THE BIG STRETCH LIMO slowly snaked its attention-grabbing way through the small fishing village of Hanscomb Harbor. In the spacious and luxurious passenger cabin behind the chauffeur reposed James Henry “Hank” Madison, III. Accompanying him was his very recently deceased grandfather’s longtime friend and family attorney, Jim Thornton, a man only a little younger than James Senior had been at the time of his death less than a week ago.
This was no social outing, which was just as well because Hank was in no mood to enjoy anything about this trip. Not the usually pleasurable ride in his Learjet, which he sometimes piloted. Not the beautiful countryside they’d passed by on their way here. Certainly not this damn backwater village. And especially not one particular woman who lived here.
“I swear, Jim, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This is just like the old man to pull a stunt like this.”
“Stunt? How in God’s name could his sudden death be a stunt, Hank? This just happened. It wasn’t planned.”
Hank exhaled, feeling guilty. “I didn’t really mean that. It’s just unfair, dammit. I wanted to be here when this happened. But there I was in Australia. Halfway around the world.”
Jim sat forward to give Hank’s knee a quick and comforting pat. “Now, don’t beat yourself up, son. You got back here as quick as you could. Think of this as a sad and unfortunate event of timing. No one saw his end coming this quickly. Not even his doctors.”
“I know that. I’ve settled that in my mind. But what about the rest of it, Jim? What do I do with that? If I’d known at all that he’d die and rush his own funeral in some out-of-the-way town I’d never heard of before, I wouldn’t have gone to Australia. Hell, I would have stepped in a lot earlier and put a stop to things with that woman.”
“I know you would have.” Jim Thornton, a bulldog of a man more than forty years Hank’s senior, bore many titles, among them the presidencies and chairmanships of many political and charitable foundations. But today he rode along in his capacity as trusted family friend as much as senior partner in an internationally famous law firm that handled the affairs of the rich and famous, both of which Hank was. “You look exhausted, son.”
Hank rubbed at his gritty-tired eyes. “I am. Over thirty hours of flying time just to get to the East Coast. I barely had time to shower and catch a meal.”
“We didn’t have to come here today, Hank. You could have rested.”
“No,” Hank said stubbornly. “We had to come here today. The sooner the better. I just want to meet this woman, see what I’m up against, and then we can get out of here.”
Jim exhaled dramatically. “It’s not that simple.”
“Nothing ever is where my grandfather is concerned.” Hank shook his head. “Or was. Did you know about this place, Jim? Or this woman? Before now, I mean. Hell, did anyone know what was going on with him?” Hank beat himself up with the guilty judgment that he should have known. But how could he? James Senior had been, to put it mildly, eccentric.
“Your grandfather and I were friends, Hank. I wasn’t his keeper or his nursemaid. He didn’t owe me—or you—an explanation for his whereabouts or his activities. But, hell, I thought he was at his house on Long Island and under the eye of his housekeeper. I had no idea he was slipping away to come here. In fact, I only found out about this place when he was rushed to the hospital in Indian Neck, like I told you.”
“That’s right. How did you know he was in the hospital? Or even which one?”
“Gerta. James asked a nurse to call her so Gerta could send for me.”
“I don’t get it. Why call his housekeeper? Why didn’t he just have the nurse call you directly?” Jim’s beetling expression clearly communicated his desire not to answer the question. But Hank wouldn’t let him off that easily. “Come on, Jim, it can’t be any worse than it is now.”
Jim exhaled gustily. “All right. He called Gerta because he didn’t bring Beamer with him this time, and he wanted to … say goodbye to his dog.”
Hank chuckled fatalistically. “Well, there you have it. The old man’s priorities.”
“Now, don’t do that, Hank. Your grandfather spoke mostly of you at the end.”
“What did he say? ‘Take care of the dog’?”
“That’s not funny. He said to tell you how much he loved you. If you’d been in New York, he would have called for you. You have to know that.”
Hurt and grief warred with guilt inside Hank. “I don’t know. But maybe.”
Jim leaned forward, toward Hank. “I know you’ve suffered a huge loss whether you want to act like it or not. We all have. Hell, James was my best friend for over fifty years. Like a brother to me. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t see his faults, too, Hank. We all know what he was like.”
