"Trolls?" Al quipped. "You mean, big hairy things are scaring up lawyers to sue you?"
Rick laughed. "Not real trolls. Patent trolls are people who sit on a patent or keep tabs on patents that failed to ever be commercially developed. Then, when something remotely similar to their patent begins to be developed, they sue for infringement. As a company that regularly develops new technology, we attract a lot of trolls."
"Well, if it is their own invention that you're infringing upon--"
"Not for trolls. Their purpose is to make money. Usually, if they see a case they know they'll win, they'll go to the inventor who actually owns the patent, make a speech and get the inventor to sell it to them cheap, then turn around and sue the infringer for millions and not give a dollar to the original owner."
"Oh, that sounds terrible!" Sophy cried. "Is there a way to stop them?"
Rick shook his head. "What they do may not be ethically or morally right, but it is legal. A lot of inventors get desperate and will sell their patent for whatever money they can get their hands on and trolls feed on that desperation. However, we CAN do something when a troll has illegally stolen an invention and is claiming it as their own. One time, I heard we busted a troll because of the printer he used."
"The printer? How would that work?"
"The troll had filed for the patent before the inventor, but he had used the papers the inventor had printed on a laser printer. Those printers include invisible marks on the paper so you can tell exactly which printer was used. The troll lost his case right there. His scheme was ruined."
"So, in this current lawsuit, did a troll steal an invention?"
"I don't know the details, sorry. All I know is that it's an important case to Darcy and you just don't talk to that man when he's angry. Oh, and that we have a new lawyer and everyone is excited since the man apparently has other connections that could help in some of our other cases."
"Like what other cases--"
His phone rang and he checked to see if it was someone important. The name of Charles Musgrove flashed on the screen and Rick caught his breath. The inventor he had wanted to see! "Sorry, I have to take this." He scrambled off the stool and hurried out of the kitchen.
"Mr. Wentworth?" A rather excited voice squeaked on the other end of the call. Then again, most inventors were overly excited when Rick called. He represented a chance for big money and possibly a whole new life if they impressed him well enough. "I just got your message--sorry for not catching it earlier. We don't have the best cell reception out here."
Not enough cell reception? Rick didn't think that was possible for a state as small as Rhode Island. The place must be incredibly remote.
"But if you're still interested," the man continued, "I'd be more than happy to show you my invention. I'm available anytime."
"You available tomorrow morning?"
"Yes! Definitely yes. No trouble at all. We would love to have you over."
"We? You have a partner?" That hadn't been included in the reports.
"Ah, not for the invention. My family lives with me. That's okay, right?"
"Yes, family is fine. Will ten in the morning be all right for you or would that be too early--"
"No, that would be just fine. We'd be very happy to have you come then."
"Good. I'll see you then."
"Thanks, Mr. Wentworth!"
"Anytime." Rick ended the call with a triumphant tap on his phone. He had a purpose, something to do and he felt energized. He even skipped on his way back to the kitchen.
"Supper is about ready," Sophy called as she dumped the vegetables into the pot. "Would you mind setting the table?"
"Sure." He set things out while Sophy and Al whispered and giggled at each other over the stove. Once the food was finished, they laid it out on the table and a prayer was given before they dug into the vegetable soup and toasted rolls. Rick waited for them to ask who called but they kept the conversation centered around the quality of the soup and whether they should have gone with a different spice. He really shouldn't be surprised, though. He noticed they had made a concentrated effort to avoid being too noisy this time, a big feat for Sophy. They must fear it might scare him off. He suddenly regretted taking the job. Sophy might take it as a rejection which hadn't been his intention at all. Unfortunately, canceling the appointment would look bad for his company. He'd made his decision and he would have to deal with the consequences.
He cleared his throat. "It looks like I have to do a quick work thing tomorrow. I have to investigate an invention my company might acquire. It's an hour away but I should be back by the afternoon or supper at the latest," Rick added in a rush, then braced for the stern words or torrent of tears soon to follow.
Instead, Al shot his hand out to his wife, palm up. "Pay up!"
