“This isn’t helping either of us.” Niki decided if Grace wasn’t up for relationship analysis, she could switch to their new business venture. Anything beat watching Grace stare out the window and shred a muffin. “If David’s gone, is it okay if I come home today?”
“What?”
“Home? Here. I live here, remember? Yes, it was nice of me to sleep at my inn to give you some privacy, but since you don’t need it now, I’ll come back. I have to redo my room at the Victory Manor, anyway. Freshen it up to the level of the other rooms. I have the whole place rented starting next Saturday.”
“Really? With everything that’s happened lately, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Well, snap to, girl. Our business is about to take off.” The overly hearty words fell flat between them. “It will be great, I swear.”
The worried note in her cousin’s voice got Grace’s attention. She forced herself to focus on the conversation. “How much of the decorating budget have you spent?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ll have plenty left. And the new bedroom suites are being delivered this afternoon. Wait until you see them. Hotel quality, just like you said. Elegant, but sturdy.”
Niki’s smile was a bit too wide for Grace’s liking. Taking out her own phone, she pulled up the calendar they’d set up for Delaney House. “I don’t see any reservations here.”
“Check July.”
Grace flicked the screen forward and stared at the bright red entries. “These are reservations? You’ve rooms rented almost every night.”
Niki beamed. “Isn’t it wonderful? Even allowing for cancelations, we should have a sixty percent occupancy — which is incredible for a new bed-and-breakfast. It’s the ads I ran. You said they were too expensive, but they paid off.”
Paid off. Grace closed the calendar and opened her banking app. A moment later she looked up at Niki in disbelief. “You’ve spent — ”
“I know, I know. It looks like a lot, but wait until the rentals roll in. You’ll get your money back by the end of the year. And everything after that is profit for you. I’m taking the biggest risk, remember.”
“That’s not true.” She wasn’t in the mood to let Niki do one of her reimaginings of reality. “You’ll have operating expenses.”
“Which I will cover. We have to spend money to make money. And we’re going to make a lot of money.”
Grace tried not to let her own lack of sleep and an increasingly upset stomach fuel her words. Her problems weren’t Niki’s fault; she’d allowed herself to be roped into this harebrained scheme.
“No,” she said. “The point is to earn a reasonable return on your investment. Risking lots of money on a small profit margin isn’t just dangerous, it’s wasting time.”
As usual, Niki ignored the lecture and chatted on, telling Grace to concentrate on finishing up with Mosley’s law practice and getting herself to France. “When you come back in the fall, you’ll be amazed at what I’ve accomplished. You’re free now. Do whatever you want, I’ve got things handled here.”
Grace took another look at the numbers in her bank account. An uncomfortable clammy feeling seized her, and she felt the acid from the latte at the back of her throat.
“Hey,” Niki yelped as Grace jumped to her feet and ran out of the room.
She barely made it down the hall to the bathroom in time. When she returned to the kitchen, every trace of the food and coffee had been cleared, and a chastened looking Niki was waiting for her.
“I’m so sorry. I should have left as soon as I saw how bad you looked.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Well, you look sick, and you obviously are. Can I get you anything?”
“No.” Grace went to the rocker but was careful to sit still. Motion wasn’t a good idea. Whatever she had wasn’t finished with her.
Niki hovered close by. “I’ve checked my emails and texts. Doesn’t look like anyone else who was here for dinner got sick, so that’s a relief.”
It was also a surprise to Grace. She’d thought for sure Niki’s artichoke casserole had been off.
“It isn’t nerves because I spent so much, is it?” Niki asked in a small voice. “I promise you’ll get it all back and a good profit, too.”
The spending spree didn’t make Grace happy, but she knew her underlying misery had a different cause.
Chapter Nineteen
Grace wanted to go back to bed once Niki left, but that wasn’t an option. Niki would return soon to resettle into her second-floor room, and Grace was in no mood to continue their conversation. Irritated at the world in general, she dressed and went to work.
Arguing voices greeted her as soon as she opened the front door. The file room looked as if a small tornado had passed through. After a quick check to make sure her own office was still intact, Grace followed the noise into the big corner office where Cyrus Mosley and Marjorie were squared off.
“I said Daniels, not Dumfries,” Mosley said.
“I brought both because they’re suing each other.” Marjorie didn’t back down, just waited, holding an armful of files and glaring at her employer of four-plus decades. “Do you want to work on the deposition questions or the motion to dismiss first?”
“Motion,” Mosley said. “With any luck, we won’t need depositions.”
Marjorie nodded in approval, then noticed Grace in the doorway. “Well, look who decided to join us.”
“Don’t be rude,” Mosley said and then waved Grace in, giving her a wide, denture-filled smile. “Lovely to see you, m’dear. Come, fill me in on the Overtons. That lot’s gone south fast, haven’t they? Do we still have them as clients?”
Grace navigated around the putting green and sank into an upholstered armchair that had been shoved into a corner next to Mosley’s desk. This wasn’t the solitude she’d hoped for, but at least it was a change of scenery.
