Healed: Stone and Pepper (Cliffside Bay Book 7)

by Tess Thompson

  Stone frowned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Mine’s buzzing like crazy too.”

  She squeezed his hand. “We can turn them off when we get home—pretend we’re back in Colorado.”

  He flashed her a wolfish grin. “We can call it ‘Colorado time’ from here on out.”

  “It’ll be our code word at parties for when we want to go home.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “And ravish each other.”

  His eyes sparked. “Great idea.”

  She turned back to her phone. Curious about the call from New York, Pepper listened to that one first.

  “Hello, Pepper, this is Arthur Freidman.” It was a deep, resonant voice. His precise speech indicated breeding and wealth and someone important and self-confident. “I’m not sure your father ever mentioned me to you, but I’m his attorney. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

  Her stomach fell to the floor. Loss? Who had she lost?

  “Although I worked for your father for thirty years, he was somewhat elusive about his personal life. I had no idea he was ill until I got the call from his assistant this morning. The last time I met with him was a little over six months ago when he came in to talk to me about the details of his will. It was then that I learned of your existence. He gave precise instructions about his wishes, some of which concern you. It’s my understanding you’re in California now, and I apologize for the inconvenience, but I’ll need you to come to New York so that I can discuss the details of your inheritance.”

  Inheritance? The bastard had left her money? No, it wasn’t possible. Maybe a pittance? Or a cruel reminder that he found her untalented and uninteresting?

  The voice mail from Arthur continued. “If it is at all possible, I’d like to meet with you at your earliest convenience. Please give my offices a call so we can arrange a time.” There was a slight pause before he spoke again. “I’m aware of the nature of your relationship with your father and that perhaps your first instinct would be to forget this call. However, without saying too much over the phone, it will be worth your efforts to make the trip. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  She hung up and stared at the screen, numb and confused. Her father was dead and had left her something in his will. How were either of those things possible? She tried to remember how old he was but drew a blank. He’d been at least twenty years older than her mother, who was only fifty, which would make him early seventies. Not young, but not old enough to die.

  “What is it?” Stone asked.

  She looked over at him. “My father died. That was a voice mail from his attorney. He left me something.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Your father? How?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.” She remembered her mother’s voice mail. “Hang on. I need to listen to my mom’s message.”

  As she’d suspected, her mom’s message was about her father’s death. She didn’t come right out and say it, but it was obvious. “Pepper, honey, call me when you land. I have something important to tell you.”

  “My mom,” she said to Stone. “I’ll need to call her right away.”

  By now it was time to leave the plane. She would have to wait. On shaking legs, she stumbled into the aisle with her bag pressed against her stomach. Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she followed the person in front of her off the plane and into the gate. Stone guided her with his hand on her elbow away from the existing crowd. When they were in a quieter area, she collapsed into a chair. Stone sat next to her as she called her mother.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Mom said. “Did you get my message?”

  “Yes. I already know. His attorney called. He left me something in his will. I have to go to New York to meet with him.”

  “He left you something?” Her mother’s voice sounded unnaturally high, like she was trying to hold it together.

  “Apparently.”

  “I’m amazed,” Mom said. “I saw it on the news this morning. That’s how I found out. He died of congestive heart failure.”

  “Heart failure.” How ironic. His heart had failed a long time ago. She glanced at Stone. He was bent at the waist with his elbows resting on his knees. She let her head fall onto his shoulder as she wrapped up the phone call. “I’ll call you when I know more,” Pepper said.

  “I love you,” Mom said.

  “Love you more.”

  “Do you want to call the attorney now?” Stone asked in his gentle, thoughtful way.

  She nodded and pushed the call-back button. An administrative assistant answered.

  “Hi, yes. This is Pepper Griffin for Mr. Freidman.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Seconds later, Mr. Freidman’s voice came through. “Pepper, thanks for calling.”

  “Sure. Your call came as a shock. I had no idea he’d died.”

  He responded with a second of silence before he recovered. “I’m very sorry. As his only child, I assumed you would know already.”

  “My mother saw it on the news, but I was traveling this morning so my phone was off.”

  “You weren’t in contact with him personally then?” he asked.

  “I haven’t talked to him in over a decade.”

  Another few seconds of silence passed before he answered. “I thought that might be the case.”

  “Are you sure I’m his only child?” she asked with a wry smile at Stone. “The man had a habit of bedding young actresses.” Maybe that’s what did in his cold heart.

  “You’re the only one he mentioned in his will. Other than that, I can’t say I’d know either way. As I indicated in my message, I didn’t know him well personally.”

  “Is there a reason you can’t just tell me what he left for me over the phone?”

  “He was very specific. We are to meet in person.”

  “All right. I’ll try to get a flight out in the next few days. When I have something arranged, I’ll call you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll look forward to meeting you in person.”

  She hung up and looked over at Stone. “I have no idea what to do here. What to think.”

  He straightened and met her gaze. “Do you want to fly out now? You could buy a ticket on the next flight to New York.”