She wagged her finger, a sneaky grin on her face. "Nah uh. It's been over twenty-four hours. I win."
Al craned his neck to see the clock on the wall, then threw up his hands. "Ah, Rick! Why didn't you decide this two hours earlier?"
He stared at them as if they'd announced they were moving to a different planet. The two burst out laughing.
"Al bet you couldn't last twenty-four vacationing," Sophy explained, wiping tears from her eyes.
All the tension in Rick's body faded away. They weren't mad at all. "Well, in Al's defense, he almost won, but my stubbornness made me hold out as long as possible."
Al rapped the table. "Aw, shucks, I forgot to factor in that Wentworth stubbornness."
"And you've been married to me for how long?" his wife teased.
"Hey, hey, I was counting on you to assign him a job. Or maybe bring a nice girl for him to meet."
"Al!" Sophy admonished. "We don't want to be those relatives always forcing singles on each other."
Rick grinned. "That is refreshing."
Sophy spun her head, eyebrows high with interest. "Oh, it happens a lot?"
"Ah ha!" Al boomed. "She smells gossip!"
Rick laughed. "It's nothing big. I just have a boss who likes to matchmake."
"Isn't that illegal?" Al asked.
"She tries to be very sneaky about it. You're assigned a job and oh, hey, your partner happens to be another single person."
"And none caught your fancy?" Sophy prodded.
"Apparently not," Rick said, trying to keep his voice light and airy as if the subject didn't bother him at all.
"Out of curiosity, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to," Sophy began, "but what IS your type?"
The chocolate-eyed girl sprung to his mind. He immediately crushed it. "Anyone between twenty and forty, I guess, who gives nice compliments on my work."
Al laughed and reached for his wife's hand. "Sounds like my ideal!"
Sophy rolled her eyes with a grin. "Be serious, what would be your ideal girl?"
He shrugged, wishing the topic had never come up. "The usual, I guess. Someone who is kind, caring, sensitive, and thinks of others." He frowned, realizing he'd described Anne, his chocolate-eyed girl. "And who is loyal," he added, curling one hand into a fist. "And won't abandon you."
Silence reigned for a second and Rick realized he'd been too honest. He abruptly grinned, trying to break the tense mood, but Al beat him to it.
"Here, here!" Al rapped his knuckles on the table. "But I already snagged the best one. You'll have to find the second best."
"Al!" Sophy tried to glare at her husband, but her laughter ruined the effect. "He was being serious!"
"So am I!" Al shot back, grabbing his wife's hand and pressing it against his lips. "And I'm the luckiest man alive."
"Oh, Al, quit it. You'll embarrass Rick."
Rick smiled and propped his elbows on the table. "I have always wondered, though, how DID you manage to convince my sister to marry you?"
Sophy immediately rolled her eyes. "He wouldn't give up."
"Yep," Al said. "Persistence, Rick. That is the key!"
Rick's smile froze, well aware o
f how well persistence worked for him. The old anger boiled inside and he abruptly stood up. "I'm afraid I'll need to retire early. Need to refresh myself on the notes."
"Got to make a good impression, right?" Al piped up and Rick nodded. He bid them goodnight and headed up to his room, glad for the excursion tomorrow. It would get him out of this blasted house and hopefully, those recurring thoughts of Anne won't bother him for an entire day.
Chapter 4
Rick enjoyed the long hour drive as it wound through forests and hills and slowed down when he found the unpaved road marked Uppercross. Turning onto it, he followed up an incline through more trees until the trees abruptly parted and he found himself cresting a hill, revealing a quaint pond in a little valley, surrounded by three hills. On the far right perched a stately, old farmhouse which had seen better days. Luckily, judging by the ladder set against its side and the pile of wood and shingles nearby, it seemed to be in the midst of much-needed repairs. The small hill next to it boasted a larger building that Rick guessed had once been a barn, but with the stately windows carved into its southern side and the solar panels adorning the roof, seemed to have been converted into a wanna-be-grand house. Farther to the left on a smaller hill sat a small, yet cute cottage, probably built to house the aging grandparents.
