“Jake.” George shook his hand. “Please, take a seat.” George pulled his hand back, used it to motion them in.
The scarring on George’s face, his neck, caused Allie to recall that George had returned to private practice following an explosion his last tour in Iraq. She looked up, thanked Gladys, who’d slipped in with a tray of coffee while everyone got settled, then left, closing the door behind her. Jake poured himself a cup then took the seat beside her, exuding strength and support.
George shot her a straight to business smile. “First of all Allie, after going over your late husband’s estate, I find there are several items to be discussed, several decisions to be made.” George skated a gaze to Jake, then back again. “This is rather sensitive material; would you prefer privacy?”
“Actually, I would rather Jake stayed.” She smiled to convey a confidence she didn’t feel. No way was she tackling this solo.
“No problem.” The smile, the nod, were probably meant to reassure, but were gone before they took. George tapped the papers on the right side of the open folder. He picked up the first document, weighed it, leafed through it. “I have here your late husband’s current will, along with copies of insurance policies. Your late husband, um… Ben, was very thorough. He made certain I had easy access to all his important papers, in case of a situation such as this.”
Allie seethed. Who was George to repeatedly refer to Ben as late? Ben wasn’t late for anything. He was dead. Never going to show up again. Permanently.
George cleared his throat. “I’ll go through the will first.”
Her anxiety eased even as he listed the details of each of her major assets—some held in trust and some not. He persisted relentlessly about community property, and probate, which should not be an issue because of the careful way Ben constructed his affairs.
“Do you have any questions?”
Confusion was probably etched on her face. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
He laid the will face down and selected the next document, paused to pour himself a cup of coffee, add exactly one tablespoon of cream, and suck in a sip. “Moving on to your late husband’s insurance policies.” George flicked the sheaf of papers in his hand. “There are several.”
He soldiered on, detailing coverage, expounded the benefit as well as the terms, and then the accidental death rider, which would double the benefit of the policy. She, Alexandra Harper Tate, was named his sole beneficiary.
George laid the paperwork face down on top of the will and lifted the next document. Allie raised her eyes to George, her hand securely ensconced in Jake’s much larger palm.
George lifted the next document—a secondary life insurance policy he clarified upon sight of her furrowed brow. He forged ahead, detailed the policy and explained that, again there was a rider doubling the benefit in the event of accidental death. Before the question could form he continued, marching forward in true military fashion. “The beneficiary of this policy is a son, Bentley Logan Tate the third.”
Her heart quickened. “Trey.”
Jake gave her hand a squeeze.
George added those papers to the discard pile and reached for the next set. He was not yet finished. This was a major medical policy, with limits adequate to cover any of Ben’s medical expenses not covered by their health insurance, effectively leaving her with no out-of-pocket expenses. George set this last policy with the others he already read.
Jake squeezed her hand again and cast her a small smile when she turned to him. The information overwhelmed her, but her greatest fears were erased. Her son’s life would not be disrupted by hardship and they would not be leaving their home any time soon. Ben provided well for his family, but the price they all paid was high.
George seemed to have finished with Allie. Jake spoke up. “About the paperwork I asked to have completed?”
“Yes, I believe it should be ready. Let me check, save you both a trip back to the office.” He reached for his cane, hobbled from the room.
Allie let them settle, the words, the reassurances. Stood and wandered the room, her eyes skimming the burgundy leather bindings of reference books lining two walls, caught the light of relief on Jake’s face. The corners of her mouth pulled outward even as her eyebrows lowered. “I had no idea.”
“Your life can be as easy as you want now.” He reached for the coffee, topped off his cup. Replaced the pot when she declined a refill with a shake of her head. “What do you want to do first? Vacation in Europe, purchase a new car. Perhaps a small island?”
He laughed when her eyes widened, then crinkled with a grin that faded as the doorknob rattled. George entered the room, a short stack of papers folded into the crook of an elbow. As he settled himself in his seat he pushed Ben’s folder aside and addressed Jake. “Before we start with the corporate amendments, let me go over this final life policy.” He pulled a small binder from the middle of the pile, resumed his elucidation. “Are you familiar with it? It’s term policy, naming the corporation as beneficiary.”
“Sure. Seems like it’s somewhere around two hundred grand. We each had one.”
“Well, no. No.” Now it was Jake’s turn to narrow his eyes. His gaze flew to Allie at the window, then back again when George spoke. “Five years ago, Ben brought new policies in to my office. Said your company was larger, financially sound. He wanted to protect it, so he added coverage. You would have signed paperwork.”
Jake dug into his memory, recalled papers shoved across his desk, a vague explanation about insurance. He’d signed by the red ‘X’ and shoved them back with barely a glance. They were just starting site work for Canto del Agua at the time; the details of the seven mammoth waterfalls scattered among the commercial pads were a bitch. “The specifics are sketchy, and honestly, I didn’t pay attention to what I signed.”
George frowned. “The benefit is a million dollars, Jake. With an accidental death rider that doubles it.”
Jake’s jaw dropped. Damn if Ben hadn’t covered their asses again. Now it was definite—Ben’s share went to Allie. There wasn’t much he could do for her right now, but he could do this.