  “Get it over with, you mean?”

  “The longer it’s hanging over your head, the worse it will be.”

  “True.”

  “I’ll go with you. If you want.”

  She stared down at her hands, trying to focus on his question. Her mind whirled and buzzed in confusion and shock. Her father was dead. He’d left her something. She tried to picture herself going alone to the attorney’s office. New York was her town. She could do it by herself, but having Stone with her made the whole idea bearable.

  “What about work?” she asked.

  “I can take a few more days.” He took her hand into his lap. “That’s the beauty of being self-employed.”

  “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I don’t know if I can go without you.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. This is how it works. When you’re weak, I’m strong.”

  His steady sweetness penetrated through her shock and cleared her mind. “As long as you’re sure you can leave again, then yes, please come with me.”

  He leaned close and gave her a quick kiss. “Come on then. Let’s get some tickets to New York.”

  “Shouldn’t we get our bags first?”

  “Good call.”

  Pepper sat next to Stone in a New York taxi, headed to Mr. Freidman’s office on the Upper East Side. The streets were busy with cars, all pushing and plodding with honking horns and gas fumes. Crowds of people inched their way up the sidewalks, most with phones in their hands even if they weren’t looking at them. She glanced toward Central Park and wished she were here with Stone to have fun. She would show him all her favorite places and take him for a drink at the Irish pub that had been her hangout with Lisa and Maggie. They could go to the Theater District and look at all t
he marquees, and she could tell him which ones she’d performed in and which she wished she could.

  “You okay?” Stone asked.

  “Sure. Just nervous.”

  He picked up her hand and held it on his lap. “It’ll be fine.” He looked handsome in his new blue button-down shirt he’d insisted on buying for the meeting.

  “The shirt looks good,” she said. “Matches your eyes.”

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look?” he asked.

  “I believe once or twice.” She leaned against him. Her Stone.

  She’d decided on her red wrap dress and black boots. They made her look polished and serious. For luck, she’d worn her charm bracelet. Not really understanding why, she’d done her makeup carefully and fussed over her hair until the moment they had to leave or risk being late. Impressing the attorney was stupid. Her dad was dead. The outcome of today’s meeting was predestined. Still, she wanted him to see that she was a put-together young woman, not some money-hungry leech only interested in her father’s money. The whole thing was funny, really. It wasn’t as if she’d ever impressed her father when he was alive. Most likely, her presentation this morning would not have impressed him either.

  She hated him just as much now as she did when he was alive.

  She also loved him just as much.

  She hadn’t even fidgeted much on the way, although now, as they pulled up to the building, her feet twitched inside the leather boots. A voice in her head screamed—run.

  She didn’t. Instead, she took Stone’s hand and let him help her out of the car. They walked together through the glass doors of the building and up the elevator to the eleventh floor.

  The offices of Green and Freidman were posh with sleek furniture and polished marble floors. A few splashes of red were the only color in an array of gray. An attractive young man named Jason greeted them and offered them a beverage. She declined. Her nerves were too jumpy to hold a cup without spilling.

  Jason escorted them back to Arthur Freidman’s office.

  Arthur stood when they entered the spacious office. With a view of the Manhattan skyline from picture windows and thick leather furniture and a mahogany desk, it didn’t take much of a guess as to how much this man billed an hour.

  The man himself was as sleek as his offices. Tall and slender, he wore a graceful dark blue suit. His face was unlined and cleanly shaven. Only his short, perfectly styled salt-and-pepper hair hinted that his thirty years of service to her father was possible.

  “Great to meet you.” He shook both their hands and motioned for them to follow him to a round table on the other side of the office. They did so. Pepper folded her damp hands together under the table. Her heart raced as she waited for him to begin.

  “Thanks for making the trip out here.” Arthur Freidman reached for a pile of folders from the middle of the table and fixed intelligent, restrained eyes on her.

  With considerable effort, she held his gaze. “Mr. Freidman, you made it hard to say no.”

  “Please, call me Arthur.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  Arthur opened one of the folders and pulled out an envelope, then slid it across the smooth surface of the table. “This is a letter he left for you.”

  She stared at the envelope for longer than socially acceptable, as if she might leave it and walk out the door. She slid her gaze to Stone. He gave her a reassuring smile and wrapped his hand over her knee.

  “It’s your choice whether to read it or not,” Stone said. “We can go. You get to decide.”

  Under the table, she pressed the palm of her hand over his. It was as if they had a secret, touching under the table out of the view of Mr. Freidman. The warmth of Stone soaked into her. Strong, steady Stone. She could do this with him by her side. When it was over, they could walk out and get coffee or dinner and she would be fine again. Her father could not hurt her now.

  Or could he? The contents of the letter had the power to hurt, to rip open the wounds she’d so long ago sewn together. She examined the front of the envelope. Her name was written squarely in the middle in her father’s precise handwriting. All capital letters. No weak lowercase for her father.