Stopping the car, Rick took a moment to snap some pictures, trying to capture how well the three buildings and accompanying hills framed the small pond. Emma, his boss, might be interested in the area. She was always seeking cute and unique places to send her guests and appreciated whenever Rick found a golden spot.
Once he captured the right shot, he restarted the car and headed down the hill. Guessing the not-a-barn would be where Mr. Musgrove would be, he pulled up beside it. As he stepped out of the car, he heard, "Mr. Wentworth!"
He turned and found a solidly-built man with wide shoulders and beefy arms huffing his way up the small incline from the small cottage.
"Mr. Wentworth, right?" The man asked when he neared him, an excited, yet anxious grin donning his face.
"The very man." Rick extended his hand for a handshake. "You must be Mr. Musgrove."
"Call me Charles." He gripped Rick's hand, his own rough and calloused, and gave it an eager shake.
"Then call me Rick."
"Thanks!" He spread out his arms to showcase his property. "Welcome to Uppercross! Nice place, isn't it?"
Rick grinned. The man wasn't shy. He liked that. "It's a very nice area. How'd you get so lucky?"
"See that farmhouse? My great-great-lots-of-greats grandfather built a smaller one in that exact spot in the 1700s. The original burned down and the one you see now was built in the late 1800s."
"And it leaks," a cold voice piped up from behind them. Rick turned and found chocolate eyes staring into his. He immediately stiffened, the breath freezing in his lungs. But the hair was lighter, the face longer, and there was no hint of kindness in those cold chocolate eyes, nor did he ever see such a peevish expression on Anne's face.
"Rick," Charles began, the eagerness gone from his voice, "this is my wife, Mary."
Rick forced a bright smile and extended his hand for a friendly shake but she ignored it. "You're here from Pemberley Estates?" The question borderlined on a sneer.
Rick's old anger flared. She seemed determined to dislike him, judging him to be beneath her. "Yes," he managed to say in a calmer manner than he felt.
"He's here!" A higher and full of energy voice called out and Rick found himself being accosted by two young ladies, probably in their late teens or early twenties. Like the wife, one had dark hair and dark eyes, not quite like Anne's, but too close for comfort. The other girl, however, was blonde and blue-eyed with an unabashed smile like Charles and nothing at all like Anne. He liked her immediately.
"And these are my sisters," Charles said, his face relaxing into amused annoyance, "Who were supposed to stay inside."
"Like we would ever!" The blonde girl declared. She stuck out her hand with grand aplomb. "I'm Louisa and this," she jabbed a thumb at the younger, brunette girl, "is my sister Henrietta but we all call her Rietta. Welcome to our place!"
He shook her hand, noting the firm grasp. She was very much like her brother: bold, determined, and eager.
"Glad to be here."
"I'll get the kids," Mary announced as if desperate to excuse herself from a boring conversation. Without a backward glance, she made her way around the not-a-barn house, disappearing behind it.
"Don't mind her," Louisa said. "She's always in a foul mood. Come," she beckoned him toward the not-a-barn. "You should see our house. Dad's made some cool inventions--"
"Louisa, he's here to see MY invention," Charles cut in with a roll of his eyes as though this was something she did often.
"He should see both, then!" Louisa countered.
"I'll be glad to see both," Rick offered, "but I should see Charles' invention first."
"But the house is on the way! Come, you should see it! It'll take less than five minutes."
Rick looked at Charles for help but he laughed. "It's fine. Like she said, it is on the way."
Rick swept out his hand. "Lead the way, then."
Louisa giggled and practically pranced to the front door. "You're going to love it! We've worked so hard on converting this old barn--"
"Why convert it?" Rick asked, eying the new paint on the walls.
"Dad wanted solar panels," Rietta offered.
"And the electrician said it would kill the wiring on the old farmhouse," Charles said, pointing to the abandoned building on the other hill. "And that it would be easier to take it all out and put in a new system. The cost of doing that was too much but he still wanted to install solar panels."
