Finding Julian

by Morgan, Shane

  He raised my chin and I stared into his eyes innocently. “Pick out some stuff and try it on. Don’t worry about the price.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to do that for me.”

  “Jules, it’s okay. Let someone else take care of you for a change.” The corners of his mouth curled into a gorgeous smile. My heart felt as if it was melting inside my chest. Why did he have to be so darn sexy and sweet?

  I made to protest again when Seven spun me around and nudged me towards the rack I was browsing before. I guessed there was no arguing with him.

  Being a guy, Seven went back over to the men’s section as I tried on a few things. Finally, I selected a few items—the cheapest on the rack. As I bundled them together and made my way over to Seven, my eyes glimpsed a shapely woman with curly red hair coming into the store. I almost ignored her when a familiar douchebag entered as well. It was Mr. Monroe and Claire—the nerve of them.

  Instinctively, I knew I had to find a way to get Seven out of the store without him seeing them. I darted over to where he was and hauled him to the closest cashier.

  He grinned broadly at me when I settled the clothes on top of the counter. “You are simple.”

  I forced a smile as he took his wallet out of his pocket and handed his credit card to the cashier after she rang me up. Waiting for him to sign the receipt, I glanced behind to see where Mr. Monroe and Claire went. I had to make sure they were out of sight before leading Seven to the exit.

  “Thank you for coming, enjoy your day,” the cashier’s high-pitched tone drew back my attention. I smiled and took the bag from her. Seven reached for it but I gripped his arm and hurried him towards the store exit.

  I almost succeeded at getting him out of the store without any drama, when a flamboyant laugh reverberated behind us. Astonished, Seven twisted around at the sound. A dark look formed on his face instantly. My chest ached for him.

  Peering in the direction Seven’s eyes were locked in, I saw that Mr. Monroe and Claire were tightly pressed together in a passionate kiss.

  He took a step forward, his fists clenched and his jaw stiffened. I wanted to do something, try to calm him down before he lunged at the lovers, still engrossed in each other and unaware of Seven’s presence or mine.

  Then Seven relaxed his shoulders and spun around, storming out of the store. His reaction surprised me. I scurried out behind him, turning back to glance at the cheating couple one more time before heading down the street to where Seven’s car was parked.

  On the drive back to Narragansett, Seven was as quiet as a church mouse. I watched him twist his face in agony, pushing back tears. I lifted my hand to slowly reach over and rest it on top of his, but decided against it as I remembered I’d kept his father’s affair a secret from him.

  When we got back to the estate, I walked gradually behind him down the side steps and across the lawn towards the guesthouse. I deliberated following him when he suddenly diverted and went down to the beach. My legs wouldn’t let me though. I had nothing to say. No words of wisdom for a situation like this.

  I entered the guesthouse and went into my room, watching Seven from the balcony. He dropped down on the sand and stared emptily at the ocean. From behind, he seemed like he needed a friend—a really good one. Not the kind who knew what was going on and didn’t tell him.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but the sun was starting to set and Seven was still outside, sitting on the sand. I continued watching him from my balcony, feeling helpless.

  After another few minutes, I’d had enough of the strange tug at my heart. I ran out of my room and didn’t stop until I was out of the guesthouse. My feet slowed as I approached Seven. He sat hunched over on the cooling sand, his back shaking lightly. The sorrowful scene was unbearable to see.

  I fell down on the sand and hugged him tightly from behind. He flinched a bit, then relaxed his body, curving his back against me. In seconds, his long fingers shrouded my own, his touch warm yet painful. I wanted so badly to make him happy and I just couldn’t explain why.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to him, my lips pressed against his back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his musky cologne.

  Seven gently removed my hands and turned around to face me. His eyes were red, his cheeks were wet. He’d been crying here by himself.

  I lifted my hand and wiped his cheek as I would have any friend. Only, Seven was more than a friend. He was someone I’d started to care deeply for.

  He grasped my hand in his before I could pull away. His emerald eyes penetrated mine with what I interpreted as burning desire.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

  My words were muffled as he flung his arms around my body and hauled me in closer, pressing his lips to mine. Seven kissed me hard, hungrily. His mouth conquered mine in the utmost enticing way possible. It was the best kiss I’d ever experienced.

  I tugged at his shirt and pushed deeper into his chest, moaning as he lowered his lips down to my neck and ran his tongue against my skin. Then he laid me down on the sand and braced himself firmly on top of me. Our lips touched again—the kiss lit my soul on fire.

  I yearned for him to touch me more, kiss me even harder, when unexpectedly, Seven stopped. He eased up slowly and gazed down at me, his forehead wrinkling in horror.

  Seven got up fast and combed his hand through his tousled hair, as if he only now realized what he was doing.

  I stood as well, outright confused. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Julian. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Not exactly what I wanted to hear right after a steamy kiss like that.

  I straightened and brushed the sand off my dress. “It’s okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. His rejection hurt. But I didn’t want him to see that. I never wanted anyone to see that side of me.

  “It’s just…seeing my father and Claire together…my head’s all over the place right now,” he tried to explain.

  “It’s okay,” I said again, turning to leave.