Hank’s chuckle had nothing to do with humor. “So we’re going to call his antics ‘faults’?”
“Okay, so the old coot was crazier than a loon about some things. But his heart was good and he loved you. He did some funny things, that’s for sure.” Jim chuckled and prodded Hank to join him. “He was like Elvis. Giving away money and cars and houses to strangers. And yes he was open to all kinds of scams. But he had a good heart, Hank, and he never did any harm.”
Thinking of the reason for this visit, Hank remained un-amused. “No harm, Jim? Then why am I here now? Who is this woman? And what has my grandfather done this one final time that I’ll have to straighten out?”
Jim was suddenly the attorney. “I’m bound by your grandfather’s wishes, Hank. Until the reading of the will, my hands are legally tied.”
“I just hope mine aren’t.” Hank waited, but Jim had no comeback to that. That was not good.
Hank directed his attention out the limo’s tinted window and worried. What in the hell had the old man gotten himself into? All Hank knew was there was a woman at the end of this ride who needed to be present at the reading of his grandfather’s new will. His new will. In Hank’s book, that could only mean one thing. His sweet old grandfather, former business tycoon who’d made a huge fortune in the advertising business, on both Madison Avenue and Wall Street, and who had possibly been going benignly senile, had been taken in by a gold digger with a sob story. Great. Just lovely. Jim kept denying that, but Hank thought he knew better. After all, it had happened before. And more than once. How many times had Hank had to pay some scheming woman off in order to extricate James Senior from her clutches? Three? Four?
Dammit. It looked like number five was around the bend. Hank took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. But it did nothing to calm him. He turned to Jim, only to realize the older man had been watching him with a grin and a speculative expression on his face. “All right, Jim, what’s so funny? You keep looking at me as if you can’t wait to see what happens next.”
Jim chuckled. “That’s because I can’t.”
“That answer is wearing thin here. Come on, talk to me. I have a right to know. Who is this woman we’re going to meet? What was she to my grandfather? What’s he done?”
Jim held up a hand. “Patience, my boy. Patience. You’ll know in due time.”
Hank hated condescension almost as much as he hated a mystery, especially one that involved his family and his livelihood, if not his fortune. That being so, he spoke more harshly, and more crudely, than he ever had before to Jim. “Spare me the client–attorney privilege crap, okay? He may have been your client and even your friend, but he was my blood, Jim. Mine. Not yours. So tell me what the hell is up.”
Jim’s face darkened, his eyebrows veed down over his nose. “You’re hurting right now, Hank. I’m going to keep that in mind. But don’t tell me I’m not family. I held your mama when you were just a baby and she cried over your daddy getting killed in Vietnam. Hell, I even diapered your bottom. And I’m the one who made trips out to California to check on the two of you after she moved you there. And I gave you your first flying lessons when you came back East at eighteen. Don’t you go forgetting any of that history.”
Hank had gone over a line and he knew it. “I’m sorry, Jim. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You are family. You and Mary, both. Like parents to me. I mean that. It’s just, well, you know how the old man was. Damn, I could never relax. It seems I’ve spent about half my time dealing with his disasters. Cleaning up after him was like fighting wildfires. You never knew when or where the next one would crop up. Mother says he was always that way. Goodhearted yet crazy as hell. She said it took more energy than she had just to be around him.”
Jim’s laugh said he’d let go of his anger. “I hear you. The old man was all that and more, wasn’t he? Never met a stranger for whom he didn’t open his wallet. Now, speaking of your mother, have you told her yet about this woman and the will?”
“Please. You know what Lady Lillian is like. She’s another one who needs an adult to be in charge of her.”
Jim’s gaze roved over Hank, and his expression softened. “You never got to be a kid, did you, Hank? All your life you’ve had to parent your mother and your grandfather. Always be on guard. It’s no wonder you never relax.”
Hank shrugged off Jim’s observation. “It wasn’t all that bad. I had fun. When I was a kid. But about Mother, I’ll tell her later. She tends to go off like a rocket. And right now I just want to do this myself and in my own way.”
Jim’s grunt made as much of a point as did his words that followed it. “James Senior said the same thing to me. He wanted to do this himself, his own way. That stubborn, independent streak does run strong in the Madison blood. I’ve certainly seen plenty of evidence of it over the years.”