His mind reeled as George pulled out the corporate docs, explained, answered questions, assured him it would take less than a month to have Ben’s name removed and Allie’s in its place.
The air conditioning clicked as it cycled on, then hummed quietly as the system blew cool air into the room. George shuffled his papers again, wrapped a thick elastic band around them, dragged Ben’s folder closer.
“What’s that?” Jake nodded toward a lone unopened packet on the table. Allie was emotionally drained; the last thing she needed was to return because of a forgotten file.
George seemed nonplussed, looking from one of them to the other, clearly unprepared for her question. “I’m sorry, Jake, I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“It’s another insurance policy.” There was with no tangible reason for the knotting in his gut. He snatched up the papers, slid out of his seat, crossed the room to Allie before George was out of his chair
Allie skimmed the document. The policy was similar to Trey’s, the beneficiary to receive a tidy sum upon reaching majority. She mentally clicked through the short list of Ben’s female relatives. “Who is this, Meredith Jane Wilson?”
With his cane shifted to his left hand, George relieved her of the papers. She returned to her seat, her eyes centered on George, who seemed to be waging an inner battle. Jake dropped into the chair beside her.
“She is your late husband’s child.”
Two heads snapped up in unison.
“What!?”
The rage rolled off Jake as he spit out the single word—a split second before George’s next words had her surging to her feet.
“Meredith Wilson is Ben’s daughter.” George met her eyes. “She’d be about eleven by now.”
Allie drew herself up, her hands fisted at her sides. She stared straight ahead, a coldness settling over the stone in her ches
t. Her words were deliberate, dragged from her throat. “Could you tell me, please, when this policy was taken out?”
George limped back to the table, consulted the file. “This second policy is dated six months ago.”
Six months. Bile was choked down, rose again. All the times she begged him, fought him for another baby, he refused. Because the selfish, lying, cheating bastard already had another child.
Wasn’t it odd she didn’t cry? She’d cried—did nothing but cry—for days following his death. But now—no, now there were no tears. Her heart was hollow. The man she lived with—and loved, dammit—had slept with another woman.
Then gave that woman the one thing that meant the most to her.
The heat in Jake’s gaze seared her but she refused to look at him as he stood beside her. Perhaps her world wasn’t the only one shifted on its axis. But then again, he and Ben were close. She was betrayed by his best friend—there was no way he didn’t know about it.
In the elevator to the ground floor, through the double glass doors of the building and onto the sidewalk she remained stoic. Jake halted before they reached the parking garage, grabbed her forearm. “Allie, stop. Let’s go someplace. Talk about this.”
She could only offer him a terse nod. “First Base.” The sports bar was just up the street.
She ordered iced tea and—at Jake’s insistence—a grilled chicken sandwich. She sat across from him in their quiet booth, reeling from mental whiplash as her mind relived the past few hours.
A bell tinkled softly. A shaft of sunlight entered through the opening door, dust motes hanging loose, trapped in the glare. A small family appeared through the murky brightness, glancing around for an empty table. A young girl skipped over the bright linoleum. The man caught a pudgy hand in his own, slowing her progress.
“Stay with Daddy, Karen.” Evidently, the girl was his daughter.
She, Allie, didn’t have a daughter.
But Ben had a daughter.
The odor of old grease tickled her nose, mixed with the sizzle of cold meat as it was slapped onto a hot grill. Allie squeezed lemon into her tall plastic tumbler. Complete thoughts were elusive. Stringing words together in a logical, comprehensible order was a struggle. In the end she gave up, simply lifted her eyes to Jake. “Talk.”
Staring at his hands, Jake white-knuckled the edge of the table, his mouth set in a grim line. He glanced away, out the window at a woman passing by, then back to her. “I knew he was with someone.” His admission was wrung from somewhere deep. Was it from hurt or anger? Or possibly guilt? “Way back then.” He paused and she was silent, waiting for him to continue. He met her eyes. “I don’t know who she was. Only that she was divorced, her son was on a team with Trey.” He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Picked up his tea and gulped.
She looked away, focused on the pennants, the framed jerseys lining the wall to let some of the anger slide away, then pinned him with a still-unrelenting glare. “Everything, Jake.”
He lowered his glass to the scarred Formica in mottled blue and shook his head. “That’s all I know.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s the only time we’ve ever fought in our whole lives.” He lifted his glass again and took a long drink, watched her from over the rim. “He said he didn’t love her, barely knew her; it just… happened. It was only one time.”
It hit Allie that she knew the woman, probably spoke with her. Maybe she was a friend. She remained mute in her seat, absorbing the details, each word burning white-hot inside her until finally she spoke, each word spit out with deliberate harshness. “I just learned that the man I lived with for fifteen years, who refused to have any more children with me, did exactly that with another woman. Do you think I want to hear excuses?”
Jake dropped his forearms to the table, leaned forward, spit out, “Christ, Allie. I’m not making excuses for the prick; I’m telling you what I know. Like I said, we fought. I asked him what the hell he was doing, did he realize everything he was throwing away. Anything I could say to a guy about to screw up his whole life.” Jake slammed back against the booth, his voice a low growl. “He swore it was over.”
