You Dropped a Blonde on Me

by Dakota Cassidy

  The doors burst open to the yelps of “Surprise!”

  A sea of seniors’ faces greeted her. Confetti in colored pieces flew in the air, landing in Max’s hair and her open mouth of surprise. Noisemakers sounded off in screeching blares. Bunches of multicolored balloons that read “Happy Birthday” were tied to chairs. Big band music screamed from the rec center’s speakers, and a table full of goodies lined the back wall. “What . . .” It wasn’t her birthday.

  Mary, Gail, Connor, and Mona held a sheet cake between them, candles lit and glowing. Their smiles were wide and smug. “Blow ’em out, Maxie, before we drop the whole damned thing on the floor,” her mother shouted over the merriment.

  “How did you keep this from me?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t easy—specially with that busybody Esther. But I still have a trick or two up my sleeve,” Mona said, pleased with herself.

  “But, Mom. It’s not my birthday. You know that,” she chided with affection.

  “It’s your re-birthday, honey,” Mary supplied with a wink. “You’ve been here in the village a whole year, and look at all the things you’ve accomplished. Some of us in the village thought that was worth celebrating. Now blow the candles out!”

  A year.

  A year since she’d turned up at her mother’s, broken and battered. A year since she’d packed one lowly bag, thrown Connor in the car, and left everything she thought she loved behind. A year filled with more tears than she thought a body could hold in water weight.

  Now, a year later, she’d found purpose, and meaning in discovering she didn’t need anyone else to help her do that but herself.

  “C’mon, Mom. Blow them out,” Connor shouted, and everyone else followed suit. “Blow them out! Blow them out!” he chanted.

  Max leaned forward with a grin, holding her hair out of the way to let go of a huge breath. Cheers and clapping rang in her ears as she made her way through the room, hugging the people who’d come to mean so much to her.

  She grabbed Joe on her way to the table where, she’d been informed, everyone had chipped in to make a potluck dinner in her honor. Max caught Joe on the cheek with a kiss. Two bright red spots appeared on his forehead. “You’re a sly one, Mr. Hodge. Thank you. This is wonderful.”

  “Be better if your young man was here, don’t you think? I extended the invite to him, but I don’t see him.”

  He was the last piece to the puzzle of an otherwise terrific night. “He’s pretty mad at me, Mr. Hodge, and he should be. I’ve not been an easy girl to love.”

  Mr. Hodge pinched her cheek. “But you sure are a purty one. Any smart guy can forgive a pretty girl. Garner’s over there, flirtin’ with Leona. Why don’t you go ask him where that boy of his is?” He shooed her away with a craggy hand.

  Max attempted to wend her way through the room amidst more hugs and cheerful well wishes, making a beeline for Garner, but Len jumped in front of her to give her a hug, paper plate of cake in her hand. “Happy re-birthday!” She chuckled. “They did some job, huh?”

  “You knew, too?”

  “Who do you think hooked them up with the cake?”

  Max’s smile beamed at her friend. “Thank you. You all did a wonderful job. But I’m on a mission. I need to find Campbell. Have you seen him?”

  Len stuffed a bite of chocolate cake in her mouth. “Nope, but his dad’s over there. C’mon. We’ll go ask him where he is.” Taking her hand, Len set down her cake and pulled Max toward Garner.

  “Maxine?”

  She whirled to the tune of a semi-familiar voice and smiled when she saw whom the voice was attached to. “Adam, right? Adam Baylor. Len and I were just talking about you.” Daring Len to say otherwise, she took his hand to shake.

  His eyebrow rose as he perused Len’s face. “Actually, it’s Adam Baylor Crestwall, and if I may, I’d like to talk to you. Privately.” He handed her a business card, pointedly giving Len an expression of unfiltered anger.

  Len’s face shattered, and Max noted she didn’t even bother to hide it. “You can say whatever you have to say in front of Len, Adam. We have no secrets.”

  In what Max would’ve considered a petty move if Len hadn’t behaved like such an ass toward Adam, he turned his back to her friend and gazed down at Max. “Your mother-in-law was Dorothy Cambridge, correct?”