Hank chose not to respond to that. Instead, he again gazed out the tinted window to his left. His mind chose to show him a scene from his past … him making the decision as a skinny, uncertain high school graduate to leave his mother and California to come back East and attend Harvard. Sixteen years ago. In that time, Jim had guided him, had talked easily with him of such manly things as women, boating, malt liquors, women, business, golf, women, sports, the stock market, women, things like that.
Jim had shown him how to be a man. It was that simple. And Jim’s wife Mary had spoiled Hank terribly. Still did. With no children of her own, she called him her adopted son. What would he have done without her? She was warm, loving, stable, sweet, where his real mother was flamboyant and impossible—but a tiger where he was concerned, that was true. She fiercely loved her only child. So did Mary. And so did Jim. They were a family. Not by anyone else’s definition, maybe. But a family nonetheless—
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”
Jim’s cheery comment yanked Hank back to the moment. “I hadn’t noticed. Too damned tired, I guess.”
“Or too deep in thought,” Jim said. “Look around you. My God, it’s great here. I can see why James Senior loved Hanscomb Harbor. I wouldn’t mind spending some time here myself. How about you?”
“Don’t bet on it. I won’t be staying here any longer than I have to. And after that, I’ll never be back, Jim.”
“Never say ‘never,’ son.”
Again, Hank heard nothing there that required a response. He sank back against the tufted leather of the seat and lapsed into silence as he stared out his window and watched the picturesque village slip by in seeming slow motion. They had no choice but to proceed at a snail’s pace. Given the narrowness of the curved lanes, some of them cobbled, his chauffeur Burton was forced to maneuver the stretch limo with great care. Surprising Hank was the realization that suddenly the harbor town on the other side of the darkly tinted window was capturing his attention. He hadn’t expected that it would.
Hank had been to many New England fishing villages in his life. But this one was different somehow. Charming and picturesque, yes. But to the point of surreal. It was disconcertingly like a theme park come to life. Clean, well kept, orderly. There should have been a fence around it and someone in a booth at the town’s entrance who was taking money and handing out tickets. Actors should have been walking around in period clothing. He looked for a sign telling visitors what time this place closed. Just look at this. The quaint buildings and shops, the weathered boats, and the crusty old fishermen, even the tourists, looked handpicked for realism.
It was too much. There was even the requisite town square with its gazebo, the bait and tackle shop that offered fishing excursions, the expected tavern, many brightly painted houses, and even two steepled churches. And a lighthouse. It looked more like a movie set of a New England fishing village than it did an actual town. Hank believed he wouldn’t have been surprised had some movie director stepped up to yell, “Cut!”
“I really wish you would have waited until the reading of the will, Hank, to meet her,” Jim said into the silence. “This trip is unnecessary and ill-advised.”
“I think that’s about the fourth time you’ve said that since we left New York. I heard you on the ride to the airport, then during our flight, again when we landed, and now here. So, point taken, all right?”
Jim sat forward and ran a hand over his round and balding head. “I’m not so sure it was, Hank. You hear me, but you’re not listening. I told you yesterday that I sent Miss Copeland a letter notifying her that the reading of the will is set for next Tuesday. She wouldn’t even have gotten my notification until today. And may not even know about it yet, if her mail hasn’t come.”
“I promise you that late mail will be the least of her problems after today. And this Miss Copeland woman, what do we know about her? Don’t tell me something stupid like my grandfather married her right before he died.”
“No. Nothing as lock, stock, and legal barrel as that. I believe they were just friends. But I am sorry you found out about her before next Tuesday.”
Hank stared at Jim’s heavy-boned, jowly face. Though he loved and respected this man, he’d always thought Jim’s head was too big for his body. “You’re sorry I found out about her? What were you going to do? Just spring her on me on Tuesday?”
“That was how James Senior wanted it done, yes.”
Exasperation ate at Hank. Could his grandfather have been more quirky? “Why? What’s the need for all this secrecy? I don’t get it. I’m just glad that your junior associate—what’s his name?”
“John Carouthers.”
“Right. John Carouthers. I’m just glad that he told me.”
“Well, you’re the only one. Carouthers has a lot to learn before he becomes a partner. If he becomes a partner. Look, I saw how the news hit you when he let it slip that he’d been at the hospital in Indian Neck with me the night your grandfather died. And that’s why I insisted on coming along today, Hank. I think it only fair to tell you before you meet Miss Copeland that what James did and how he handled his affairs … well, it wasn’t like you make it seem.”
