Second Chances

by Bria Marche

  “Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus. What? No, I don’t want you to dispute it.” Abby exhaled a deep sigh of relief. “Okay, originally you said you were going to call me. What about?”

  “That’s right. I wanted to let you know I received notification of the wrongful death claim. Apparently, City Waste and Recycling plans to fight us. The claim is in the hands of their insurance company, and they’ve hired a law firm already. We should be hearing more very soon. I’m quite sure they’ll deny the claim.”

  “Then what happens?” Abby looked out the window, thankful for the beauty just beyond the glass. The third-floor bedroom gave her quite an advantage with gorgeous views every time she peered out. A tear of relief slid down her cheek as she stared out at the bluest skies that side of the Caribbean.

  “Then we fight it. That’s what you hired me to do, didn’t you, Abigail?”

  “Yes, I did. Please keep me posted. Thank you, and goodbye.” Abby hung up and lay across the bed. The stress she had felt for the past two days temporarily subsided. She stared at the ceiling fan and watched the blades turn as she had in St. Thomas. Too many memories flooded her mind at that moment. If only she could go back in time before that cruise, before she ever laid eyes on Remy Bellavance, maybe then everything could have turned out differently. She lay alone in her mother’s old bedroom with her regrets, memories, and temporary relief as she cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nine people sat at the dining room table for dinner. Tonight’s menu consisted of black bean soup, corn bread, a fresh garden salad, still water, and iced tea. Conversation flowed effortlessly among the group of friends. Brandon usually directed his comments toward Abby, dismissing—or at least trying to dismiss—everyone else in the room, especially Erik. His boastful self-praise was evident when he announced he was the lead defense attorney on a new insurance case. He didn’t have all the information yet, but he was certain it would be a slam dunk in the insurance company’s favor.

  “Evidently, somebody is trying to soak money out of the insurance company I represent, stating it’s a wrongful death claim. I can probably have this case wrapped up in no time,” he joked. “I swear, people salivate at the thought of an insurance payout. They wait on the sidelines with their greedy little paws out for an insurance company to drop wads of cash into their hands. Obviously, there’s a new lawyer in town that’s going to shut them down in no time, and that lawyer would be me.”

  Abby’s heart seized in her chest as she choked on her iced tea. She excused herself from the table and ran down the hallway to the nearest bathroom on the first floor.

  “What was that about?” Brandon asked, smirking. He buttered a piece of corn bread and looked around the table.

  “Maybe she’s just tired of your self-praise, Brandon. It does get old,” Melanie said. She got up, tossed her napkin on the chair, and followed Abby down the hall. “Abby,” Melanie called out as she knocked on the bathroom door, “can I come in?” Mel heard the sound of sniffles through the door as she waited on the other side.

  “Are you alone?” Abby said behind the door.

  “I’m alone. Let me in, Abs.”

  The door creaked open, and Abby peered out before allowing Melanie in. “Mel, what if Brandon has my case? How am I going to find out? This isn’t something I want to discuss around the dinner table. Poor Charles works for City Waste and Recycling, I’m suing the company, and Brandon might be the one contesting my case. Everything is going to hell. I thought now that the car insurance company is sending a check, I’d be able to breathe again for a few months. Brandon makes it sound like anyone who files an insurance claim is a pariah. Plus if he actually has my case, he’ll learn everything about me, starting with the fact that I’m married and own this house. My private life is none of his business, and he has the biggest mouth in Charleston. I know he’ll contest my claim just to prove a point.”

  “That’s his job as a defense attorney, to contest claims. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s personal. I just wonder how good he is at his job since you can’t believe everything he says. He’s over-the-top full of himself.”

  “You’re right, but do you think Attorney Lewis would know who City Waste and Recycling’s insurance company hired to represent them?”

  “Probably. Call him in the morning. The sooner the better, so you don’t go off the deep end over this.”

  ***

  “Lewis Law Office, Adrianne speaking. How may—”

  Abby interrupted. “It’s Abby. Is Attorney Lewis in?”

