Mending Fences (Destined for Love: Mansions)

by Lorin Grace

  “I don’t either, but the story will die down soon.” Mandy didn’t want to discuss the current status of her life. “How is the dig? Anything new?”

  As expected, her mother launched into a detailed description of an intact tablet they believed to be of Chavín origin. Mandy only half listened. A tiny twinge of guilt nudged her for deliberately distracting her mother. But she was afraid if she mentioned the vandalism or her bodyguard, her father would abandon the dig for the first flight home.

  In two weeks she would tell them the truth.

  Two weeks was too long and not long enough.

  Daniel studied the courtroom. The second day of testimony was well underway. A sketch artist in the corner scrutinized Daniel. At least there were no cameras inside. Dodging the ones outside had been difficult enough.

  The EMT who had been punched by one of the photographers took the stand.

  Across the aisle, Summerset sat with her father. Her soft-white suit and pink blouse reminded him of someone other than the party girl he knew. It wasn’t until the single pair of pearl earrings caught the light that he realized she was trying to exude Princess Diana. If only she mimicked the late princess outside of the courtroom, he might have some peace. Of course, she was always better behaved in the presence of her father.

  The bailiff called his name.

  The assistant DA asked the standard identification questions before getting to the meat of Daniel’s testimony. “Mr. Crawford, in your own words, please tell us what led to your 911 call the afternoon of December 29 and your subsequent actions.”

  “After lunch, I took a walk in Central Park to clear my head and make some calls. As I was returning to the hotel, I saw Miss Vandemark exiting. As always, there were a dozen or more photographers around. Miss Vandemark appeared to be more animated than usual. About the time I reached the corner, she collapsed. Someone yelled, ‘She’s not breathing!’ and several of the photographers surged forward. The doorman tried to get them to move back. I dialed 911 and gave the pertinent info, then attempted to get through the crowd to her.”

  The lawyer reread his notes. “You are not a trained medic. Why did you try to reach her?”

  “Miss Vandemark suffers from asthma and usually has an inhaler with her.”

  “Were you successful in reaching her side?”

  “With the help of two of the photographers, I reached her about the time the police arrived.”

  “Which two photographers helped you?” The lawyer gestured to the courtroom.

  Daniel pointed to Vic. “This one, Vic Jamison, whom I’ve met on occasion, and the taller man there with the gray sideburns, whose name I did not know at the time.”

  “Were you able to locate Miss Vandemark’s inhaler and assist her?”

  “Yes and no. The contents of her bag had spilled, and someone had stepped on the inhaler and broken it. I stood to tell the EMTs this and saw they couldn’t get through.”

  “What happened then?” The lawyer took a step toward the jury.

  “A whole lot of shouting, and me, Vic, the doorman, and the police trying to clear a path. Flashes going off, photographers still taking photos.”

  “Did you see who hit the EMT?”

  “No, but I did see him go down.”

  “How long of a delay do you estimate was caused in Miss Vandemark’s care?”

  “Including my inability to get to her bag and an intact inhaler, at least ten, maybe twelve, minutes.” As they’d agreed, he did not say anything about how the inhaler worked. There would be an expert witness for that later.

  The attorney for the defense started his questioning.

  “Mr. Crawford, did you at any time hit or push any of the photographers?”

  “I pushed my way through the crowd and photographers, but I did not use excessive force.”

  “What was Miss Vandemark wearing?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Other than locating the inhaler, did you administer any first aid to Miss Vandemark?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “One of the hotel employees was already administering first aid, and there was nothing I could do. As has been previously stated, I am not a medic.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Daniel sat down, and Vic took the stand. At the break, the assistant DA informed Daniel he would be contacted if he were needed in the courtroom again, so he hurried to meet with the realtor about an apartment

  Daniel shuffled the papers in front of him and shifted his phone to his other ear. “Thanks for looking at the contract, Morgan. I don’t want to be in the same hotel as Miss Vandemark, and I should be able to move in Thursday.”

  “You could move in tonight if you were willing to live without a bed.”

  “It’s the desk I need. Between you, Colin, and Bonnie, I haven’t had a chance to leave the hotel room since I got back last evening trying to keep up with work. I have one of those dates tonight, too, don’t I?”

  Morgan chuckled. “Not all the women we have arranged for your social calendar can fake eating bad sushi for lunch and cancel your evening plans just to get out of her contract like yesterday. At least tonight’s is to benefit a school in Haiti and you both felt that was a good cause.”

  Daniel knew he wouldn’t get another reprieve after both Monday and Tuesday night to himself. “You said you had news about the Indiana estate?”

  “I had Colin put some documents on the secure server for you regarding the Indiana property. I’ll never get the hang of all of that locking and unlocking. I didn’t want to have one of the assistants do it. There must be some leak going on. I don’t like the last offer one of the developers sent over—way too much money.”

  Daniel used the code Colin had set up last week to get into the secure folder. “There is some odd language in the original sale of the land to the Fowlers. It keeps referring to another agreement. Any idea what it’s referencing?”