“Oh, I think it is, Jim. I think it’s exactly how it seems.”
“And I’m telling you that it isn’t. I’ve met her. You haven’t.”
“So you keep saying.”
Planting his elbows atop his knees, Jim knit his fingers together into one fist and held them against his lips. For long silent moments, he stared at Hank across the leather-seated, thick-carpeted, luxurious car. Finally he moved his hands and spoke. “I advised him against his course of action, Hank, just as I advised you against this one. There was no real need for you to come here just to see what she’s like. But James Senior didn’t listen to me any better than you are right now. All I can tell you is that he loved you very much. And he did what he’s done out of love for you.”
Hank’s strong emotions had him sitting forward. “Jim, he did what he’s done, as you put it, because he was nuts. I loved him, but he wasn’t even on the chart. Neither is my mother. Which makes me worry about myself. But the point is, we should have had him declared incompetent years ago.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“Well, it certainly seems so from where I’m sitting. That would have at least given me a reason, something to point at when I try to understand why he behaved the way he did.”
Jim exhaled softly. “I do know what you mean. I can’t pretend that I ever understood him, not in his later years. I sometimes wonder, though—and I don’t mean to hurt you—if he did the things he did to get more of your attention, Hank.”
Startled by that, Hank sat back. “Mine? I saw him every day unless I was…” He didn’t want to say the word, but he was too honest. “Busy.” The emotions hit him like a blow. “Unless I was too busy. Damn, Jim. What’s wrong with me? Did I ignore him?”
“If you did, it was because you had to, son. Hell, you took over Madison and Madison—one of the largest advertising firms in the world—when you were right out of college. And you’ve worked your butt off since then to make it even more successful. There’s only one of you, so don’t be hard on yourself. I was just talking out the side of my mouth. Ignore me.”
Hank wanted to, but he couldn’t. Retreating into his troubled thoughts, he wondered if maybe Jim was right. Maybe—
“I have to tell you, Hank,” Jim said, breaking into the silence between them, “that I hope you haven’t come here to take out your frustrations with James on this unsuspecting woman.”
“Unsuspecting? Like hell she is. She’s evidently a major player here. Still, give me some credit. I’ll behave.” Hank searched his mood, then added, “I think. Maybe. It depends.”
“Oh, Christ. Depends on what?” Jim’s brow wrinkled with obvious concern.
“On whether or not she’s another gold digger who took advantage of my grandfather.”
“She’s not.”
“Now how the hell do you know that? She had to know who he was and what he was worth.”
“Oh, I’m sure she did. But I don’t think it mattered to her. I really don’t.”
The cynical side of Hank had him all but snorting. “Now, how would you know that?”
“Because I’ve met her twice. Once at the hospital and then briefly at the funeral the other day. And I talked with James about her. She didn’t strike me as a gold digger at all. Remember, I deal with that kind of thing all the time with some of my clients. So I know one when I see one.”
“Maybe.”
Jim pinched his lips into a stubborn pucker. “We’ll see soon enough, Hank. But I think you’ll be surprised. Pleasantly so.”
“Right.”
Just then, an electronic whisper of sound alerted Hank that Burton had pushed the button to lower the darkened privacy window that separated the chauffeur from his passengers. The glass smoothly disappeared into its casing, showing Hank the back of Burton’s head and George’s head. Sandwiched between the two brawny bodyguards was a glimpse of the bright day outside. Hank could see that the cobblestoned street meandered off to the right, taking with it the land. Ahead of them and to their left was only ocean and sky.
Looking into the rearview mirror, Hank met his driver’s gaze looking back at him. “We’re here, Mr. Madison.”
“Thank you, Burton.” Hank returned his attention to Jim Thornton. And suddenly saw a balding sad old man who’d just lost his best friend ever and his first client. A man whose suit swallowed him like it was a too-big sack. He saw a man he’d known and cared about all his life. A man who’d had a hard job to do and had been caught in the middle. The messenger. They always kill the messenger. “Jim,” Hank began, “I’m sorry if I’m taking this out on you. And I’m glad you’re here today to keep me from behaving like such an ass.”
