I send a quick text to Finn, and then watch as Mom sets a plate in front of me with a sad smile.
“Do you forget very often?” I ask softly.
“No,” she says, shaking her head, but I’m not sure that’s true. “Don’t worry about me, Finn.”
“Quinn,” I correct her. “I’m Quinn, Mom.”
“Of course.”
Chapter Three
~Sienna~
I love court days. The hustle and bustle energizes me, and I’ve always enjoyed a good argument.
Always.
Just ask Lou.
But today, I’m more than a little nervous. This time is personal, not to mention, Quinn will be sitting across the aisle from me.
No matter how often I tell my libido to shut the hell up, that Quinn is opposing counsel, it doesn’t seem to pay attention. There’s a chemistry there that I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Of course it happens now, with him. Because that’s just my luck when it comes to men. It’s the ones who aren’t good for me, or that I can’t have, that I’m attracted to.
My man picker is broken.
I can’t say that I’ve been to estate court since law school. It’s not my area of expertise, and my boss at the city may not like me taking this case. But I’ve already decided that if we don’t resolve this today, I’ll take a leave of absence until the allegations against my grandfather are proven false, and things can go back to normal.
I’m not letting another attorney near this.
The judge walks into the room, and we all stand. She announces the case, then looks over to Quinn.
“Mr. Cavanaugh, it’s my understanding that you’re asking for a deed to be formally filed in regard to the property in question.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I have the promissory note here.”
A bailiff takes the paper to Judge Maxton, who slips on her glasses and reads it, then looks over at me.
“Ms. Hendricks, have you read this?”
“I have, Your Honor, but I question its validity. I don’t know that it’s authentic, and if it is, Mr. Cavanaugh can’t prove that the money wasn’t paid back.”
“Is this true?” Judge Maxton asks Quinn.
“The letter isn’t a fake,” he says. “It’s written by hand, and both parties signed it.”
“Has it been authenticated?” Judge Maxton asks.
“No,” Quinn replies, a muscle ticcing in his jaw, and I know he’s irritated.
“Your Honor,” I begin and stand behind my table. “I would like to file a motion for quiet title, given the question of its authenticity.”
She looks back and forth to both of us, then down at the letter again.
“I’m not going to rule in your favor right now,” she begins, and I feel my heart sink. “However, I am going to give you thirty days from today to research and plead your case.”
“Your Honor, I don’t think we need thirty days to wrap this up,” Quinn says, but Judge Maxton is shaking her brunette head.
“This case is a century old, Mr. Cavanaugh. She’s not going to find her evidence in seventy-two hours, you need to have this letter authenticated, and my docket is full for thirty days. If I rule now, you won’t like the outcome.”
“I would argue that I need more than thirty days to prove this is fake,” I counter, and Judge Maxton raises an eyebrow.
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “It’s unprecedented, but given the age of the case, I’m ordering the two of you to work together to find the evidence you need.”
Quinn and I stare at each other in shock, then both sit as we wait for her to look at the calendar.
“We will reconvene at 8:00 a.m. on Tuesday, August sixth. Adjourned.”
I stand, reach for my briefcase, and am surprised when I turn and see Uncle Patrick sitting in the courtroom. I walk over to him, as he stands to give me a hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to hear what the judge had to say, and it’s always a pleasure to watch you in action,” he says with a smile. “You did great.”
“I bought some time,” I agree with a sigh. And now I’m forced to work with Quinn Cavanaugh. “Do you want to catch some lunch?”
“I have some things to see to, so I’ll have to take a rain check. You did great today. Your grandfather would be proud.” He kisses my cheek and walks away, and I sit in the chair for a moment, just to gather myself. It really was probably the best outcome for today. The deed wasn’t filed, and I have time to prove that this whole thing is ridiculous.
The fact that it’s even in question is what makes me crazy. The money must have been paid back, if it was ever lent in the first place.
Which I highly doubt.
Now, I have to decide what my next course of action is. I’ll go to my office and talk with my boss, Dave. He’s smart, and he’s always the best person to brainstorm with.
I walk out of the courtroom and come face-to-face with Quinn in the hallway. His client is just walking away.
“Sienna,” he says, calling me over to him. “Can I have a word?”
“Just one, I’m in a hurry,” I reply and keep walking, my heels clipping on the hardwood of the old courthouse.
“I’d like to get your thoughts on doing some of the research together,” he says. I stop in my tracks and stare up at him as if he just suggested we both get naked right here in the hallway.
“Seriously?”
“Judge Maxton is right, there’s a lot to comb through. Unfortunately, nothing was electronic in 1913.”
“I’m not opposed to taking your calls and helping, but I’m going to research this alone. I’m going to prove you wrong.”
He sighs, that muscle twitching in his jaw, and I start walking again.
“Have a good day, Sienna.”
“Good-bye, Quinn,” I reply without looking back.
“While the letter is being authenticated, you can be searching through paperwork to see if there is a letter stating that the money was paid back,” Dave says two hours later as we both devour pastrami sandwiches in his office. “Did your grandfather keep stuff from that far back?”