  “Wait,” he called after me. “Julian, is it really okay?”

  I kept my back turned to him as I whispered, “Yes. It was a mistake.” And that was another reason why I should leave this place.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Seven and I hardly looked at each other over the weekend. Also, he hadn’t asked Aunt Bev to stop Claire from working at the guesthouse. He would simply leave before she came to work, and avoided coming home until she left for the day. I didn’t understand him at all. He wasn’t confronting his father about the affair. He was pretending like nothing happened.

  By Monday, I was following Aunt Bev’s strategy. I drowned myself in the project in order to escape thinking about the kiss with Seven. The sugary taste of his soft lips haunted my dreams and kept me up at night. I wanted desperately to feel his touch again.

  I took comfort in knowing I’d be out of here soon enough. Mr. Douglas had filed the legal stuff and all I had to do was sign the papers to turn over the estate to Mackenzie. Of course, I’d have to get her to sit down with Mr. Douglas and sign some papers as well.

  I still hadn’t made any progress in establishing a relationship with my sister though. Whenever our paths crossed, the only thing she asked about was when I’d give her what was rightfully hers so that I could leave. She would certainly be ecstatic by the news that I’d managed to contest the will, but a part of me had second thoughts about giving her anything.

  Ironically, on my way back to the office from Dunkin Donuts after a quick morning break, I saw Mackenzie coming out of the building. I considered stopping her before she got in her car, wondering what else she did aside from volunteering at the animal shelter and going to college.

  “Mackenzie,” I called after her as she opened the door to her Mercedes.

  She glanced over in my direction, creasing her forehead. “What do you want?”

  I walked up to her. “I did it. The estate will
be yours if you meet with this lawyer and sign a few papers.”

  Surprised, Mackenzie straightened, her face softened as she said, “Oh, finally.”

  “Yeah, well, no one anticipated Mr. Cornwell getting killed during a robbery.”

  Dropping her eyes to the ground, she seemed a bit sad. “He didn’t deserve that,” she muttered under her breath, eyes still looking down. “As much as we didn’t get along, Robert didn’t deserve that.”

  “I’m sorry,” was all I could say. I hadn’t seen her so troubled till now. Even at our father’s funeral she appeared strong.

  Mackenzie’s head shot up. She crossed her arms and asked in a sarcastic tone, “Who’s this new lawyer and when can we meet up to get it over with?”

  I smirked. She was back to her usual self. “If you want, we could go see him now. I’ll just call Aunt Bev and let her know I’m leaving for a while.”

  She nodded. “Get in.”

  I walked around to the passenger side and climbed inside, calling Aunt Bev as Mackenzie pulled onto the road. Then I informed Mr. Douglas we were on our way.

  We were almost across the Pell Bridge when Mackenzie broke through the silence that had encapsulated us since leaving Newport. “Where is this lawyer, anyway?”

  “Jamestown,” I answered.

  “And let me guess, Seven paid for him.” She had a smart grin on her face.

  “No,” I shushed. “Mr. Douglas said I could just pay him once it’s over.”

  Mackenzie snorted. “You should’ve just told me. I’ll pay him when we get there ‘cause this benefits me.”

  That reminded me. “Why do you want this place so bad when you said all that stuff to our father?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mr. Cornwell told me what you said about the Vanderson estate. Burn it down, leave it to rot,” I mimicked her voice.

  She flashed me a dirty look then brought her eyes back on the road. She took a deep breath then explained, “He’d made me so angry that day. Before, he would do company stuff at home. Then he started to paint, and I still couldn’t get a second of his time.” She spoke in such a breathy, vulnerable tone. “He loved that house. And—”

  “That’s why you want it,” I finished her sentence. “Because it’s the only way you feel close to him.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I do. But what about his paintings? You let your mom get rid of them—”

  “She didn’t get rid of them,” Mackenzie spat. “I bought them from her gallery.”

  “What?” Wow. She was on a roll with surprises. “You bought them from her?”

  Rolling her eyes, Mackenzie turned and glared at me for a split second. “She doesn’t know it was me. I was an anonymous buyer.”

  I didn’t know what to make of her confession. “But…” I mumbled. “They were mostly of me.”

  “And me too,” she added. “He painted us together. How messed up is that? He barely spoke to me yet he liked painting me and his lover’s daughter.”

  After a long pause, I asked, “Where are they?”

  “In my condo.” Her voice was like a near whisper.

  Shortly after, Mackenzie pulled up outside Mr. Douglas’ law office in Jamestown. She found parking and we walked inside.

  When his secretary let us into his office, Mr. Douglas appeared on edge. He hung over and rested his elbows on top of his desk, massaging his temple.

  “Mr. Douglas,” his secretary pulled him out of his thoughts. “Ms. Rowell and her sister are here.”

  Looking up at us, he sprang from his chair and grabbed some papers off his desk. “Ms. Rowell, I’m sorry, but after carefully looking over the will and legal terms that apply, I don’t see how I can contest this, especially with the untimely demise of the previous lawyer. It’ll be extremely difficult to make any changes.”