Jim smiled. “You’re a good man, Hank. And I know you’ll do the right thing.” He sat forward, gesturing excitedly to the outside. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Miss Copeland. Give her a chance. You might find that you like her as much as James Senior did.”
“I doubt it,” Hank said sourly, a last vestige of resistance wriggling about inside him. She was probably some middle-aged sharpie who’d latched on to a rich old dying man in order to secure her own future. Give her a chance? Hell, he’d give her a payoff, was more like it, and never see her again. He had a nice round number in mind, something in the low seven figures. It had worked before and it would work now. Having ordered that in his mind, Hank felt ready to meet this Miss Copeland. He directed his attention to his driver. “All right, Burton. Let’s do it.”
“Yes, sir.” Burton and George exited the limo, closed their doors, and opened the back doors for Hank and Jim to step outside into the warm sunshine of the summer day.
With Jim at his back, Hank stepped out of his limo and onto a narrow strip of tree-shaded, slightly buckled sidewalk that fronted the perfect gift shop for this town. He checked out this territory with the sharp eye of a marauding knight about to lay siege to an embattled castle. Bay window for displays. An array of summer and beach items colorfully graced the window. The building itself was shingled with pinkish weathered wood. A low gabled roof. Beveled-glass panes in the door. A sign constructed of a heavy plank of wood hung from two big brass hooks. Maddie’s Gifts, it said. Not very inventive. But still, she was a shop owner, so Hank could applaud her entrepreneurial spirit, if nothing else.
“What do you think?” Jim said, sounding like a hopeful, helpful realtor. “This place has potential, if you ask me.”
Hank turned to his grandfather’s friend. “Potential for what?”
“Real growth development, Hank. Come on, use your creative eye here. You’re the wonder kid of advertising. This whole town could use a dose of savvy publicity, don’t you think?”
“A dose of something, all right,” Hank muttered, his hands planted at his waist as he squinted judgmentally at the storefront. Just then he caught a glimpse of a bobbing white head attached to an elderly woman inside the shop. As he watched, she crossed from one side of the display window to the other—in the direction of the door. Hank turned to Jim. “Let me guess. That’s Miss Copeland, right?”
Before Jim could answer, the shop door opened with the musical accompaniment of a tiny tinkling bell. The grandmotherly woman in a parrot-green pantsuit called it a “stupid ass of a freaking bell” and then poked her white head outside to glare at him and Jim. “Well, are you coming in or not?” she wanted to know. “The suspense is killing us.”
* * *
Oh, Lord, what now? At the back of her shop, behind the jewelry counter where the cash register resided, Maddie abandoned the account books spread in front of her and stared at her employee’s back. Celeste had just called out rudely to the people exiting a black limo. Maddie’s field of vision was partially blocked by the many gift-laden display units that crowded between her and the shop’s front bay window. But from what she could see, there were two men. Two really big humorless men with bull necks and football shoulders. And they were advancing on her shop.
They had guns under those suit coats. Maddie couldn’t see any weapons, but she just knew the men were carrying guns—guns they would probably use to shoot Celeste before this little exchange was over. The prospect didn’t frighten Maddie. She knew mere bullets would only bounce off that ornery woman who was also able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Maddie felt it only fair that she should rescue the unsuspecting men from Celeste. She hurried out from around the counter. But as with most well-intentioned acts, she was too late. She stopped. The men were inside. Their crew cuts, aviator’s sunglasses, and dark suits did nothing to alleviate Maddie’s tension. Silently they looked the shop’s interior over. Automatically Maddie did the same, wondering what they expected to find. She couldn’t detect anything amiss or the least bit threatening. Well, except for Celeste. Maddie again faced the men, who had yet to speak. Who were these guys? Were they gangsters? Were they from the government? It was hard to tell the difference these days.
Then, apparently satisfied that everything was okay, and with their feet apart and their hands folded together loosely in front of them, they stared impassively down at Celeste. She stood about as high as their belt buckles, yet hadn’t backed down one inch. Her arms were crossed under her bosom as she flagrantly looked them up and down. She then pivoted to look over her shoulder at Maddie. The older woman’s brown eyes were widened in wonder. “Just look at the size of the pair of them, will you? I saw pillars in the Coliseum in Rome that weren’t this big.”