  “One moment, please.”

  “Whatever.” Abby listened to that god-awful elevator music again for what felt like forever until he picked up.

  “Abigail, what can I do for you?”

  “Hello, Attorney Lewis. I need some information.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you know what law firm City Waste and Recycling’s insurance company retained?”

  “Why would that matter one way or another?”

  “I’m curious, that’s all. Do you have that information?”

  “Hold on, please, while I check through your file.”

  Abby walked to the kitchen with the phone jammed between her shoulder and the crook of her neck, a pad of paper and pen in her hand. Betsy was just starting lunch preparations. A kettle of water boiled on the stove as Betsy dumped in a bag of bow tie pasta. She stood by the sink and chopped tomatoes and cilantro. Abby sat down at the table and whispered to Betsy, asking for a glass of iced tea. “Yes, Attorney Lewis, I’m still waiting.” Abby rolled her eyes at Betsy as she doodled on the paper. “Yes, okay… you said it’s the office of Andrews, Moore, and Luck? Yep, that’s all I needed. Thank you. I’ll be waiting to hear from you soon.”

  “What’s wrong?” Betsy asked as she sat at the table next to Abby.

  Abby held her head in her hands, pressing on her temples as she stared down at the patterned tablecloth. “I think everything is going to come unraveled. Damn it, why did I rent out rooms to guys with an agenda? Erik wants me as a girlfriend, and Brandon just wants to win. I don’t know what the heck to do. Brandon will be upset if I don’t go out with him, Erik will be upset if I do, and now I find out Brandon is the attorney who’s going to contest my wrongful death suit. He’s also going to find out I’m Abigail Melrose, as in Melrose Mansion, the damn house he’s living in. I can see it already. No wrongful death claim, plus everyone will think I’m nothing but a greedy liar.”

  “Okay, what you’re really worried about is Erik, right? I mean, Mel and I know the truth, and nobody else matters, do they?”

  “No, but somehow I have to stay on Brandon’s good side without alienating Erik. Even if I don’t win the lawsuit, I don’t want him to tell everyone at dinner what a lying weirdo I am.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that. One thing I know for sure is that Brandon loves to talk.”

  “I need some fresh air. I’m going over to the park for a while to think.”

  “Abby?” Betsy reached in the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here. It’s hot outside. Sit in the shade.”

  Abby took the bottle and embraced Betsy. “You and Mel are like the sisters I never had. I really love you both.”

  “Back at ya. Look both ways before you cross the street,” Betsy said, giving Abby a wide, glowing smile.

  The years she spent growing up on South Battery had made Abby very fond of White Point Garden. She enjoyed the convenience of a small, beautiful park right across the street and the water beyond that was the perfect place to cry, reflect, be joyful, or just ponder. Growing up, Abby had done all those things. She took the path to the gazebo and sat on the cement step. That shaded spot was far cooler than the benches near the cannons overlooking the water. Too many tourists flooded that area anyway. Should I just come clean with Erik and get all of this shame and deceit off my chest? Am I that invested in him to think we have a future? Maybe I should wait it out and see what happens with Brandon and the
lawsuit. Abby sat in the park for at least an hour, watching the yellow-crowned night herons sitting in the treetops. They always made her smile, especially as a youngster. Abby checked the time. It was half past noon. Lunch is probably ready. No wonder my stomach is growling. She began the trek back home, waiting for traffic to pass before stepping off the curb when she saw Brandon’s car. He found a spot, parking only fifteen feet away from her.

  He waved as he got out of the car and hit the lock button on his key fob. The horn on the silver BMW sedan beeped twice. “Hi, Abby, funny meeting you here.” He laughed at what he thought was a clever comment.

  “Hi, Brandon. Why are you home at lunchtime?”

  “I left some notes in my room that I need later. I have an appointment this afternoon with that insurance company about the new wrongful death claim. How about joining me for dinner tonight, just you and me somewhere intimate?”