  I glanced over at Mackenzie, who was just as flabbergasted as I was. She narrowed her eyes and dropped her hands onto her hips. “Hey, look here now—”

  “That’s not what you said before,” I spoke before Mackenzie got the chance to lash out at him. “You told me all we had to do was sign a few papers and then that would be it. What happened exactly? Why’s it not going to work?”

  Mr. Douglas seemed nervous, disheveled. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of his wrinkled face. I noticed his hand shook a bit when he reached the papers over to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Here’s the will along with the papers you previously signed. I’ve stamped them as void. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  “That’s it?” Mackenzie and I said at the same time. We looked at each other then back at him.

  “If this is because she didn’t give you any money up front I’ll write you a check now. How much?” she rifled in her shoulder bag for her checkbook.

  “Geez, is money the answer to all your problems?” I hissed at her.

  “It’s not about the payment. It simply cannot be done. Now please, I have another client coming in shortly.” Mr. Douglas gestured towards the door.

  Turning to leave, Mackenzie glared at me before she stormed out of the office. I stood in place, looking back at Mr. Douglas. Something just didn’t seem right about this.

  “I’m really sorry, Julian,” he apologized again.

  Accepting this setback, I nodded, then turned and walked out the office towards Mackenzie, fuming by her car.

  “I should’ve just gotten my own damn lawyer,” she spat over the car at me, opening the driver’s door. “Get in. I’ll find a better one, and he definitely will get it done. Not like this lazy ass.”

  “Don’t say that,” I defended Mr. Douglas as I got inside the car. “He said it’s difficult for him and that it’s possible we can’t contest the will.”

  “Oh please,” she scoffed, “Anything’s possible. People do these things all the time. I just need to find the right lawyer to make it happen.”

  The drive back to Narragansett was so quiet it had me buried in deep thinking. Mr. Douglas’ behavior left me with an unsettling feeling. He appeared so anxious, dazed even. Not as composed as he was in our previous meetings.

  As Mackenzie got onto Boston Neck Road, I had a sudden urge of going to Mr. Cornwell’s office in Wickford.

  “Let me out,” I said as she turned into the Anawan waterfront community.

  “Huh? Why?”

  “I’m going to catch a bus to Wickford. Just something I want to do.”

  She snorted. “Whatever,” slowing down so I could get out of her car. The second I did she sped off towards the estate.

  I walked back out and headed towards a bus stop. If my timing was right, there should be one coming in ten minutes. I couldn’t explain why, I only knew I had to figure something out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I got off the bus in Wickford, I headed down the street towards Mr. Cornwell’s office. The door was wide open, and there was a SUV parked in front of the building with boxes inside. I walked up the front steps. There was a short, petite lady with auburn hair taping up a few boxes. It looked like the same lady the cops questioned that day when Mr. Cornwell was found dead.

  She heard my footsteps as I approached, twirling around with cautious eyes. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Mr. Cornwell’s secretary?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “My name’s Julian Rowell. I’m—”

  “I know who you are.” She bent down and picked up a box from the floor. Walking past me and out the door, she asked over her shoulder, “Why are you still here in Narragansett?”

  “Actually,” I picked up one of the boxes and helped carry it out behind her. “I was wondering about Mr. Cornwell’s murder.”

  She placed the box on the back seat of her SUV then turned and took the one I was carrying. “What about it?”

  “Did the police find any leads?”

  “No leads.”

  Closing the door, she walked back up the steps and went inside t
he office. I entered as well, surveying the room. It was huge, with tall bookshelves aligning the walls and a massive, mahogany executive desk right in the middle with a black authoritative chair behind it. Peering at the bank of windows I thought to myself, Mr. Cornwell had a lovely view of the ocean.

  Ms. Vaughn moved over to one of the shelves and started piling books inside boxes. She stopped for a moment and skimmed through one of them, shaking her head in pity.

  “Oh, Robert, it seems like ever since he started handling the estate of your father it all went downhill for him.”

  I inched closer to her, curious. “What do you mean?”

  She composed herself and continued packing the boxes. “Well, for one, there was that fuss about Mr. Vanderson removing his sister from his will, said something about her plotting with her lover to take full control of his company, so he wanted to leave it to his wife’s nephew instead.”

  “What?” That couldn’t be right. “But Aunt Bev was mentioned in the will. He left the company to her.”

  Ms. Vaughn spun. Her eyes expanded with astonishment. “Sorry?”

  She dropped the books to the floor and walked over to one of the boxes already packed. She ripped the tape off and took out a red folder, flipping through the sheets of paper.

  “That’s odd,” she said.

  I walked over. “What’s wrong?”

  Fixing the folder inside the box again, she said lowly, “It’s not here.”

  “What’s not?”

  Ms. Vaughn turned and looked at me, her big brown eyes piercing mine. “There was a copy of the will. I’d printed it for Robert’s records like I always have. So, I don’t understand why it’s not here now.”

  That truly was strange. “Do you remember what was in the will you copied?” I wanted to see if she had it right before showing her the one I had in my bag now.

  “Well, let’s see…” she rubbed her forehead. “I remember the mention of his wife and her daughter, and I’m beyond certain he’d left his company to his wife’s nephew. Seven something…”