by Maria Geraci
“What possible motivation could he have for that? And besides, why would anyone believe anything that loser says? He’s just trying to stir up trouble.”
“He claims that, as city manager, he was looking out for the city’s best interests. And his motivation for confessing the whole thing? He’s found Jesus.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“I agree, that’s why my firm hired an investigator. But so far it all adds up. Earl’s nurse, Deedee, confirmed in a written statement that Earl was agitated about his will and that he talked about wanting to change it up. And the local doctor has a record of paying Earl a house call during the time period all this occurred and in his notes he says that Earl was lucid on those days.”
“Vince Palermo has got to be behind this,” Jenna said.
“There’s no record of any communication between Palermo or Wentworth in jail or any other time. I already checked that out, too.”
“Aren’t you Mr. Thorough? Sorry, but I don’t buy it.”
He actually agreed with her. In his line of work, he’d had to learn to read people quickly and Palermo and Wentworth were as crooked as they came, but he couldn’t talk crap about his clients. Not even to her.
“My case isn’t the strongest, but I can definitely tie the city up in court for years. In the end, nobody’s going to win except the lawyers.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “That’s why I’m going to propose that the city compromise with Vince and Nora. We split the beachfront property in half. Nora gets her fair share of her father’s estate, and the city benefits too. There’s no nasty, dragged-out legal battle and everyone wins.”
“And you make a nice fat commission without much work.” Her blue eyes narrowed like she just thought of something. “Wait a minute. Doesn’t Earl’s will state that the land is to be used solely for public access? Even if the city wanted to give Nora half the land, wouldn’t she be forced to respect the conditions her daddy put in that will? Which means she wouldn’t be able to sell it for a profit.”
She was sharp. It was one of the many things he found so attractive about her.
“Have you actually read the will?” he asked.
“Not word for word. It’s kind of long,” she admitted, “but Pilar knows what she’s doing.”
“I agree. Pilar is a good attorney. And normally, you’d be right. When someone specifies in their will that they want a resource such as land to be used for a specific function then the benefactors are under an obligation to respect the deceased’s wishes.”
“Why do I have the feeling you’re about to pull an ace out of your sleeve?” she muttered.
“Earl was a smart old dude. He had a clause put in his trust that stated if his benefactor, in this case the city of Whispering Bay, was under any financial strain they could choose to use the resource anyway they saw fit, as long as fifty percent of the gift went for the original intention. Financial strain is a bit hard to prove or disprove, so basically the city is free to give Nora half the land. If they want to, that is.”
“So that’s where you got the fifty-fifty split idea from. You certainly tied all that up nice and neat, didn’t you?”
The server came by with their bill. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.
Ben looked to Jenna.
“No,” she said glumly.
He paid the bill and stood to help her out of her seat. Neither of them said anything till they reached the parking lot. Moonlight combined with the gentle sounds of water lapping against the shore made the scene below too tempting to ignore. It was like something out of a bad seduction plot. Although he fully expected her to say no, he still had to try.
“There’s a nice breeze coming up from the gulf. Want to take a walk on the beach?”
* * *
A walk on the beach sounded…romantic.
Don’t do it! But she couldn’t let tonight end on that little moral victory of his. He thought they could split the land fifty-fifty and everyone would end up winning. Not on her watch, baby.
She slipped off her heels. “Okay. A walk sounds good.”
They took the boardwalk down toward the sand. It might have been nighttime, but it was still muggy. Pretty soon her hair was going to take a trip to crazy town. She took the long strands and began twisting it into a knot.
He gently pulled her hands from her hair. “Don’t,” he said. “Keep it down.”
“In about five minutes, I’m going to start looking like a Chia Pet.”
“I happen to like Chia Pets.” The intimate tone in his voice made all the protective cylinders in her brain fire at once.
“What do you think of the beach?” she asked.
He looked suspicious by her change in topic. “The beach is beautiful.”
“Not when Ted Ferguson and his development company overrun the shoreline with condos.”
“So we’re back to that again?”
“You better believe it.”
“It’s called progress, Jenna. And if the city takes our offer, there’s still going to be a lot of undeveloped beaches left for public access. Whispering Bay would have the best of both worlds. Miles of beautiful, unspoiled beaches and the commercial and residential development that creates jobs and widens your tax base.”
“Oh, you’re good. But I guess you probably know that already.”
She immediately felt herself flush. Great rat balls of fire. That little double entendre hadn’t exactly been planned. Even in the dark, she could see the amused expression on his face. Why did she always feel like an unsophisticated ninny around this man?
“What I meant to say is—”
“I know what you meant. You think I’m feeding you a load of bullshit.”
“Your words, not mine. But, yeah. After tonight, my bullshit meter is pretty much on overload.”
“If you keep an open mind then you have to admit that accepting Nora’s offer to split the land is a total win-win for everyone involved.”
“I think we both know it’s not really what Earl Handy wanted.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. There’s no way of knowing for sure. But you have to agree a compromise makes the most sense.”
