escaped the overly small bathroom.

Thad was in the mudroom putting on his coat.

“Going somewhere?”

“Sal’s place.” Thad jerked his head toward the hallway. “Is Lillie Jean okay?”

“Seems to be doing all right. She’s tougher than she looks.” He half muttered the second part, coming to terms with the fact that maybe Lillie Jean was a fish out of water, and maybe she resembled a Disney princess in some regards, but that didn’t mean she was overly delicate.

Thad shot him an accusing look as they went out the door. “I told you to buy me some time, not bring her home all bloody.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah. I know. But I want to keep on her good side.”

“She is who she says she is?”

“Appears so. I had a long talk with the lawyer kid, who said the will was straightforward. The deed automatically transferred to Lillie Jean at Lyle’s death. There’s just a little paperwork to clear up.”

Gus rolled his eyes at the word kid. To Thad, anyone under the age of forty was a kid, even if he was a lawyer or a bull rider or whatever. “Why weren’t you notified of your partner’s death?”

“They’re behind. They just moved offices and his father retired.” Thad’s mouth twisted. “I gave him a little guff, but, bottom line, Lillie Jean is who she says she is.”

Even though he’d expected something along those lines, Gus felt his stomach twist. His carefully planned future was now null and void.

“I stored some papers in Sal’s house. I want to take a look at them.” Thad gestured toward the manager’s house with his gray head. “You may as well come.”

He may as well. They crossed the short distance to the house without speaking. Thad pushed the stubborn door open and it scraped its way across the worn carpet. The interior of the house felt colder than the outside air, even though Gus knew the furnace was set to come on at fifty degrees and thus keep the pipes from freezing.

Sal had left some time ago, and a layer of dust had settled over the carpet and the few pieces of furniture the former manager had left behind. Furniture that had probably been in the house when he’d first moved in twenty-five years ago.

Thad went to the hall and pulled the cord that lowered the attic steps. The attic was cramped, so Gus waited near the kitchen door while Thad thumped around upstairs, then came back down carrying a metal box.

Gus asked the obvious question once Thad placed the strongbox on the wobbly kitchen table. “Why do you keep things here?” It wasn’t like there wasn’t a lot of room in the main house. It, too, was sparsely furnished.

“I burned most of it. Didn’t want the rest anywhere near me.”

Thad pulled a key out of his pocket, turned the lock and opened the lid. There wasn’t much inside—a couple of envelopes, a small box and a set of keys. Safe-deposit box keys. Thad pulled out an envelope, spread the yellowed paper it contained on the table. It was a handwritten agreement, signed by Thad and his partner.

“The official agreement is exactly the same.”

“You’re sure?”

“Called Ned.” His current lawyer, who happened to be his original lawyer’s son. Another lawyer kid. “He found a copy of the agreement and answered some questions for me. It’s something called Tenant in Common. I kind of remember Ned’s dad talking us into it, saying that this way, we were both protected. Neither of us could force the other to sell. We could just sell our interest to someone else.”

“Is it transferable?”

“This one is.” Thad gave a rueful cough. “You see, Nita and I were thinking about kids and we wanted to protect their interests, too.”