“Okay, wonderful. My assistant will be by with some coffee and refreshments shortly, but let’s get started.” Annabeth pulled out a folder from midway down her stack and laid it open in front of her. “I presume you read the letter from Mr. Prescott, so you are aware that he had no familial heirs to his estate.”
Riley nodded.
“Mr. Prescott has asked that everything he had be left to you. This includes, but is not limited to, his home in Port Henry, his stocks, which will be transferred to you, any cash savings that he had, his vehicle, which is also located in Port Henry, and his dog.” As if she could sense the need to pause, Ms. Carmichael looked up to see Riley scrunching her face.
“His dog?”
“Yes, and this was actually very important to Mr. Prescott,” she replied.
“I didn’t even know he had a dog.” I don’t want a dog, why would he leave me a dog?
“He did mention that to me the last time we spoke. But, this dog was very special to him, and he was quite clear in his instructions that the dog was to be looked after by you specifically.”
“Did he say why? I don’t know anything about dogs. I’ve never even had a dog.” Riley started to glance around the room, worried the dog might be there and she’d have to take it immediately.
Annabeth giggled. “The dog is at the house in Port Henry, Ms. Maxwell. Bernard, who I believe you met the other day, is taking care of him, but Mr. Prescott wanted you to go to Port Henry as soon as possible to take ownership of the dog, and of the house.”
“So he told you that he wanted me to leave the city, to go to his home in Port Henry and take his dog?” Suddenly, she wondered if Jameson knew her at all. The city was her home, not the beach, and while they had discussed a vacation-style business meeting at the house in the Port, she certainly didn’t want to move up there. “Did he expect me to live there?”
“I’m not sure what he expected you to do with the house exactly, Ms. Maxwell, but what I do know is that he’d hoped you’d consider spending the summer there, with the dog, and with the assistance of Bernard, before you made any decisions about keeping any of it. He was your only client, am I correct?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Umm, yeah. He was. He paid me in advance basically so that I’d be on retainer for his book project.” She wondered what was to become of the project now that he was no longer there to give her stories.
“Yes, the book project,” Annabeth thumbed through the papers in the folder before her. “Ah, here it is.” She pointed to something Riley couldn’t see. “Mr. Prescott would like you to continue the project without him.”
“How am I supposed to write the memoirs of someone who is…” She trailed off.
“Mr. Prescott indicated that after a summer in the Port, you’d be able to gather the remaining information you need to complete the assignment.”
“I see. Is there anything else?” Riley was shifting in her seat, and wished she’d never made the trip downtown. All of this information was overwhelming, and she had a strong desire to get back to her apartment and hide under the covers.
Annabeth leaned back in her chair and pulled open a drawer. She lifted out an envelope that appeared to be quite full and set it in front of Riley. “Ms. Maxwell, Mr. Prescott was very wealthy. I’m sure you knew that. His death was not exactly unexpected, but he had hoped the treatments in Switzerland would extend his life, and that he’d be able to explain much of this to you himself. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. But, he has ensured that you are to be well taken care of, and in the interim of transferring ownership of his assets to you, I was instructed to give you this.” She waved gently to the envelope. “Go ahead, open it.”
Riley opened the envelope and found a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, along with two credit cards in her name and a key. Her eyes widened and she quickly closed the envelope. “What is this?” she stuttered, completely in shock at the amount of cash before her.
“That… is ten thousand dollars. It is the exact amount that can legally be gifted without any annoying paperwork.” She smiled. “The credit cards are linked to accounts that were opened in your name some time ago in case of an emergency, or the situation we find before us. Mr. Prescott wanted you to go to the Port, he said that you knew that and were planning to go, is that correct?”
“Well, yes, that’s true,” she replied.
“I know this all seems overwhelming, but my advice would be to get yourself a train ticket this afternoon and go to Port Henry. Bernard knew Mr. Prescott better than I did, and he can speak to his personal wishes far greater than I can. I don’t know why he was so concerned that you take care of this dog, but maybe meet the dog. Spend a little time in your dear friend’s home, which is now yours, and relax. Learn about him. You might be surprised and find that this is exactly what you need.”
Riley considered what the lawyer said, and nodded. “This was truly important to him?”
Annabeth nodded. “I can say with absolute certainty that it was.”
“Okay then.”
Later that afternoon, after going over a few more legal issues and signing some papers she wasn’t entirely sure about, Riley found herself on the train to the Port. She’d visited once as a teenager but had never been to one of the mansions there. Deciding to call it an adventure of sorts, and in effect, honoring her friend, she went to Port Henry hoping this dog wasn’t going to get too attached to her.
5
Donovan
The news of the passing of Jameson Prescott hit Donovan harder than he expected it too. When he got back to the office after walking the dogs, he told Toni some of what he’d found out. After they reminisced about Scrappy and how funny Jameson had been when he got his new puppy, Donovan worried who the beneficiary of the estate was.
“I hope they like dogs,” he said.
“You mean, you hope they like giant dogs that walk around like a bull in a china shop,” Toni said, laughing.