  He’d caught her off guard. “She was . . .”

  “My father, Wyatt Crestwall, was her attorney. He handled her last will and testament.”

  Max shot him a confused look. “Okay.”

  His expression was of shame, but direct and intense as though he was internally battling with something. “Look, there’s no other way to say this, and my apologies in advance. My father aided your husband, Finley Cambridge, in stealing a rather large sum of money from you and your son, Connor. Dorothy Cambridge left you a handsome trust fund to be managed by you at your discretion in the event you would need financial security apart from your husband.”

  The wind was knocked right out of her. Her hand went to her stomach while her head reeled. Dorothy had known. She’d known . . . “I don’t understand,” was the most in the way of coherence Max could muster.

  “Would you like to sit down?”

  Leaning against Len, Max shook her head. “No, thank you. Just explain how this happened.”

  “My father was an unscrupulous man, Maxine. The technicalities of what he did might be difficult to explain to you in terms of the law. The simple answer is my father, Wyatt Crestwall, aided your husband in altering documents that would have left you and your son Connor a good portion of Dorothy’s estate. My father’s dead now, but just before he passed, he revealed to me he’d been a party to some dealings I can’t, even knowing my father as I do, believe he participated in. I’ve been trying to make some of those wrongs right since his death. And don’t misunderstand my father’s confession.” Adam’s voice was bitter but resolute. “This wasn’t to ensure his place somewhere divine. It was to pay your husband back for some offense we may never know about or understand. He left me a clue or two, but I’ve been here in Riverbend, trying to put the pieces together. I’ve finally got all the proof you need to take Finley Cambridge to court and reclaim what’s rightfully yours.”

  Max was too stunned to speak, but Len wasn’t. She poked Adam in the arm with an angry finger. “All this time you were here to help Maxine and you didn’t say a word to me?”

  Adam tilted his head with an arrogant slant, his eyes distant. “As I recall, you said as long as I wasn’t working for Finley Cambridge, we shouldn’t get too personal. No questions asked. Your words. I obliged.”

  Max found her voice, stilted and clumsy as it was. “I need a second to—to, wait! The letter . . .”

  “Letter?” Adam inquired.

  Max grabbed his arm in her excitement. “Yes! Long story, which I’ll let Len tell you about when you two go off to duke it out a couple of rounds. Dorothy sent me a letter from the nursing home she was in, but I didn’t get it until a few weeks ago and long after her death. It all makes sense now.” A rush of grateful tears welled in her eyes. Dorothy had taken it upon herself to look out for her and Connor, gambling someday her son wouldn’t.

  And Finley wasn’t above stealing from even his mother.

  Max’s chin fell to her chest in sorrow. I’m so sorry, Dorothy, she said in silent prayer. I’m so sorry Finley hurt you, and thank you. Thank you for an answer to my prayers.

  She opened her eyes to catch Adam’s glossy business card under the light. Adam Baylor Crestwall, Divorce Attorney.

  Bingo, bitch!

  “You’re a divorce attorney?” Max fought not to shout her excitement.

  Len’s face held what could only be described as shock. “I still don’t get why you just didn’t tell me, Adam.”

  He shot her a narrow gaze. “I had to make certain my ducks were in a row before I acted. I had to have the proof before I threw out potentially false hope and accusations.” Adam turned back to Maxine with a brief
smile. “I am a divorce attorney, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you. It’ll be my way of trying to make up for this last year. I know about your situation with Mr. Cambridge. Nothing would please me more than to see him squirm. Pro bono, of course.”

  Max lunged for him, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re hired! And now, I have a man to nab. So forgive me for rushing off. Len has my number. You can call her for it when you’re ready to begin the Third World War.”

  “Take no prisoners,” Adam said with his first genuine smile of the night.

  “Thank you, Adam. Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea what this will do for my son. And now, I’m out—wish me luck.”

  Len scooped her up in another hug. “Luck, honey,” she whispered fiercely.

  “You, too,” Max whispered back, searching for Garner once more.