“His attic is full of papers; I’m sure it goes back that far. He was also an attorney, and never threw anything away.”
“And it hasn’t been touched yet?”
“No, my uncle Patrick said he did get started with one box, but that I can come pick it up from him. He was just getting a head start on going through things, but he’s stopped now that this case is in motion.”
“Good,” Dave says. “But I have to warn you, Si, you won’t have many business hours to dedicate to this. We’re just too busy. And this is going to take up a lot of your time. We just don’t have the man power to give you.”
“I know.” I take a drink of my Coke. “Dave, I can take a leave of absence. I know this tickles the line of conflict of interest, and I have to dedicate more time to it than you can give me.”
“This is shitty,” he says with a sigh, staring at his sandwich. “I don’t want to lose you and your work ethic for a whole month.”
“I will always have my phone on me if you need me, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to pop in and out if I need resources or research. Or if I just need to pick your brain.”
His lips quirk up in a smile. “My brain is always here for the picking.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” I take another bite of my sandwich, relieved that Dave is being such a good sport about all this. Not all bosses would be. “So, the saga gets better.”
“Tell me.”
“Judge Maxton ruled that Quinn and I should work together on gathering evidence in the case, since it’s so old, and we only have thirty days to prove our cases. After court adjourned, Quinn approached me about working with me, but I turned him down.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you turn him down? This isn’t a murder trial, Sienna. It’s a property case that dates back de
cades. I agree with the judge. You both just want the truth.”
“Because it’s odd, don’t you think, for opposing counsel to work together?”
“I don’t know, you’re both looking for the same information. It might go quicker if you’re doing it together.”
“I’m going to work it alone, at least to start. I want to prove him wrong without his help.”
I don’t want to admit that I don’t want to work closely with Quinn because I’m so damn attracted to him, and I’m determined to keep this professional. So I quickly change the subject.
“I guess I have to postpone my vacation.”
“Just let me know when you’d like to reschedule. Because, Sienna, you’re taking a vacation this year.”
“I know that too. I promise I’ll take it. Maybe I’ll go somewhere tropical.”
He nods and shoves his empty wrappers in the to-go bag, then tosses it in the garbage. “Keep me posted on what you find. Hopefully you’ll find something right away that shuts this down quickly and I’ll get you back in the office full-time.”
“That would be ideal,” I agree with a laugh. “Also, I need to look into who might still be alive and can talk to me about what they know.”
“The letter is dated more than a hundred years ago. Surely any adults from that time are long dead.”
“Adults, yes, but there might be children, or grandchildren, who might know something.”
“That’s a long shot. You are a grandchild, and you didn’t know.”
I sink back in my chair and wrinkle my nose. “True. But my great-grandfather had a butler.”
“Well, la-de-da.”
I stick my tongue out at Dave and keep talking. “And the butler’s grandson was my grandfather’s driver.”
“I had no idea you came from so much money.”
“They lost a lot of it in the Depression,” I reply with a shrug. “But the two families were close, and I wonder if Mr. Steve would know anything.”
“Mr. Steve is the driver?”
“Yeah, but he’s old, Dave. His wife, Miss Liz, is a bit younger than him, though, and might remember stories.”
“That’s all hearsay, Sienna. It’s not proof.”
“But if she can give me any information, it might put me in the right direction to find the proof.”
“Do you think she’ll talk to you?”
“I don’t see why not.” I smile and reach for my phone. “I’ll see if I can go see her on my way home from work tonight.”
“Go ahead and leave whenever you want,” Dave says with a resigned sigh. “Your head’s in this today, as it should be.”
“You’re the best.”
“I’m well aware.” He winks and leaves my office, and I immediately call Miss Liz.
“Sienna, you get more beautiful every day,” Miss Liz says as she leads me into her formal living room. She and Mr. Steve live in a beautiful home not far from where I grew up. “Can I get you some tea, dear?”
“No, thank you. I just have a few questions for you, actually.”
“So this isn’t a social call, then.”
I cringe. “I’m sorry, but no.” I explain what happened at the reading of the will, in court today, and why I’m here. “So, you see, I’m hopeful that you might have any memories of conversations or stories about this from Mr. Steve.”
“I’ve already had this conversation, Sienna,” she says, surprising me. She stands, she’s clearly irritated, and I am at a complete loss as to what’s happening. “If you’d told me this over the phone, I would have saved us both some time. I don’t know anything about it, and neither does my husband.”
“Did someone come here to interview you?”
Her brown eyes meet mine now, and they’re not happy. “Yes, and he wanted to talk to Steve, and that’s not going to happen. It’ll just upset him. He’s been distraught since your grandfather’s death.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can see yourself out, Sienna.”
Liz marches from the room, and I quickly leave the house, hurrying down to my car.
What in the hell? Did Quinn come here and interrogate them? Did he upset them?
Obviously, the answer to both of those questions is yes.