“Dear God.” Maddie rushed forward, grabbing Celeste by the arm and tugging her back as she fussed into the older woman’s ear. “You have never been to Rome. Not even Rome, Georgia. Now let the nice men inside to look around.” She smiled at the nice men. “Please. Come in. Look around. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
The two men didn’t move or speak. Maddie’s eyes rounded with the mystery of it all.
Just then, Celeste clutched Maddie by the bib on her red shop-apron and pulled her closer. “See those bulges there under their coats?” she whispered loud enough to be heard several blocks away at the noisy arcade. “Those aren’t their happy meters, I’ll wager. No, ma’am. Those are guns.”
Breathless with shocked embarrassment, Maddie frantically whispered into Celeste’s ear. “I know they are. So will you stop digging our graves with your words, please?”
Celeste pulled back, her mouth already opening with a retort that was never spoken because the two big men suddenly and silently moved apart, one to each side, and allowed—surprise!—two other men to enter the shop single file.
Maddie gasped. She recognized the first man advancing through the door. “I know you,” she said, releasing Celeste as she went to greet him. “You were at the hospital. And James’s funeral, weren’t you?”
The older man approached her, smiling, his big hammy hand held out to her. “Yes, Miss Copeland, I was. Jim Thornton. It’s nice to see you—”
“Oh, wait just a damned minute here.”
Startled by the other, younger man suddenly pushing his way between her and Mr. Thornton, even as he interrupted their conversation, Maddie took a step back and stared the way of the interloper. And forgot how to breathe. Zing! went the suddenly alive strings of her heart. They fairly vibrated with awareness. Maddie had to stiffen her knees. The man standing in front of her was some serious GQ cover-model material. How in the name of every female hormone that was supposed to be on the job could she have overlooked him?
This man, whoever he was, with his athletic good looks and his dark hair and piercing black eyes, reeked of affluence and sensuality. To say she had trouble breathing, much less standing, was an understatement. In fact, she had all she could do not to look up to the ceiling and mouth, Good job, God.
Yes, the man was all that. And he was mad, too. Despite being entranced by his physical self, Maddie could only stand helplessly by as he railed at Mr. Thornton. “Are you kidding me here, Jim? And you said this wasn’t what I thought. Like hell it isn’t. I know exactly what this is. Look at her.” The Adonis jerked a thumb Maddie’s startled way. “She’s young, a blue-eyed blonde and gorgeous. No wonder James Senior raced here every summer. Christ, I would, too.”
Maddie didn’t know whether to be complimented or insulted.
But Celeste did. “Hey, easy now, young fella. You can’t come in here calling Maddie a gorgeous blue-eyed blonde. You take that back—or you’ll answer to me.”
Maddie tugged her little bulldog employee back to her side. “It’s okay, Celeste. Those aren’t bad things he said, honey. I’ll take it from here.” She smiled at the younger man, who didn’t return it, and felt a bit disconcerted. “I don’t think we’ve met, yet you seem to know me. So I’m going to take that to mean your being here today has nothing to do with souvenir shopping. And since you’re here with him”—she indicated the older man—“maybe this has something to do with James?”
The handsome man nodded, looking hard and angry. “You guessed right. James Senior was my grandfather.”
His words bludgeoned their way into Maddie’s consciousness. “Ohmigod. Your grandfather? You’re Hank? You’re James’s little grandson?”
“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Celeste slowly intoned, crossing her arms over her bosom.
Everyone ignored her in favor of staring at Maddie, who felt compelled to explain. “I’m sorry, but that’s how James described you, you know. His little grandson. But you’re not little at all, are you?” The flames already in her cheeks burst with renewed heat. “I mean, you’re certainly not what I expected.”
“I guess I’m not.” His expression hardened. “But you are. You are exactly what I expected. Don’t think this hasn’t happened before or that I don’t know how to deal with women like you. Because I do.” The disgust for her that he felt was evident in his words, but he compounded the insult by giving her a look meant to shame her.
“Excuse me?” As suddenly over him as she had been captivated by him, Maddie bristled with insult. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but James was my friend. And that’s all. So I don’t think I like your insinuations.”
“Neither do I,” Celeste said. “Insinuations won’t cut it around here, young man. If you got something dirty to say, you just say it right out loud where we can all hear it. I know I want to.”