Scrappy was by far, the biggest, clumsiest dog on the planet. At least that’s what Donovan thought. Every time Jameson brought him in for his shots or a check-up, that dog would break at least one thing with his tail flinging around like a lion tamer’s whip. He still wasn’t full-grown and at about ninety pounds the last time he was in the office, Donovan imagined he’d be bigger already.
“Do you think he knew how big that dog would get?” he asked her.
“I don’t think he cared. He was looking for a companion that wouldn’t turn into another ex-wife, if you ask me.”
“That’s a good point. You know he didn’t have any family?”
“I did know that. He was a nice man. What do you think will happen to his house, and to Scrappy? Is Bernard going to keep him?” she asked.
“Bernard said that Prescott had a beneficiary and they’d be there soon,” he replied.
“Interesting. Did he say who it was?”
“He did not. I guess we’ll find out soon enough in this small town. I’m sure the vultures are out, hoping his property goes on the market soon.”
“Well, whoever it is should keep that house. It’s an excellent investment,” she replied.
Donovan laughed. “Look at you, Miss ‘it’s a good investment.’ You’ve turned into quite the mogul yourself.”
“Fuck off, Donovan. It’s not news that the property value here goes up year over year. Just because I got a payout after divorcing a lecherous asshole doesn’t make me any less wealthy than the other trophy wives in this town. Only difference is, I don’t have to give a blow job to my annoying husband for a new purse. I can just go buy one for myself now.” She pursed her lips and put her hand on her hip dramatically, adding flair to her point.
“Touché, milady.” Donovan mock saluted her and chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t deserve what you have,” he offered apologetically.
“I know. I’m just telling you how it is around here. Sometimes I think you forget that I’m a townie just like you. Just because I have s
ome money now doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I got what I deserved in that divorce, especially after the bullshit I had to deal with in that family. They were lucky I took a payout instead of making them pay me a stipend for the rest of my life. I just didn’t want to deal with them anymore, and even still, I have to see that piece of shit with his new lady around town.”
“I haven’t seen them, but I heard he was engaged again. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me, be sorry for that fool. She surely has stars in her eyes, and I’m certain she has no idea what sort of life she’s signed up for. But, maybe she doesn’t care. There’s a lot of women in this town who only care about being taken care of, and are perfectly happy to keep their mouths shut and fuck when they’re asked to, for payment in jewelry, clothes, and an opulent life. I’m just not one of them. I’m no prostitute.”
“You really think these wives are prostituting themselves to their husbands? Isn’t that a little bitter?” Donovan tread carefully, but he was genuinely curious what Toni’s opinion on the topic was, especially since she’d been on the other side.
“Okay, prostitution is a strong word. But they’re robots. They do what they’re told, and in return, they get stuff. Whatever superficial stuff filling the void of having no opinions or feelings causes. Eventually, some of them get tired of that Stepford life, but from what I saw, that’s a true life goal for others. They feel honored to be put in that position. I was always too much for my ex. The things he loved about me in the beginning, the things that make me who I am… my sass, my opinions, my wild attitude… they all drew him to me until it was time to settle down, then he wanted to change me. At first, I thought it was part of growing up, but then I realized that it was to fit me into a cookie-cutter life that was dictated down for generations. Anyway, I’m not an idiot, and I got away and made myself a deal that sets me up for success. So, fuck off.”
“Fair enough,” Donovan replied, grinning back at her.
The rest of the afternoon, he thought about what Toni had said, that a lot of the women in the Port weren’t truly happy, they were simply filling a role. It made him think over some of the summer choices he’d made the last few years as the playboy veterinarian, and he wasn’t sure he liked being the guy that gave them what they wanted in the bedroom and nowhere else. Sure, it was fun at the moment, and everyone involved was always a consenting adult, but had he put himself in the category of men who weren’t valued either? Had I become the town gigolo?
At the end of the workday, Donovan was still unsettled, so he hit up his best friend Gavin Fraser for a drink. The two had spent many a summer pursuing the ladies of the Port, offering their services as it were, and with summer approaching, what better time to get his head back in the game of fun than a few drinks with his buddy.
After a shower and an internal pep talk, Donovan met up with Gavin at their usual watering hole, the Rusty Scupper. One of the oldest bar and restaurants in the area, it was a place both the townies and tourists frequented, with amazing food, reasonably priced drinks, and a summery, nautical vibe that appealed to the area.
“We eating, or just drinking tonight?” Gavin said, patting his friend on the back.
“Just drinking, I think,” Donovan replied. He was happy to see his old friend. Gavin was a real estate agent in the Port, and a busy one at that. Houses and properties were constantly changing hands, being foreclosed on, or inherited, for that matter. “How’s business?”
“Better than ever!” he exclaimed. “There are six new properties on the market, and I’ve already got offers pouring in. Rock stars, actresses, and even a famous TV chef are all bidding on one of them. It’s gonna be a good summer.” He rubbed his palms together. “How are the pets of the rich and famous?”
“I don’t think any of my patients are particularly famous.” Donovan laughed. “They are rich though.”
“Fair enough. How’s that hot tech of yours? Toni, is it?”