  She found him flirting with the very cute, compact Leona. “Mr. Barker, can I have a minute?”

  His smile was warm and so much like Campbell’s it made her heart shift. “You can have two.”

  “Do you know where Campbell is?”

  The playful expression on his face changed radically to concern. “Running some errands before packing for London. He leaves tonight.”

  Anxiety gripped her. “London?”

  “He’s considering a job there now that he’s sold that web-whatever.”

  “But he’s still here now?”

  “He is.”

  “Can I ask a huge favor of you?”

  Max sensed Garner’s hesitance, saw it in the way he stiffened his shoulders. “As long as it doesn’t involve hurting him any more. I don’t want to mess in your private affairs, but he’s hurtin’.”

  Max’s heart throbbed with regret, and hope. There was always hope. “I promise you this—if you help me, I’ll make it my mission to make him the happiest man alive.” She’d never meant anything more. Ever.

  “Your word, young lady?”

  Gazing into his eyes, Max nodded solemnly. “My word.”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  “Can you call Campbell and find out where he is?”

  “I know where he is. He’s at the Home Depot picking me up some PVC.”

  “Can you stall him by calling him and asking him to pick something else up? Like a lot of somethings so I can catch up with him?”

  “I’m on it. Now get to gettin’!” he ordered with a smile, pulling his phone from his shirt pocket.

  Max ran as fast as her heels could carry her to the mic by the bingo table. “Can I get some sound?” she asked Joe. She tapped the mic, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “Everyone, listen up! First, thank you for this lovely party. I can’t tell you how special and important it is to me that each of you is sharing this day with me. I am reborn, and that’s thanks in part to you. Now as part of my rebirth, I have one thing left to do, and it means cutting out on you. I have a man to catch,” she crowed into the mic.

  Cheers once more erupted, followed by fists punctuating the air.

  “So are you all with me? I need lots of good vibes!”

  “Go get ’em!” someone shouted.

  Max handed the mic to Joe Hodge, who gave her a quick squeeze of her hand before saying, “Don’t take no for an answer.”

  She smiled, hoping it showed the confidence she wasn’t feeling. “Show no mercy,” she replied on a giggle.

  Grabbing her purse, Max borrowed her mother’s keys and zoomed out the rec center door.

  With any luck, she was heading right toward a big chunk of her future.

  At the Home Depot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Note from Max Cambridge to all ex-trophy wives: Love the second time around doesn’t come without its share of compromises, nor, when it happens, is it always in the ideal location. None of that matters when you’re chasing down the love of your life. Do not be shy when it comes to going after what your heart truly wants. Use your outdoor voice if you have to to get your point across. If you must, bring heavy artillery to immobilize your intended. Wait. Forget I said that. Just wear comfortable sneakers, and remember, a princess in the process of sucking it up is a warrior princess!

  “Divorce attorney. Care to explain?” Len spewed the moment she could catch up with Adam outside in the parking lot.

  “About as much as you did,” Adam shot back.

  “Okay. Let’s halt the back and forth and let me get this out before you rush off in an angry cloud of Mercedes. Which is quite an upgrade from the Ford Escort you were driving around a couple of weeks ago.”

  His grin was sheepish. “It was on order and didn’t come in until just this week. I had to drive something. Nice, right?”

  “How could you have never let something so important cross your lips, Adam? Maxine’s my best friend. You might not have known a lot about me, but you knew what Finley was doing to her.”

  “I did.”

  “Then why didn’t you go to Maxine to begin with?”

  “I thought Lacey was Maxine when I came into the picture. I couldn’t figure out how a woman so young had a son Connor’s age. The first time I saw her she was with you—at the mall. Then I thought you were Maxine—so I followed you around until I found out you weren’t Maxine at all.”

  “And you kept following me,” Len stated, hope rearing its head. There must have been a reason he kept following her, right? She burrowed deeper into her jacket. “So why did you keep following me?”

  “You were a link to Maxine.”

  More hope crept in, and she fought a smile. “Okay, so why didn’t you just tell me from the start you wanted to help Maxine?”