“As far as I know,” she said. “Not much to do for them at the moment except, continue to look for the husband. For now, everyone’s hanging in to see how things turn out when he turns up — or the contract deadlines pass.” She didn’t add that the film company was undoubtedly busy preparing for a cancellation, while the wives refused to consider that their beloved man might be gone for good.
“I thought we agreed to pass them along to a firm better suited to help them,” Mosley said. “I don’t think they’ll be interested in my representation, and I’m not sure I can keep a straight face with them.”
It seemed to be the old Mosley who was at work today, and, in Grace’s opinion, the change was not entirely positive.
She said, “Our clients are three scared mothers and eleven children. I assure you; they aren’t funny in the least.”
He didn’t even pretend to be ashamed. “By all means, until you hand them off to someone else, go to them for your meetings. I can’t have children in this office.”
Grace ignored the edict and said, “May I assume you’re playing golf today?” Mosley’s bright green window-pane patterned slacks and a yellow short-sleeve shirt said the golf course was on his agenda.
“In an hour or so. Just setting up work for the next week. It’ll be busy.”
Grace mentally ran through the following week’s calendar. Mosley only had a handful of active clients, but one of them had a motion hearing on Thursday in a zoning appeal for a local restaurant. It was a simple case, but he hadn’t been in court for more than a year. He didn’t seem nervous, but the client, a golfing buddy, was getting a lot of work for a small fee. She reminded herself that it wouldn’t be her concern for much longer.
“What happened in the file room?” she asked.
Mosley looked up from the paper in his hands. “File room?”
“It looks like a bomb went off in there.”
“I’m rearranging a couple of the drawers,” Marjorie said. “The way Lily has it set up is inefficient, and since she’s leaving soon, I decided to rearrange it.”
Before Grace could react, Mosley erupted. “What
did I just say about being rude? We’ve talked about this. I’ll not have it. You’ll be polite, and there’ll be no gossip. Understood?”
Marjorie shrugged and said, “Well, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll finish up in the other room.” Then she was gone, leaving Grace and Mosley staring at each other.
“Lily’s just talking to some people,” he said.
“About a job.”
“Yes. She told me yesterday when she asked for today off.”
“Another day off, you mean. And she asked you, not me.” Grace tried not to look as hurt as she felt. Lily hadn’t even mentioned she would be out of the office.
“She’s only exploring her options.” he crossed the room and closed the door. Out from behind his desk, he looked years younger. He was stronger than he’d been even a month ago, Grace realized. Lily and Mosley were both moving away from her, and she’d soon be leaving them.
“We’ve talked. Lily feels she’ll have a brighter future elsewhere,” Mosley said as he came back to his desk. He removed a file from his middle drawer and handed it to her. “Look at this. I’m hiring a new associate. I rather enjoy limiting my work to morning appointments, and I believe I have enough business to keep this young man happy.”
Grace looked at the resume he handed her. “Jacob Briard? Where have I heard that name before?” She scanned the thin document. “Oh, Jake, from the town council office. What can he do for you? Is he an attorney?”
“No, and he never will be at the rate he’s going,” Mosley said. “Since his wife up and left him and their children, he’s had to work two jobs to support his family. He goes to UBC for night classes when he can, but he’s not getting anywhere that way. I’m talking to him about clerking here part time and taking a full course load. I’ve known Jake all his life. He’s a good boy.”
Grace felt a headache start. Or maybe it was a heartache. Jake Briard was another hard-luck story; exactly what Mosley didn’t need.
She said, “Look, let’s talk about this. If you want to keep the practice going, but you don’t want to work a full schedule, you need an attorney. Jake, nice as he is, will only be a part time clerk. How does that help you? All you’re doing is adding another salary to the payroll with no corresponding income.”
“I have a plan. Things will work out fine.”
“Cyrus, how? Jake’s a single father with two kids and two jobs already. Just because he knows the local zoning laws — ”
He cut her off, saying, “And he knows local government and local people. He was born and raised here, and everyone trusts him. It may be an investment now, but I’ll be repaid tenfold when he passes the bar. I’ll have someone to run the firm, and I can move on to full time golf.”
“I see,” Grace said. Suddenly, she did. Mosley had tried so hard to keep her in Mallard Bay; it hadn’t occurred to her he wouldn’t wait until she left to erase her option to take over the firm.
“I have to make plans, too, m’dear,” he said as if reading her mind. “You aren’t the only one who’s changing. We all have to get on with our lives. I’d planned to have this conversation with you at some point next week, but we’re into it now. We should talk.”
There was more? She felt like a delinquent in the principal’s office.
“I’ve taken too much of your time, and I appreciate your patience,” he said, then fell silent, seeming to find something of great interest to look at just over her head.
Grace forced herself to wait for whatever was coming. The halting, impatient man who’d suffered a heart attack and a stroke and recovered at the improbable age of older than God, was fading away as the real Mosley returned. Only a newly bald, spotted scalp distinguished this man from the one she’d met when she first came to Mallard Bay. He hadn’t needed her then, and it was sounded like he didn’t need her now. When he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better colleague or friend than you.” His tone low and kind. If Marjorie was in her usual spot glued to the other side of the door, she’d have a hard time eavesdropping. “You’re ready to go, and I know you believe that’s what’s best for you. It might be best for me, too.”