  She plucked it from the desk and held her breath, as if the paper itself smelled bad, then tore it open with a slice of her index finger. The paper was thick, expensive, posh. She unfolded the letter. Her father’s initials were embossed at the top of the page.

  Dear Pepper,

  Despite my best efforts, I’ve become a cliché. Like so many men who face their imminent death, I’ve spent my last few months contemplating the content of my character. I’m sure we’re in agreement about my parenting skills. I’ve not been a good father. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

  Knowing you’re here only to hear the contents of my will, I’ll be brief.

  I’ll start with this. I’m sorry. To say I wasn’t cut out for fatherhood is terribly obvious. However, it’s the truth. I didn’t know how to relate to a child. Because of my behavior, I didn’t have the opportunity to know you as an adult. I’d like to think I’d do things differently if given another chance, but the truth is—I probably wouldn’t. We are what we are.

  My father told me when I was a young man that money didn’t solve problems between people, only created them. If that is true, then my grand gesture here in the third act will mean nothing to you. I have to offer it anyway. Arthur will explain the details but suffice it to say I’m leaving you the only thing in my life I ever did well. If I’d been able to love anything as much as I did my work, perhaps our story would be different. Sadly, my third act cannot bring a happy ending. In the end, my financial accomplishments are all I have to leave you. I hope you’ll use the resources wisely and make something of yourself.

  Sincerely,

  Your father

  Pepper handed the letter to Stone without a word. While he read, she focused on breathing. Her heart pounded. Sweat pooled between her breasts and dampened her palms. Leave it to her father to go out with a flourish and an extra bow.

  “What does all this mean?” she asked Arthur. The letter was cold, matter-of-fact and confusing, like her father.

  “I’ll explain.” Arthur reached back into the folder and came out with what appeared to be a legal document. She recognized the layout, because she’d once come upon the custody agreement between her parents. He cleared his throat and began to read. Pepper squeezed her hands together to squelch the nervous energy coursing through her body before it escaped in the form of a primal scream.

  After some legal jargon, Arthur came to the crux of the matter. “‘To my only daughter, Pepper Grace Griffin, I leave the entirety of my financial accounts and all assets.’”

  Arthur set aside the document for a moment and looked up at her. “There are a lot of legal details, but the headline is pretty simple. It’s not a stretch to say he was the most powerful man in the theater community here in New York.”

  “I was aware of that,” she said drily.

  Arthur’s mouth lifted in a thin smile. “His production company helped finance several large productions a year, but that was by no means the entirety of his portfolio. Before he passed, he sold all his properties and investments so that it would be a clean transition for you.” He reached for another piece of paper. “Your father’s net worth was one hundred million dollars, give or take. That money is all yours. These are the details of the bank account we set up for you. As I said, he wanted to make it easy for you by liquidating everything into cash.”

  Pepper pressed her thumb into the pointy end of the surfboard charm on her bracelet. Her head felt unnaturally heavy, and her vision went blurry the way it used to back in math class in high school. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. Next to her, Stone had gone completely still.

  “There’s more,” Arthur said. “He’s made you his successor at his production company. He wanted you to run it.”

  “What? Me? No. I don’t know how to run a company.” She look
ed over at Stone. He stared back at her with a bewildered expression.

  “This is a lot to process,” Arthur said. “I’ll be happy to continue on as your attorney to advise you about taxes and such. If not me, then I can make recommendations to you.”

  “We haven’t spoken in over a decade,” she said. “Why would he do this?”

  “It was my understanding he had no other family,” Arthur said. “It was his dying wish for you to have financial freedom.”

  “Freedom? Freedom from what?” She sputtered and sat forward in her chair with her finger pointed at the attorney as if it were his fault her father was a lunatic. “This isn’t like a nice allowance so that I don’t have to wait tables while I look for acting work, which, by the way, would have come in damn handy back when I was waiting tables and looking for acting work. Why would he do this now?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t answer that,” Arthur said.

  She looked over at Stone, who was staring into his lap. His skin had drained of all color. “Stone?”

  He raised his head toward her. His eyes were glassy and unfocused-looking, like a kid’s in the principal’s office. “Yes?”

  She simply stared at him, shaking. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Stone seemed to snap out of his stupor. He sat up straighter and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Give it a moment to sink in. You can figure out what it all means later.”

  She shook her head. “No. This is wrong. I’m not supposed to have his money. Not now. Not ever. We had no relationship. I don’t want it.”

  Arthur cleared his throat again. “I have to say, I’ve never had a relative react this way to learning they were now very, very wealthy.”

  The tears wanted to come, but she would not let them. Not here in front of Arthur. Later, she would let the angry tears flow, and Stone would hold her. Yes, anger. That’s what he’d left her. How dare he leave her all this money when all she wanted was a relationship with him? Maybe an introduction to a few directors in town. Not this. Not money.

  She rose to her feet and smoothed her dress over her hips. “I’ll be in touch later. But I need a little time.”