  “Um… okay, sure. What time will you be done with work? I can just meet you somewhere.”

  “That’s crazy. Did you forget we live in the same house? We’ll drive together like a real date. Be ready at six o’clock and wear something nice.”

  Just the thought of Brandon telling her to wear something nice irritated Abby. She felt like a child being told what to do. Brandon was in charge, and Abby had to let it go. Getting information from him was more important. “Yeah, no problem,” she said as they crossed the street and walked through the gate together. “Okay, see you later. I’m going to have lunch with Betsy on the patio.”

  ***

  At five o’clock, after confiding in Melanie and Betsy, Abby went upstairs to shower and dress nicely, as Brandon had said, for their dinner date. She stared into the oval antique floor mirror. I look nice. Pretty, but not overly sexy. I don’t want to give Brandon the wrong idea that there’s actually something between us or that I have any interest in him. Yeah, right. Like that’s going to enter his mind. He has enough interest in himself for both of us, and I am going out with him… damn it. She hoped Erik wasn’t back yet from his second day of working just a few blocks away. He had a full month of interior repairs to make for a home restoration on Atlantic Street. As she came down the staircase and opened the door to the second floor, she literally ran into Erik. He wore a blue bandanna across his forehead, tied at the nape of his neck. Sprouts of blond hair poked out around the bandanna and framed his face. Faded blue jeans and a sleeveless muscle shirt were his work attire. Covered in sawdust and sweat, he seemed to be sneaking off to his room to shower and change before dinner.

  “Abby, sorry, I didn’t…. are you going somewhere? You look amazing.” Embarrassed, he tried to brush away the sawdust from his clothes.

  “You’re the one that looks amazing,” she responded, longing for Erik no matter what condition he was in.

  He laughed and waited for her answer.

  “Erik, if you don’t ask, I won’t have to answer.” Sadness filled her eyes as she softly kissed his cheek and continued down the hallway to the staircase leading to the first floor.

  He stared at her, waiting for her to look back, but she didn’t. The hair on the back of his neck prickled since he knew too well what was going on.

  At dinner, two empty chairs were pushed in, and seven people sat at the table. Lisa spoke up, unaware of the tension in the air. “That’s weird. Abby and Brandon are both gone tonight.” She glanced around the table expecting someone to add their two cents to her comment, but nobody did. “Sorry… me and my big mouth.” She stole a quick glance at Erik, feeling the tension in the room double because of what she’d just said. “Um… the chicken Marsala is really good, Betsy.”

  “Thanks, Lisa. I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty more, everyone. Help yourself. Erik?”

  “Naw… I’ve had enough, and I’m kind of beat. I think I’ll just call it a night. See you in the morning.” Erik wiped his hands on the napkin and stood to leave the dining room. “Dinner was great, Betsy. Good night.” With defeat written across his face, he turned and walked upstairs.

  “That sucks,” Adam said. “I think Erik really has a thing for Abby. I was under the impression she thought Brandon was kind of a jerk.”

  “Well, it’s their business. Abby is an adult. She’ll figure it out,” Melanie said as she cleared the table and scraped the plates.

  ***

  “This is a beautiful restaurant, Brandon. I’ve never been here.” Abby scanned the interior as they walked through the door.

  “Yeah, I was impressed by the star rating and reviews online. This restaurant is fairly new, but it seems to be the happening place to go lately.” Brandon checked in with the hostess, and she led them to a quiet alcove with intimate seating.

  “Great choice, I like it.” Abby looked around the room, admiring the antique red brick walls and ironwork accents. A brief history of the restaurant was written on the menu insert. The building was originally a carriage house for a prominent Charleston family in 1861. Over time, the home was sold separately, and the carriage house had been used as different establishments. Abby made a mental note to keep the restaurant in mind for a future date with Erik. The quaint furnishings and ambience made it seem warm and welcoming.

  “So how did your meeting go today?” Abby asked after they ordered dinner and a bottle of Barolo Brunate. She wanted to keep one step ahead of Brandon and find out exactly how much he knew. The only way she could do that, even though she cringed at the thought, was to ask.