Her eyes were hot; her words dripped ice. “Apparently not.”
As their lunch arrived it occurred to her that this was a whole new Allie. Allie the Bitch. Not a person she liked at all.
Flashbacks played over, over again, screaming to be heard. I need you to know how much I love you… how much you mean to me. You both have made me so happy… the happiest man in the world. And then, But mostly, I’m so damned sorry.
She forked a tomato slice onto the bun and stabbed Jake with her eyes. “Tell me about the girl.”
He shook his head. His eyes sought her gaze, held it. “I heard about her the same time you did. He never mentioned her.”
She searched his troubled eyes. The truth was undeniable. The selfish, lying, cheating bastard was someone he didn’t know either.
“I don’t want Trey to know about this.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
She stared out the window, saw nothing. Her rage, once so bright, had forged itself into a glowing white ember, branding her heart.
“You don’t really plan to die.” It startled her that the word came easier already. It was heavy, though, and echoed as if hauled from a deep cavern. “I wonder how all this would have played out if he had more time.”
“He had nearly ten years, Allie.” Her eyes flew to his at the sharp reminder. “I keep thinking that I should have been more aware of what Ben did.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, over the short hair on his head. “Maybe I got too involved with the projects. He never said anything though.”
“This has brought a few things into perspective for both of us.” And didn’t that understate the matter considerably? “I went to school; I took care of Trey, Ben, the house. The rest I took for granted.” The anger flared again, this time accompanied by guilt, all directed inward. “The more I think of what he did, I’m ashamed.” She’d remained composed at the attorney’s office, and up until a moment ago, but she gave in to tears now, let embarrassment and humiliation intensify her grief.
The server came to refill their tea. Allie turned away, wiped her eyes with her napkin. When she was gone Jake reached across the table and took Allie’s hand, curled his fingers around hers on the cool table top.
“No need for shame, Allie. You didn’t know. I think he didn’t tell you because he did love you—you and Trey.” Jake’s glanced skipped around the room—the diner was busier now, the buzz of the lunch crowd rising and falling around them. His eyes drifted back to Allie. “It was what he did to take care of his family. He would have done anything in the world for you two.”
That night she thought back over her conversation with Jake. The steel trap was still locked around her icy heart, but her brain was ready to process the alarming revelations.
For his own reasons her selfish, lying, cheating bastard husband turned to another woman rather than ride out a black time in their marriage. Did he love the woman? Did he really end their affair? The facts did not throw a favorable light on her husband. Looking back with a suspiciousness borne of betrayal, chunks of time were now haunted by great big question marks emblazoned on them in red.
She made it easy for him to cover his tracks. Took the easy way out when he offered to manage their finances. Or did he insist? Who could remember after so many years? Either way, she didn’t want to do it back then, and still had no interest.
He played cards with the same group of guys for longer than she could remember, but somehow it was never Ben’s turn to host poker night. Allie blithely accepted his reasoning that Joe and Steve, both men she couldn’t pick out of a lineup, owned large homes with green baize tables already in place. Ben would need to rearrange furniture to squeeze a pair of card tables into their living room. Sick, she recalled several times she shoved a hot appetizer or a twelve pack into his hands as he left the house.
Conjecture was pointl
ess. Even so, how would this have played out? Would she have found out at some point? Would there at last, at some point in the future, have been a tell-tale clue that would have broken through her naiveté? A hotel receipt? The wrong name uttered in the heat of passion? It was all so cliché.
An affair that lasted nearly as long as his marriage. It was bizarre to say the least, nearly beyond comprehension. And though it galled her, she was at least thankful he took care of his daughter.
Memories floated to the surface. Business trips—trade shows, conventions. Did Jake go as well? Her thoughts shifted, chasing an obscure conclusion. The Christmas Ben ran out for whipped cream—Trey was eight that year, he’d played Rudolph in the school program the week before. Ben was gone for hours and seemed especially quiet the rest of the day. Was he really gone so long because nothing was open? And finally, the Tuesday nights. Poker with the guys. Why wasn’t Jake a part of that? How many of those nights did her husband come home late and hold her in the dark, smelling as fresh as when he left, proclaiming his undying love? Allie dragged in a breath, blew it out.
Damn his selfish, lying, cheating bastard heart.
Still riding the emotional roller coaster that was her day, hope and relief lifting her temporarily from her grief only to plunge her to new depths of pain and betrayal, she was more than chagrined that she did not know more about the business end of running a household. No matter how disagreeable the chore, it now fell squarely on her shoulders.
She now had a new life, this life that was dumped on her, and she needed to learn how to live it. With a nod of satisfaction she made a call, made an appointment. She would start the next afternoon.
She sat in Tom Gainey’s office and pored over investment statements like her students tackled phonics flash cards. There were money market funds, and retirement accounts. And for Trey, a big fat college fund, drawing interest and exempt from federal income tax. She gave Tom the information about Ben’s insurance policies and together they came up with a strategy for preserving her newfound wealth.
Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found) Page 12
