“His employee and his dear friend, and nothing more.”
“You lived together on the boat. Am I supposed to believe-”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to believe. You’ve clearly been asking around, but you won’t find a single person in this town who will claim Johnny and I were romantically involved. Not anyone who knew us, anyway.”
He shrugged. “Pity for you. If you could claim status as his common-law wife, your chances in court would go up.”
She slapped some money on the bar, gave him one more hard look, and left. She wasn’t going to dignify his observation with a response.
She didn’t need to resort to legal tricks. The law was on her side.
“SHOT YOU DOWN, DID SHE?” Max said as Cooper reclaimed his chair at their table. Even with a black eye, Max was still a chick magnet. He’d made up some ridiculous story about fighting off a mugger, and he’d already secured dates with two different women.
Cooper gathered up the papers they’d been working on, just some brainstorming on ways to market the charter service once ownership was established. “Allie’s a tough cookie. Says she’s dealt with lawyers before. I’ll put Mark Gold to work finding out exactly what sort of litigation she’s been involved in.”
He caught Reece and Max sharing a look.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Reece said, draining the last of his Coke.
“You guys think I’m going too far?”
“Duh.” Max threw a few bills on the table for their waitress. “Why don’t we just let the judge sort it out? If Uncle Johnny really wanted to give his girlfriend a boat, who are we to say no?”
“She wasn’t his girlfriend.” Cooper was surprised at how quickly he argued that point. But he did believe Allie about that one thing. No one in town had supported his theory that Allie and Johnny were lovers.
Max shrugged. “Whatever.”
Why didn’t his cousins get it? Maybe not every woman was out to fleece the male population, but he’d seen enough of the world to know that you should never trust one without proof she was honest.
Even his own mother made no bones about the fact that she’d married his father more for security than love, though the marriage must have worked on some level, because they were still together and seemed happy, at least outwardly.
“Women in my day didn’t have the choices available to men,” she’d explained. “I had to marry wealth. I grew up with it, and I wasn’t keen to give it up. Fortunately your father was willing to keep me in the manner to which I’d become accustomed.”
Cooper had never been sure if she was joking or not.
If Johnny’s honest intention was to renege on his promise to his nephews and cut them out of his will, Cooper was willing to honor his uncle’s wishes. But he considered it his responsibility to be absolutely sure they weren’t all being hoodwinked.
ARLEN CALDWELL WAS CLOSE to eighty years old, but his mind was as sharp as any twenty-year-old’s. Unfortunately his eyes weren’t; he inspected his photocopy of Johnny’s will with a magnifying glass.
He and Allie were seated in his office, which was small and unassuming. The carpeting had a worn track where the attorney no doubt paced as he worked out exactly how he would help his clients to prevail. His leather desk chair was scuffed at the corners, and he still used a wooden file cabinet.
But everything was neat and scrupulously clean, thanks to his longtime secretary, Janice, who didn’t mind running a dust cloth over the furniture now and then.
Arlen was a good lawyer, and his age was actually a point in his favor. Sometimes opposing attorneys underestimated him, falling for his doddering-old-fool act.
“It’s all just as I remember it,” he said after ten minutes of close scrutiny. “It’s entirely proper. So long as the date on this will supersedes the other, and no one can prove Johnny was coerced or incompetent, this will stands.”
Allie wasn’t entirely relieved. “Coerced or incompetent” left a lot of wiggle room.
“’Course, we’ll want a sworn statement from Jane Simone that she did witness Johnny signing the will and that he wasn’t drunk or crazy. Is she from around here?”
“She lives in Houston, but I’m sure she won’t mind making a statement. She’s a good friend. She would even come down here and testify in person, I’m sure. She just needs to know when so she can make arrangements for childcare and such.”
Jane had an adorable little girl named Kaylee. Her husband couldn’t be counted on to baby-sit-he was a workaholic. Sometimes she wondered why he’d bought the beautiful cabin cruiser, because he seldom sailed it. Jane usually came down just with Kaylee.
“Johnny wasn’t back on the bottle, was he?” Arlen asked.
“No, sir, absolutely not. I hadn’t seen him drink a drop this century.”
“What about the cancer drugs? The pain meds? Did they make him groggy or loopy?”
“Some. But he didn’t like that, so he usually only took one pain pill right before bed so he could sleep. I can assure you he was awake and alert the day he wrote his will, and Jane will back me up.”
“I have to ask you this, Allie, but whose idea was it that he write a new will?”
“It was his,” she answered without hesitation. “I’d put a lot of my own money into upkeep of the Dragonfly, and he was worried that I’d lose everything when he died. He wanted to protect me. He said he was estranged from his family and they didn’t care anything about an old boat.”
“Oh. You have financial records, I hope.”
“Absolutely. I make detailed notes about every transaction having to do with the business. I brought copies.” She placed the manila envelope she’d brought with her on his desk.
He patted her hand in a grandfatherly gesture. “Don’t you worry. We’ll send those Yankees back to New York with their tails between their legs.”
“I hope you’re right.” She stood up. “How much do you reckon this will cost me?”
“Well, let’s see…court fees, photocopies, parking-a hundred dollars, give or take.”
“What about your fee?”
“This one’s on me, kiddo. Johnny would haunt me from the grave if I let those big-city boys push you around.”
ALLIE FELT A LITTLE BETTER about things, until she returned to the Dragonfly and found Cooper standing on the dock with Pete Dodson, inspecting the boat’s hull. Now what was he doing hanging around with that scalawag?
“Oh, good morning, Allie,” Cooper said when he saw her approaching. “Where’ve you been so bright and early?”
“Seeing my lawyer,” she said pointedly.
“Hey, Allie,” Pete said. “Your new partner here’s hired me to do some paintin’. ’Bout time, too. The old girl is lookin’ pretty shabby.”
“Oh, really?” She stared daggers at Cooper. “Mr. Remington, might I have a word with you in private?” She turned without waiting for his agreement, unlocked the hatch, and went below.
Cooper followed, looking bewildered. “Something wrong?”
She poured herself some cold coffee and stuck it in the microwave. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Number one, there’s no money in the budget for painting. Number two, if there was money, we would do it in the winter, not right when the tourist season is upon us. Number three, if it was winter, and if we had money in the budget to paint, we would not hire Pete.”
“What’s wrong with Pete? He says he’ll give us the best price.”
“He’ll give us a quote, and then he’ll nickel-and-dime us to death, or he’ll walk off and leave the job half done because someone else has offered him a more lucrative job. Plus, he’s the slowest painter in all of Texas.”
“Well, hell, Allie. I thought I was doing a good thing. The boys and I were brainstorming ways to bring in more customers and charge them more. Anyway, I was just talking to Pete. I haven’t actually hired him. I was going to talk to several boat painters. And I was going to pay for it.”