  “At first I didn’t tell you because you are Lacey’s sister, Len. How was I to know you wouldn’t tip her off and blow this before I had a chance to set things right? I didn’t know about your disapproval until I heard you tell her to never call you again unless she got rid of Finley.”

  Len conceded with a sharp nod. “Okay, fair enough, but why not later on in the game?”

  “Look, I’m a lawyer. I don’t make a move without having my facts straight. It took some time and some digging to find the proof I needed to be sure Maxine wouldn’t end up disappointed. I had to be sure before I went all bull in a china shop. Besides, if you’ll recall, you barely let me speak two words to you before we were in bed. The only talking we did was of the dirty variety. That was your edict—your prereq for our meetings.”

  God, how she’d come to regret those rules. “I was a real bitch.”

  “You won’t hear any denial from me.”

  As Len’s mind raced, a fact Adam had revealed hit her with the sudden blunt force of a fist to her stomach. “Your father . . . I’m so sorry, Adam.”

  His eyes were clear of pain. “Don’t be. He was a ruthless, cruel man. I came to terms with that a long time ago, Len. I had a terrific mother. One a lot like Maxine, who worked three jobs to support us. I became a divorce attorney because of what my father did to my mother and me in their divorce. My mother was a Vegas showgirl. He married her when she was twenty-two and he was forty, then divorced her when she was thirty-eight for another Vegas showgirl who was nineteen. He left us with nothing, too. I know where Maxine is, but she won’t be there for long when I get my hands on Finley Cambridge.”

  Len’s sigh was riddled with sadness. “So you get it.”

  “Damn right I get it, and my goal is to clean up as much of the shady dealings he left as his legacy as possible.”

  “You have no idea what this means to my friend,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much this will help Connor.”

  “I think I do.” Adam turned to leave without looking back.

  So it’s now or never, sister. “You have no idea . . .” Len cleared her throat so her voice would be strong and sure. “You have no idea how sorry I am that I didn’t let you in.”

  Adam stopped, but he didn’t turn around, his back stiff in the glow of the full moon.

  She moved closer, avoiding the patch of
ice after last night’s early frost. “You have no idea how sorry I am that I treated you so badly.”

  Still, Adam kept his back to her, but she reached a hand out, ignoring the tightening of his muscles. “I’m not pregnant.” What a relief to say that out loud to the one person who deserved most to hear the truth.

  She stepped in front of him, planting her feet firmly on the slippery pavement. “I’m premenopausal, and I had a mild case of food poisoning. It really was the tuna.” She glanced up from beneath hooded lashes. “So no babies, just hot flashes, chin hair, and wild hormonal swings. Yay, right?”

  “Yay,” was his bland offering.

  “My husband didn’t just die either. But you know that, I’m sure. He was sick for a very long time. Cancer. Due to some bad financial investments, he was also broke when he . . . Gerald committed sui—suicide,” she blurted. “And the one person in the world I always counted on, the man I thought was the strongest person I knew left me. Just like that.”

  Adam softened, cupping her chin. “And it hurt so much you decided you never wanted to do this again.”

  “I felt betrayed. I had no idea we had no money. I let Gerald handle everything. He did leave me a little something—in an offshore account. It was how I started Belle’s Will Be Ringing. His suicide left me feeling out of control. Of my life, of my financial status—of everything. I promised myself that would never happen again.”

  “And I make you feel out of control.”

  She licked her lips. Just say it. “Ye—yes, and I began to feel things I thought I could only feel for Gerald. Then I began to feel things for you I never felt for Gerald. It was like betraying his memory.”

  “You felt guilty.”

  “I did.”

  “And you don’t anymore?”

  “No. Gerald was a kind man, a good man. He’d never approve of me letting an opportunity slip away if it involved a chance for my happiness. So, if you’re still willing, I’d like to show you that.”

  “Would you show me over dinner? Like in a public place?”

  Len grinned wide, the hard pounding of her heart easing. “Is this dutch or are you buying, Mr. Fancy Divorce Attorney?”