Damn it. She didn’t want him to sound so logical. “Makes the most sense for you, you mean.”
“My God, were you always this stubborn?”
“I’ve gotten better with age.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I don’t want to talk business anymore. Here’s the deal. I’m single, and you’re single, and for some insane reason, the universe has thrown the two of us together again.”
“What’s that got to do with—”
He reached out and pulled her against him. Before she could get another word in, he brought his mouth down over hers.
She should pull away. Or better yet, slap him.
But she’d never slapped anyone before and, God, he smelled divine.
She met his tongue, kissing him back with an urgency that stunned her. Everything about the kiss felt completely natural. As if it had been a foregone conclusion before the night had even started.
Then his hands came down to cup her bottom, pressing his erection—
“Oh.” She broke off the kiss and stared at him because, really, where had all that come from? One minute they were discussing Earl Handy’s will and the next they were making out.
“Let’s go back to your place,” he said, his voice warm and husky against her ear.
He’d lost his mind if he thought they were going to pick up where they’d never really left off. She fisted her hands on her hips. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll say afterward, because I can definitely promise you more than a five-minute warm-up.”
Of all the conceited…
She should have slapped him. She should…
Ask him why he never called you.
Her eighteen-year-old self with the bruised ego wanted to know what happened thirteen
years ago, but the woman she was today wouldn’t allow it. Besides, what did it matter anyway? Yes, tonight had been a surprise. He’d made her angry. He’d made her laugh. He’d made her feel things she hadn’t felt in years. Pilar was right. There was definitely chemistry between them. A lot of chemistry. But she would never allow herself to be anyone’s one-night stand. Not ever again.
“Sorry, but you and me? That’s not going to happen.”
“Then why did you kiss me back?” he demanded.
Good question. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “I was just being polite.”
He looked like he was going to laugh. Or possibly even kiss her again. Which, no.
“We need to keep things strictly professional. Which means no kissing. And no more cozy dinners either. I’m serious, Ben.”
That last part must have sunk in, because his expression went blank. Good.
Neither of them said anything on the walk back to the restaurant parking lot.
He waited with her while the valet brought up her car. “For what’s it worth, I’m sorry, Jenna.”
It was the second time tonight he’d apologized. Was he sorry for what happened thirteen years ago? Sorry for tonight? Sorry for whatever was going to happen in the future? She didn’t ask because she didn’t want to know.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said, trying to maintain some modicum of politeness between them.
He nodded curtly, then held the car door open for her.
Jenna’s hands shook a little as she put the key into the ignition. Obviously the walk along the beach had been a big mistake on her part. Ben was going to be in town for a month and Whispering Bay was small enough that she might run into him occasionally, but there was no reason for the two of them to ever be alone again. She’d just have to make certain of that.
Chapter Nine
Pat Harrison sat down on the living room couch as if she expected it to swallow her whole. “I hope you didn’t buy this place.”
Ben tried to tamp down his impatience, but by the look on his mother’s face, you’d think he’d brought her to a rat-infested slum instead of a multi-million-dollar house sitting on one of the country’s most beautiful beaches.
“This is a vacation home, Mom, so no, I didn’t buy it.”
But I could if I wanted to.
Compared to the luxury homes owned by the other partners at the firm, he lived in a relatively modest two-bedroom condo. The Mercedes and the designer suits were a must (old man Martinez insisted that the attorneys in the firm look the part), but other than that, Ben had been painfully frugal with his personal expenses.
Despite his mother’s protests, he paid all her bills and every three months he’d offer to buy her a new house which she would then promptly refuse. But with Rachel now permanently in the picture, she had to understand there was absolutely no way he’d allow his mother to continue living in the trailer where he’d grown up.
He pulled a brochure from his briefcase. “This is a planned community with brand new four- and five-bedroom homes just a twenty-minute drive from my office. You can pick any model you want. Top of the line appliances, hardwood floors, swimming pool, fenced in backyard. You name it.”
She studied the brochure with a mixture of fascination and horror. Mostly horror. “This is where you want us to live?” She squinted at the lines beneath one of the photos. “Oh my Lord. I could buy all of Hopalinka for what it costs to live here.”
“Where are your reading glasses, Mom?”
“Oh, phooey, I don’t need glasses to read.”
She’d needed reading glasses for the past ten years but she refused to wear them. She thought they made her look old. But Pat Harrison didn’t need glasses to make her look older than her fifty-two years. Decades of working double shifts and not taking care of herself had done that already.
He would give anything to reverse time for her. Back to when she was still young enough to make good choices. She’d gotten pregnant at sixteen, dropped out of high school and shacked up with his sperm-donor. Two months before Ben was born, she’d come home from her job at the convenience store to find their trailer stripped of anything that hadn’t been nailed to the floor. You’d think his mother would have learned her lesson, but a couple of years later, it was another loser. Then another and another.
Until she’d met Jake’s dad. Loser wasn’t a strong enough word for Curtis Dillon. Ben had only been nine when Curtis had moved in with them, but he’d grown up fast in those short four months. Curtis was a drunk. And not the kind that got nicer when he was boozed up.