  “No, but the mineral rights were retained by the Crawford estate. George Fowler sold his mineral rights to the property two years ago. The buyers must not have done their due diligence, or they would have realized the Fowlers never owned them. What is odder is that Mae Fowler deeded the home to a trust in Mandy Fowler’s name when she was sixteen, but the property was sold out of the trust weeks before Mae died, using George’s power of attorney.”

  “Have you found Mae’s will?”

  “Just the original with her husband, and he died twenty-five years ago.”

  “Something like that.”

  “I have researchers looking for the other document. Any chance your girl has anything?”

  Daniel stiffened at the reference. “I am not sure if she does. She did mention she was to inherit the house. Not that it matters now. A tornado destroyed it.”

  “Ask her. I’ll send you a copy of this latest offer.”

  “No rush. I don’t think I want to take any offers dealing with gas drilling, not without protection for some of the land.”

  “I see.”

  “It has nothing to do with Amanda.”

  “I didn’t say it did.”

  Daniel set the phone down. He had been getting offers for years now. But until this year, selling wasn’t an option due to the one-hundred-year clause. As much as he hated the mansion, he loved the property. At least twice a year he went down to have a quiet few days, but there were other places to do that. He hadn’t been as big a fool about the old mansion as Amanda believed he was. There were no leaks, and the broken windows had all been boarded up quickly. At least he hadn’t sold the house to the buyers who’d wanted to turn it into a mortuary and private cemetery.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Daniel hurried into the courthouse. The verdict came in a day earlier than expected and would be read at the top of the hour, and the assistant DA felt all the key players should be there. His phone vibrated.

  Colin: READ THE NEWS


  Morgan: Who leaked the mineral report?

  Bonnie: Don’t you dare …

  He raised his brow at the last one, turned off his phone, and tucked it into his briefcase before going through security. He would have to wait until after the verdict to figure out what was going on.

  The jury only deliberated forty minutes. It was, after all, one of those slam-dunk cases every DA wanted. Even without the testimonies, there were hundreds of subpoenaed photos from that evening, including several of the EMT’s bloodied nose. As expected, the judge made an example of the three photographers who had chosen to plead not guilty and pay the initial fine.

  One would think the paparazzi would be on their best behavior for a while, unless they happened to be exiting the courthouse. There had been fewer photographers at the last television awards banquet. Daniel turned back into the courthouse to wait them out. Unfortunately, his 180 brought him right into the arms of Summerset, who was standing on the step above him. Her mouth landed on his and her arms wrapped around him. Conscious of the narrow stairs behind him, Daniel didn’t jerk back as he removed her arms from around his neck and stepped to the side.

  Summerset gave him a pouty look. “Why, that was the worst kiss I have ever received.”

  “That would be because I didn’t kiss you.”

  The unanticipated slap landed hard enough to cause him to step back and nearly lose his balance.

  Once he’d steadied himself, he turned, plowed through the paparazzi, and hailed a cab.

  On his way to the apartment, he turned on his phone and opened the link Colin had sent him. A refinery? Never. He nodded at the doorman while still trying to read the last of the article. In the privacy of the elevator, he let out an audible groan. It wasn’t often he reached the point where he wanted to hit something. Best hide away for the rest of the day. Fortunately his social calendar showed a Thursday-night hiatus. He hoped the furniture had arrived so he could sit down and work.

  It had.

  He picked up an orange-and-purple pillow and threw it at the yellow couch. For good measure, he punched the pink chair with stainless steel trim and stomped on the flowered carpet.

  No one had warned him the decorator was colorblind.

  Thursday found Mandy at her usual 4:00 p.m. appointment with Dr. Christensen.

  He frowned at the images on his tablet. “I must say I am disappointed with this last set. A museum and a country club are solid, but they don’t stretch the imagination, do they? Not like today’s news about the refinery.”

  “Refinery?”

  Dr. Christensen reached into his blue recycle bin and pulled out the front section of the South Bend Tribune.

  Mandy read the headline twice. “May I keep this?”

  “It is a gimme, but I think you should do one with what the property would be like with a petrochemical refinery on the site.”

  Mandy half paid attention. How could Daniel do that to Hank’s great-grandson? He had promised. She should have called last night or the night before. But she didn’t know what to say. Thank him for the bodyguard or say good-bye? If she spoke to him now, she knew she would yell. What would Grandma Mae tell her to do?

  Mandy had no idea.

  She dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail.

  Mandy entered from the garage. Candace and her law-school friend were sitting at the table in a heated discussion.

  “Is it true?” Candace held up an IndyStar with the same headline as the South Bend paper.

  Mandy pulled her own out. “It’s in multiple reputable papers, it must be. I don’t think the big syndicates retract many stories. I tried to call Daniel, but it went to voicemail. I am having problems believing he would sell the land for a refinery.” She hadn’t left a message. He might see the new missed call with her area code.

  Candace tapped her legal pad. “We are planning a rally for Saturday.”

  “It will hit the news cycle better if we hold it Monday, providing anyone pays attention to my emails.” The law student looked as though he had been arguing for a while.