  “It’s nice to know you have an interest in my work.”

  I don’t give a crap about your work, Brandon. It’s all about self-preservation. “Well, of course I do. Being an attorney seems very interesting to me.” She took a huge gulp of wine and estimated the cost of the bottle. A second one might be needed. Hmmm… each gulp I take costs him six bucks.

  “I had a lot on my plate today and didn’t have time to review the entire case. The only thing I know so far is the insurance company we’re working with is representing City Waste and Recycling. I guess they’re the main garbage company in Charleston. Anyway, some poor schmuck had a heart attack right in the truck while he was on the job and ran into the side of some hotshot lady’s car. They both died on the scene. Evidently, this woman’s family is pushing for a wrongful death claim against the garbage company. They must have some idiot for an attorney, otherwise they’d know they can sue the dead guy’s personal automobile insurance company, too. I’m sure I can find some flaw in this suit to shut it down right away.”

  Abby took two more gulps of wine. “How would somebody sue an automobile insurance company if their client died, too?”

  “As long as the insurance policy is paid and up to date, the policy is still in force and liable for paying the lawsuit even if their client is dead, too.”

  “Isn’t that interesting? How long do you think this case will drag out?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on if the family suing fights back after I contest the claim. It will cost them money, but it sounds like they have plenty anyway.”

  The wine almost shot out of Abby’s nose at that comment. “Oh… excuse me.” She coughed several times to clear her throat. “I must have swallowed wrong.”

  “Anyway, I’ll know more this week. How’s your salmon?”

  “It’s really delicious and moist. I’m having a great time tonight. Thank you, Brandon.”

  Abby couldn’t wait to get home. All she wanted to do was lie in the comfort of her bed and plan for the worst-case scenario. What is the worst thing that can go wrong? I won’t win the lawsuit, I’ll lose Erik forever, and I’ll be broke until I’m forty. Is that something I can live with? If I have to, I’ll sell everything in the house and sleep on a cot, but I don’t want to lose Erik’s friendship.

  Chapter Twenty

  Abby and Betsy entered through the side gate after getting groceries. The sight of Brandon and Charles sitting on the patio and enjoying a beer made Abby more than nervous. As they passed, she overheard Brandon talking about the
case he was working on.

  As long as he’s only bragging about himself, I don’t care what he says, she thought as she and Betsy excused themselves and walked into the kitchen.

  Abby kept her distance from the men of the house and opted to help Betsy with dinner. It seemed like a safer place to be. Erik had been snarky the last few days, and Brandon was just being Brandon, self-absorbed, as though he was the only person in the house who had anything interesting to say. Melanie, Lucille, and Lisa joined in, helping them peel potatoes and shuck corn. Tonight’s menu consisted of fried chicken, potato wedges, corn on the cob, and a green salad.

  At dinner, with Brandon on one end of the table and Erik at the other, Abby felt doomed sitting between them. Why didn’t I make this a women-only boardinghouse? There would be much less drama. Erik won’t look at me, and Brandon is playing that for all it’s worth.

  Brandon started the conversation and aimed his comments at Abby. “I just learned today that Charles works at City Waste and Recycling. It’s odd how you never mentioned that at dinner the other night when I brought up the name.”

  “Oh… well… you knew Charles was a garbage collector, I just assumed…”

  “Assumed what? That I knew where he worked?”

  “Yes, I suppose. Why does it matter where Charles works?”

  “Because, Abigail, I live in the same house as somebody whose company I’m representing in a lawsuit. It could be awkward for me.”

  “Sorry. You knew what everyone here does for a living. It isn’t my place to disclose where they work, and it’s none of your business anyway.”

  Brandon raised his voice and leaned in closer to Abby to make his point, “It is my business if it affects my business.”

  “Hey, back off,” Erik shouted across the table. He was already on edge, his jaws clenched, and the slightest provocation could set him off.