Ben would lie awake at night listening to the sounds of Curtis slapping his mother around. Every night he’d go to bed praying that when he woke up, Curtis would be gone, but that little miracle never panned out. One day Ben came home from school to find his mom still in bed with two black eyes and a swollen lip. God didn’t help nine-year-old boys who hid under the covers while some drunk beat the shit of their mother, but maybe he’d help one who took matters into his own hands.
That night when Curtis stumbled into the trailer stinking of beer, Ben was waiting for him with a suitcase in his hand. “Here’s your stuff. Now get out of here.” His heart was pounding so fast he was sure that Curtis could hear it exploding out of his chest.
“Where’s your mom?” he slurred. “I’m horny, if you get my drift.”
The overwhelming stench of sweat and liquor, combined with fear of what this grown man could do to him, nearly made Ben vomit, but he managed to stand his ground. “I said, get. Nobody wants you here anymore.”
“Who’s gonna make me?” Curtis laughed. “You?”
With a shaky hand, Ben showed him the kitchen knife he’d been hiding behind his back. “Yeah, me.” Up till now he hadn’t known whether or not he’d have the courage to actually use it, but if this man laid a hand on his mother again, then yes, he could use it.
“Tell Pat to get her skinny ass out here now before I toss you all around this trailer.”
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on my son.” There was an edge of steel in his mother’s voice Ben had never heard before.
They both turned to find her holding a gun. Ben didn’t know who was more surprised. Him or Curtis. He didn’t even know his mother kept a gun in the trailer. He found out later that it belonged to one of the previous losers who’d left it behind.
This time, Curtis didn’t laugh. “Put the gun down, you stupid bitch.”
“Not…not until you leave.” She pointed the gun straight at Curtis’s head. Her eyes cut to Ben’s. “Call 911.”
Ben picked up the kitchen phone. There was no ring tone, signaling that the phone was dead, probably because the bill hadn’t been paid, but he punched the numbers in anyway and pretended there was someone on the other end of the line. He requested help and hung up quickly before Curtis could grab the phone and discover that no one was coming.
Luckily, Curtis bought the fake 911 call, because he finally began to look nervous. “Aw, Pat, baby, we don’t need no cops. When they come you tell them there’s been a mistake.”
“Either you leave right now or I’ll…I’ll shoot.”
His face screwed up into an ugly sneer. “You dumb cow. Fine. I was outta here anyway at the end of the week.” He plucked the suitcase from Ben’s hand. “So long, kid.” Curtis made a motion to leave, but instead he turned around and backhanded him, sending him sprawling onto the living room floor.
Ben had gotten into a couple of schoolyard fights with boys his own age, and he’d always held his own, but the searing pain shooting through his skull was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
“Ben!” his mother screamed. The gun teetered dangerously in her hands.
“I’m okay,” he said, getting up as quickly as the dizziness would allow. The last thing they needed was for his mother to panic and actually shoot this guy.
Curtis grinned in satisfaction. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you, you arrogant little prick.” Then
he winked at his mother and sauntered out the door.
She dropped the gun and grabbed Ben into her arms. “Are you all right?”
Ben nodded against his mother’s chest, hopeful that she wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m okay, Mom. Really.”
She hugged him tighter than she’d ever held him before in his life. “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise, that will never happen again.”
He sent up a silent prayer hoping that she meant it.
It turned out, she did. After that, there were no other men. A couple of weeks after Curtis left, Mom told him she was having a baby. “It’ll be all right,” she said, seeing the worried look on his face. “I have a good job at the Stop and Go. Carl says he’s finally going to promote me to assistant manager.”
Ben tried to give her a reassuring smile, mainly because he didn’t want her to see how worried he was. She worked twelve hour days, sometimes even double shifts. Who was going to watch the baby while he was in school and she was at work?
Later that night, he snuck into her room and found the worn-out address book she kept in the top drawer of her nightstand. He’d never met his grandparents. He’d never even talked to them, but they had to want to help. Right?
After school he walked to a pay phone and dialed the number. An operator’s voice cut in and told him how much money he’d need for the call to go through. When he hesitated, she suggested he call collect.
After a few rings, a woman answered the phone. “Hello.”
“Collect call from Ben Harrison,” said the operator.
“Who?” Her voice sounded pinched and cold.
“I’m your grandson,” Ben said.
There was a pause. His palms were slick with nervous sweat, making the receiver nearly slip from his grasp.
“I don’t have a grandson. So whoever you are, don’t call again.” Then she hung up.
“I’m sorry,” the operator said kindly, “but the call isn’t accepted.”
“That’s okay. I was just going to prank call the old witch anyway,” he lied. He slammed down the receiver and ran all the way home in tears, hoping that none of his friends from school would see his disgrace. That evening when his mom came home from work he had dinner waiting. Mac and cheese and hot dogs (his favorite). Then he cleaned up the kitchen and put out the garbage.