“Celeste, please,” Maddie fussed while tugging her X-rated employee back to her side. “I’ll take care of this.” She then proceeded to do just that. “You,” she said to James’s grandson, “can show some respect, or you can take these two big men here and this man—” Exasperation warring with anger, she turned to the balding man whose head appeared to be too big for his body. “Who are you, anyway?”
He again held out his hand for her to shake. “Jim Thornton. I’m the late James Senior’s friend and attorney, Miss Copeland.”
Ingrained manners prevailed. Maddie shook his hand and nodded civilly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She then rounded on the grandson. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a wonderful man. Now leave.”
Hank Madison bristled, his eyebrows lowering like thunderclouds over his deep-set eyes. “I don’t think you are in a position to be dictating terms here.”
“And yet I am.” Maddie’s heart pounded with the strong emotions of the moment. Despite her anger and her insult, she felt energized and alive in ways she hadn’t been for a long time. She feared it had way too much to do with Hank Madison. “This is my place of business. My property. Hence, my terms, Mr. Madison.”
“Miss Copeland, please,” Jim Thornton soothed, even as he took James’s grandson by the elbow. “We didn’t come here today to upset you.”
“Well, you’ve done exactly that. Because I am very upset. Nor do I have any idea what is going on here or even what this is all about.”
The attorney turned to the younger man. “See? I told you she didn’t. And I told you not to come here today, didn’t I? I told you no good would come of this, Hank. But would you listen to me? No. And now you’ve upset her.”
Hank Madison’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s not all I’m going to do.”
A frisson of fear slipped over Maddie’s skin. She eyed the big men with the guns. They hadn’t moved. Still, she exchanged a worried glance with Celeste. For once the tiny little terrier of a woman had nothing to say. That scared Maddie worse. And because it did, she planted her hands at her waist and forced herself to speak calmly and quietly. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Madison?”
“Hardly. I’m talking about legal options. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” With that, he pulled his arm from Mr. Thornton’s grip, wheeled around, and signaled to the two hit men or whatever they were. “Let’s go.” They fell in behind him, then one slipped around him to open the tinkling-bell door.
Maddie addressed the remaining man, the attorney, who was clearly distraught. “What does he mean, he’ll see me on Tuesday? What’s going on?”
Jim Thornton looked from her to the limo outside. Maddie followed his gaze and saw one of the really big men standing on the sidewalk and holding open the back door of the limo. He made a show of checking the time on his watch. An obvious signal that the attorney needed to hurry. Mr. Thornton exhaled and turned back to her. “Has your mail come today?”
“What? My mail? No.”
Celeste clucked her tongue. “That Mr. Canardy. I swear he brings the mail around when he gets good and ready. Like it’s an imposition on his time. Mind you, it’s not a large post office here, and he is the only one that runs it. But it keeps him busy and out of his poor wife’s hair. She doesn’t have much of that, you know. Hair, I mean. She’s losing it. Could be stress.”
Maddie joined the attorney in quietly staring at Celeste. “Dear, I don’t think Mr. Thornton really cares about all that.”
“Well, he was the one who asked about the mail.”
Mr. Thornton took it from there, addressing Maddie. “I am so sorry all this happened, Miss Copeland. James never meant for it to be like this.”
“James never meant for what to be like this? I still don’t know what’s going on.”
“I know you don’t.” He glanced outside again before speaking hastily to Maddie. “Look for a packet from me in your mail. You should get it today. It’s an official notification of the reading of James’s will on Tuesday.”
“His will? What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re named in it.”
“I’m named in James’s will?”
“Most definitely. Also in the packet you’ll get is your itinerary.”
“My itinerary? What do I need an itinerary for?”
“Your trip to New York City. In case the packet from me isn’t delivered today, let me give you my card. You call me.” He reached into an inside pocket of his suit coat, pulled out a business card, and pressed it into her hand. “See you Tuesday.”
Maddie glanced at the card and then at the man. “What has James done? He’s really upset his grandson, whatever it is.”
Jim Thornton chuckled softly. “Yes, he has. But, you know, Miss Copeland, I think James was right. You are perfect. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” With that, the older man turned and hurried out of the shop.
He almost collided with Mr. Canardy coming in with the mail.