  “Are you in?” asked Candace.

  Mandy sorted through the mail sitting on the counter. Two envelopes from the hospital. Probably her ER bill. She opened one as she answered Candace. “With Mr. Alexander on my tail, it doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t let me anywhere near a rally. Do you know how hard it is to teach with an observer in the room and half your students lusting after him?”

  “Oh, let me guess. They wanted to use him for the live model—shirtless.” Candace giggled.

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Thankfully, my classes are not up to life drawing. Although one of the girls did manage to work him into a reflection of her still life. He kept my third hour petrified and Coach Robb from coming on to me in the teacher’s lounge.” Mandy sighed. The coach would not lay a hand on her for quite a while. The handshake Mr. Alexander had given him had stopped short of breaking bones. She had no idea what the conversation had been, but she hoped whatever was said kept him away for the rest of the school year.

  “What did Coach Handsy try this time?”

  “I was getting the mail out of my cubby, and he came up behind me. Mr. Alexander was so fast it barely registered that Coach was saying something about a ‘tight end’ and trying for one of his hands-on approaches.” Mandy paused and reread the check. “That is odd. The hospital sent me a reimbursement.”

  The law student focused on her through his thick glasses. “Have you ever filed a harassment complaint?”

  “Half the single women in the school have, but the team is winning, so we get to put up with it.” Mandy rolled her eyes before trying to read the letter from the billing department. “Have either of you ever heard of the insurance covering your deductible, too? This letter says my March ER visit has been paid in full. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Candace took the letter. “It wasn’t paid by your insurance. See the code on the copy of the bill? It is a different acronym. Looks like a third party.”

  Mandy took the letter back and stuffed the paper back in the envelope. “There must be some mistake.”

  “Back to our protest.” Candace pulled out the paper she had been doodling on. “Are you in?”

  Hank’s grandson swam across her mind. “If it is true, maybe. But I think the story needs to be verified.” Mandy focused on Candace, not wanting to break the unwritten rule of talking about other guys in front of potential boyfriend material. “I think that techy friend you have may have the connections to verify this. You should contact him.”

  Candace jotted a note on her pad.

  “As for me, I had my next picture for my MFA drop in my lap. I hadn’t thought of destroying the mansion.” She plucked a wilting rose from the bouquet and vowed to try to call Daniel again.

  “Oh, did you read the paragraph where DC turned down an offer to make it a mortuary and private cemetery?”

  “Missed that, but I did that to the old church.” Mandy hurried to her room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Candace watched over Mandy’s shoulder. “You sure you can’t toss some smoke or smog into that?”

  “I already explained that this type of refinery runs clean. There won’t be any smoke.” It had taken more time than she intended to get the refinery to completion. Part of her problem was a lack of stock photography, so she’d made most of the pipes from scratch. Consistent lighting still plagued her.

  “It sure is hideous.”

  Mandy grinned. “Anyone who sees this photo would think so. I added a few extra pipes. If you look carefully, the pipes spell out ugly. I wanted to try that whole ’70s subliminal thing.”

  “That’s it.” Candace bounced up and down, causing her periwinkle curls to dance. “We can use this for a poster!”

  “I’m not sure about that.” Mandy bit her lip. “I think that would move it to the published category, and all my works are to be unpublished so they can go up for sale to benefit the college.”

>   “Can you come up with another idea? Or another version of the refinery?”

  “I’m running out of time and ideas. I still can’t believe Daniel would sell the mansion for this.” Even if he does hate it.

  “Have you talked to him? Colin must have sent ten texts asking you to. He is having a tough time not giving Daniel your number.”

  Mandy didn’t mention the three calls that had gone to voicemail. The one voice message she started to leave was only half his name. “You saw those photos yesterday of him kissing Miss Moneybags after the verdict. He doesn’t need the girl next door.” I need to stay out of his life.

  Candace huffed. “Remember? Not everything in the tabloids is true. If it were, Daniel would be out there with an $80k camera shooting it up with the best of them.”

  “Let it go. On the bright side, I am pretty much yesterday’s news. Colin said there hasn’t been a threat to me in over twenty-four hours.”

  “When did you talk to Colin? I have tried to reach him all evening to verify the story.”

  Mandy double-checked the clock on her computer screen. “He texted before lunch. By the way, I told Colin to give Daniel my number. If Daniel is desperate to talk to me, he has a strange way of not calling.”

  Candace tipped her head. “It has only been a few hours. Maybe he is busy.”

  “Busy dating every socialite in Manhattan. Wednesday night was a date for a benefit, and he has probably left for tonight’s outing with the rich and spoiled.”

  “Are you following those fangirl sites?”

  “Not today.” Mandy hung her head. “He kisses them, too.”

  “Let me see.” Candace scooted Mandy out of the way and pulled up the browser. “That is a side-hug cheek kiss. It doesn’t count at all!”

  “If your lawyer friend gave you one of those, you would count it.”

  “That is only because I don’t think he has ever even kissed before. He can barely touch my hand without blushing. And he has yet to ask about my hair. I went through three different wigs yesterday.”