“She’s good, and she’s off limits,” Donovan replied sternly. Friends or not, he wasn’t about to let Gavin try to sweet talk Toni into some kind of summer fling. Not that she’d accept—he was pretty sure Toni had her own game in town, but she was hush-hush about it.
“Okay, okay.” Gavin put his hands up in surrender. “No hot assistants. Got it.”
“Thank you.” Donovan rolled his eyes.
“So, what’s new? Anything else besides work?” Gavin had a gleam in his eye as he scanned the room. “Either the women are getting younger, or the plastic surgeons are getting better. We gonna be each other’s wingman this season again or what?”
As despicable a thing as it was to say, he was right. Donovan glanced around the room as well, and the beautiful people were showing up in full force. For a mid-week night, the bar was full, and the restaurant had a waitlist already. There were a lot of familiar faces, although several of them looked like they’d had a freshening up in the offseason. “Uh, yeah. I’d say it’s business as usual. That’s why we work so hard all winter, right?” Donovan wasn’t sure he meant what he said, but he could sense it wasn’t the time to have a conflict of morals discussion with his friend.
The bar was situated near the front door and when she walked in, it was quite the ruckus. With a giant suitcase on wheels, a small purse strapped across her body, and a laptop bag, the woman slung the door open wildly, causing some of the long dark hair that had been piled on top of her head to fall down past her shoulders. It seemed as though she wasn’t quite sure where she was as she looked around the room with a raised eyebrow.
She dragged her suitcase over the bar and plopped down two seats away from Donovan and Gavin, who watched her silently. When the bartender came over and asked what she wanted, her reply was even more surprising.
“I’m gonna need a shot of tequila. You know what? Make that two,” she said as she rested both hands on top of the bar and took a deep breath.
Donovan couldn’t take his eyes off her. Dressed in cutoff jean shorts, a ripped sweatshirt, and canvas shoes, she wasn’t like anyone else he’d seen of late, and she definitely wasn’t a townie. Before he could say anything, Gavin whispered, “Dibs!” excitedly.
“Hold on just a second. She just walked in,” Donovan replied.
“Since when did that matter?” Gavin shrugged his shoulders and blew his friend off, approaching the new girl.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked her in his smarmy way. Donovan had no reason to be jealous, he didn’t even know the girl, but he knew he didn’t want Gavin’s grubby hands on her.
“I already have two, thanks.” She held up her shot glass up to show him before taking it like a college kid on spring break.
“You’re new to Port Henry, aren’t you?” he asked her, completely unphased by her disinterest.
“What gave it away? The clothes from the mall?” she replied sarcastically. Her sunglasses were tucked into her hair on top of her head, and her body language definitely indicated she wanted him to go away. She’d turned herself on the bar stool to face away from him without being too blunt, but Gavin wasn’t one for taking hints.
“So what brings you to the Port? You here for the summer?” Innuendo dripped from his mouth as Gavin leaned in closer to her. Donovan watched the scene unfold, shaking his head and sipping his beer.
The young woman, whose pale face and pink lips were in stark contrast, shut her eyes and sighed deeply. She picked up her other shot glass, downed the amber liquid like a champ, and locked eyes with Gavin. “What’s your name?” she asked him.
Grinning, he replied, “I’m Gavin. Gavin Fraser.” He put his hand out for her to take, but she didn’t take it.
“Listen, Gavin Fraser,” She sneered down at his outstretched hand while Gavin continued to grin, blissfully unaware she was about to crush his confident swagger, something Donovan saw coming from their first interaction. “I’m sure that you’re pretty boy, charming personality works on the local gals in the offseason and, hell, maybe it even works on the
rich tourists all summer. But you won’t be adding this”—she waved her hands down the front of herself—“to your body count. I don’t have any interest in a fuck in the bathroom or a one-night stand, or even a summer fling with some wannabe rich boy looking to whet his whistle for the season. You got me?”
Donovan choked on his beer audibly, garnering her attention. “Don’t you bother either. You two are easy to spot a mile away, with your good looks and nice clothes. I’m not buying what you’re selling.”
“Who me?” Donovan asked defensively. “I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to. I can tell exactly what you two are up to, perched at the bar, making your plans for the summer like horny vultures. It’s written all over your faces.” She pointed her index and ring fingers at both of them with judgment. Hopping off the bar, she dug some cash out of her pocket and dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the bar before dragging her giant suitcase behind her, leaving as dramatically as she had arrived.
Donovan grinned like he’d just watched his favorite team win the World Series.
I think I’m in love.
6
Riley
If that’s what Port Henry had to offer in the way of local hospitality, I won’t be staying long. What a couple of creeps.
Riley stormed back out of the Rusty Scupper, the taste of tequila still in her mouth. Thinking that was probably not the best of ideas, she pulled a bottle of water out of her laptop bag and took a long drink. Annabeth had offered to make travel arrangements—well, she’d offered to have her assistant make travel arrangements for her—but her pride made her say she’d take care of it herself. The truth was, the lawyer’s office, and the overflow of information and building emotions, made her feel trapped, so she took her envelope of cash and went back home as quickly as she could to pack and get herself to the Port.
One Hot Summer Page 9