"Then Charles convinced Dad it was cheaper to install it on the barn," Louisa said, grabbing control of the conversation once more. "And since they had to put in a new wiring system anyway, they decided to convert this old barn to something livable and then they had so much fun doing that--"
"They're redoing the old farmhouse," Rietta chimed in, apparently as determined as her sister to control the conversation. "Silly, huh? They didn't end up saving any money at all!"
Rick grinned. "You'd be amazed how much one home improvement can lead to."
Louisa giggled as if he'd said the funniest joke. "That is SO true! But, as it turns out, our parents are awesome at home improvements!" She threw open the front door and led them all into the house. Rick was surprised to see it was in an open-floor layout. No walls separated the kitchen, front area, and living room, utilizing couches, tables, and musical instruments to group the areas. Stairs in the corner led up into the overly tall ceiling and, Rick guessed, to a floor with the bedrooms. He swept a gaze over the materials used in the kitchen counters and cupboards and noted the polished wood floor. Not up to the standards of his company, but the place had a quaint, homemade feel to the place. His hands itched to snap a few photos since his boss, Emma, would love this place. She always had a soft spot for imperfect, homemade homes. Her own home was built in the eighteenth century and she refused to update it.
"So?" Louisa asked as she spun around, arms spread wide to show off her home. "What do you think? Dad did the whole kitchen himself and I helped with the interior decoration."
Rick hid a smile. The girl wanted him to praise her taste in decoration. "It's well done. The arrangement of the furniture is a nice touch to suggest walls."
Louisa bounced, her eyes alight with excitement. "I knew you'd like it!"
"Now let's see if he'll like MY invention," Charles cut in, obviously impatient to be moving on. Rick laughed and followed Charles as they crossed to the back door. But before they managed to exit, heavy steps clambered down the stairs and Rick found himself being introduced to the parents. Both were probably in their late fifties with jovial faces and happy lines crinkling their skin. While they happily answered any questions, they seemed content to let their children hog the conversation and made no move to stop th
em when Charles shepherded his sisters and Rick out of the house and soon, Rick found himself staring across several acres of farmland, overlooked by a new, imposing barn to the right. Another aesthetic spot. The Musgroves may not have a knack for professional homebuilding, but they certainly had an eye for landscaping.
A scream shattered the picturesque moment. Rick tensed, eyes flying for the source of the sound. Farther to the left, a woman ran out of the woods and down a short hill as if a cougar was on her heels.
"That's Mary!" Louisa cried.
Rick barely remembered that was the wife of Charles when the man bolted forward. "I have to go. My son fell out of a tree!"
Rick stared after him, bewildered how the man deduced that message from the woman's unintelligible screams. But after a second, he broke into a sprint.
"I know first aid," he called to Charles when he caught up with him, his long legs easily outpacing Charles' shorter ones, "Where is the boy?"
"Up the hill!" He waved at the screaming woman now standing uselessly at the bottom of the hill. "Small clearing."
Rick nodded and pumped his legs, utilizing his many years of training in the navy, and soon reached the distraught lady. He couldn't understand one word of her screams, but her wild gestures to something up the hill gave him enough of an idea of the direction to go and he headed up, following the path as it entered the woods. To his shock, a crying toddler shuffled toward him, completely unharmed. The boy cowered behind a tree the instant he saw Rick, his sobs growing. Rick debated about trying to help him but decided against it. The boy was too small; he couldn't get high enough in a tree to hurt himself. There must be an older boy. He bypassed the crying toddler and hurried down the trail until it opened up to a small clearing. On the other side, a lady with dark, brown hair pulled up into a messy bun stood under a tree, hands outstretched as if trying to catch a dangling child. Not sure where the fallen child was, but assuming a third child was in danger now, he bolted forward. "Wait!"
The woman jerked, turning toward him. Unfortunately, the child chose that exact moment to fall from the tree, landing directly on top of her. They tumbled to the uneven forest floor in a messy heap of flailing legs and arms.
Persuading Her: A Modern Persuasion Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 2) Page 3