That doesn’t sound like Quinn, but I don’t really know him that well. If it is Quinn, how did he find them so quickly? As I drive toward my house, I dial his number.
“This is Cavanaugh.”
“This is Sienna,” I reply and make a left. “I just left Liz and Steve’s house. Liz wouldn’t even talk to me about the case because she said she already spoke to you about it, and she’s not happy.”
“Whoa, who are Liz and Steve?”
I frown as I pull into my driveway, beside Lou’s car, and cut the engine. “Steve was my grandfather’s driver. His family has worked for mine for over a hundred years. I went to interview his wife, and she said you beat me to it.”
“I have no idea what or who you’re talking about,” he replies, his voice smooth and deep. “I swear to you, I haven’t spoken with them. I didn’t even know they existed.”
“Well, if you didn’t talk to them, who did?”
“Good question.”
I sigh, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips, and Dave’s words repeat in my head.
Maybe it’ll go quicker if you’re working together.
“Quinn, maybe I was hasty to turn you down today, when you suggested we work together.” I swallow hard, the words thick in my mouth.
Eating crow is never delicious or easy.
“Go on.”
I tilt my head back and forth, trying to decide if this is what I really want. Dave’s right, I’m a one-woman army, and Quinn is intelligent.
For reasons I haven’t clearly figured out yet, I trust him.
I hope I don’t regret that.
“It might be worth it if we work on this together,” I continue. “There is a lot of research to do, and at the end of the day, we both want the same thing: the truth.”
“You’re right,” he says. “But I won’t have time unless it’s evenings.”
“I can work with that. Dave, my boss, is giving me a sabbatical until this is resolved, so I’ll be working through the weekends as well as around the clock.”
“Hold on.” I hear pages flipping. “I can make that work. But just to warn you, I usually put in full days on the weekends as well. So it’ll be just evenings for me.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Excellent. We might as well get started tomorrow. You can come to my office at six. I’ll have dinner brought in.”
“No. Manhattan is too far, not to mention, all the paperwork is here in the Bronx. You can come to my house at six tomorrow. Bring dinner.”
“You’re a bossy woman, Sienna.”
“No, I’m practical.”
Always practical. That should be my middle name.
“Text me your address. It’ll be closer to six thirty by the time I get over there, but I’ll bring dinner. Chinese okay?”
“General Tso’s chicken for me, please. See you then.” I hang up and stare at my sister’s car, wondering if I’ve just made a mistake. I can do this by myself.
But the help will be a godsend. Not to mention, Quinn’s easy on the eyes.
Which might be the biggest reason why this is a mistake. Not that I can’t keep my hands to myself, because I certainly can.
And I will.
That decided, I walk into my house and feel my eyebrows climb into my strawberry-blond hairline when I see Lou in my kitchen, cooking up a storm, and an army of shopping bags in my living room.
It’s a sea of colorful plastic and brown paper bags, covering every surface. Chanel. Bergdorf Goodman. Louis Vuitton. Saks.
She can’t afford this.
“Hi,” Lou says with a happy smile. She’s uncorking a bottle of red. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m making you dinner, and I want to show off all the beautiful things I found today.”
“I know, I should have waited until we could go together, but I just couldn’t, Si. I was too excited, and I found some seriously amazing things.”
“Lou, you can’t afford these things.”
“Of course I can.” She frowns. “I just inherited a quarter of a million dollars.”
“It sounds like way more money than it is, Louise. It doesn’t go far, and Grandpa left it to us to make sure we’re taken care of, not so you can go buy out Bloomies.”
“I didn’t make it to Bloomie’s today,” she says, but I just stare at her, and she finally sags her shoulders. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”
“The money hasn’t even been paid out to us yet. And you’ll need to pay taxes on it. You don’t get to keep all of it.”
“My credit cards got a workout today.”
“Your credit cards were already maxed,” I remind her. Her cheeks flush with anger.
“I got extensions, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.” She slams the bottle of wine on the counter. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? Why do you always have to point out that you’re the perfect one and I’m the one who always screws up?”
“I’m far from perfect, and you don’t always screw up, but Lou, you can’t manage money. You’ll have your inheritance spent before you even get it, and then where will you be? Asking me or Mom and Dad for loans?” I use air quotes when I say loans.
“Mom and Dad help me because they want to.”
I blow out a breath and sit in a stool at my island. “You’re irresponsible, and it’s time you grow up, Lou. You’re too old to act like this. You’re not stupid. I don’t understand.”
“Retail therapy is a thing.”
“So is addiction,” I snap. “Grandpa never should have left that money to you. You’re going to waste it.”
“You know what, Sienna? Fuck you. I’m an adult, and I can spend my money any way I like. It’s none of your goddamn business.”
“You’re right, it’s not. Until you call me crying because you can’t pay your effing rent and need a handout. Then it’s suddenly my business.”
“I won’t be calling you again. For anything.”
She gathers her bags and storms dramatically out of my house, and I’m left with pasta boiling over on my stove and something smoking out of my oven.
All It Takes Page 3