Grace leaned forward; sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her stomach was doing flips again. Cyrus thought it was best for him if she left? What had she done to make him say that?
Her inner critic immediately began whispering answers to that question, but she waited for him to tell her. Maybe his version would be better than her ever-ready guilt monster’s.
“Don’t think I’m not grateful,” he said. “Life has handed me a lot of entertainment in the past couple of years, and you’re responsible for most of it. I’ve been glad to be a part of it all — wouldn’t change a minute, except for the downtime. But I want to get back to a regular routine. And wherever you are, m’dear, there’s a hullabaloo coming, happening or fading.”
A hullabaloo? She’d gotten his wardrobe updated by several decades, but he was still firmly rooted in the last century. And not the end of it, either. She supposed he’d accuse her of having groovy shindigs next.
He wasn’t finished.
“Your idea of a client base and mine are different. I thought your changes would be good for the practice, but the truth is, I’m out of my depth with the high profile types you seem to attract. The fellows at the club are most impressed with me, of course. The firm’s had a noticeable uptake in reviews of wills and estate planning tasks. It seems everyone wants to reassert their client status with the attorneys who get the headlines. That part is very nice, but unnecessary. And it casts me in the wrong light. I won’t be able to keep this pace up when you’re gone. My heyday is long past, and it involved politicians, not television stars, not that there’s much difference these days.”
Grace wanted to tell him he was exaggerating the notoriety of both the case she’d handled last winter and the Overtons, but the tabloids covered both stories, so she didn’t bother to argue. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Jake’s a friend,” Mosley said. “He’s a young man, but we understand each other. When his wife left, I like to think I was some help to him. We spent a good bit of time together handling the custody details, and I’ve been a mentor of sorts for him. And now he and Lily are close, did you know that?”
Grace knew Lily’s boyfriend’s name was Jake, but she’d never put two and two together. Jake was at least ten years older than Lily, but any man who could handle two jobs, children and law school might be a match for her high-energy secretary. Mosley’s high-energy secretary.
“Do you think Lily will stay if Jake accepts your offer?” she asked.
“It would be best if she didn’t. I meant what I said; she’ll be better off in another job. There’s nowhere for her to go if she stays here. She’s talked about law school, too, but I don’t believe she’s done anything about it.”
She and Lily were both out. Mosley was bringing in a mini-him, and Marjorie would return to her former status as the Queen of Everything.
Grace promised to wrap up the Overtons and her other active cases, and ready her files for Mosley — or Jake. She gave Mosley a hug and kissed his cheek. The strength of his return squeeze was heartening. He really was back to his old self, and she tried very hard to be glad.
Chapter Twenty
McNamara’s early morning routine involved a large mug of coffee and a walk around the yard to check his bird feeders and the status of his latest squirrel baffle. He was enjoying moderate success with the new contraption, a silicone-coated feeder with rounded top and bottom sections which were deeper than the crafty rodents were long. The advertisement showed squirrels sliding off the slippery surface and happy birds eating in peace. McNamara figured it would last until he let down his guard. The squirrels always won in the end.
After ensuring all was well in the garden, he walked down to the beach that marked the eastern edge of his property. The Wye River was glassy this warm May morning, and the Adir
ondack chair at the end of his dock called to him. But Fridays were peak workdays during tourist season, and even if he’d had time to enjoy the beauty of the river, he didn’t want to let his mind wander. He didn’t like where his thoughts kept ending up. He had a decision to make.
Mallard Bay’s police station and municipal operations shared a rambling 1950-style brick building with an off-shoot of the Kingston County Library. The two-room department opened onto a small gravel parking lot that ran up to the side of the Three Pigs Deli. Since the grand opening of the deli’s new bakery section two weeks before, McNamara and Banks had fought against the distracting aromas that permeated the station. When the always fickle air-conditioning went out, they were forced to open the windows and front door, the battle was lost.
McNamara brushed pastry crumbs from a report the corporal had given him and winced at the oily stain the buttered croissant left behind. Not that Banks would notice, or care. He was busy working his way through a cinnamon bun the size of a dinner plate.
McNamara tapped the report. “This is good work, Aidan.”
“Can’t take credit for all of it,” Banks said. “Grace called here early this morning and asked me to let you know the gossip at dinner last night was mostly true. Felicia Jones is in town and claims she and Overton are married. Also, the family is confident he’ll be returning any time now, but if we get a lead on him, she’d appreciate a heads up. All I had to do was make a few calls and troll the internet and databases for a while.”
It was a lot of detail for a case that still might be a late return of a rental car, but Banks had done a good job. McNamara had to admit a missing man with three wives and a State Police all-points bulletin chasing him warranted the extra work. “She say anything else?” McNamara asked, not looking up from the report.
“Who?”
McNamara refused to say Grace’s name just to amuse the juvenile corporal. His expression was enough to move the conversation along.
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