Chapter 9

The lawyer’s office felt like an airless vacuum after Russell Crawford stormed out. His anger had crackled like lightning, filling the air with the scent of ozone. Athena rubbed her damp palms on her skirt and fixed her gaze on Jennifer Smythe. “Okay, he’s gone. Now tell me why I’m here and why that man hates me.”

The lawyer strode to a teak table set against the far wall and hefted a metal carafe and poured water into a glass. She removed the lid on an insulated container and used a pair of metal tongs to lift out a couple of ice cubes and plunked them into the water. She handed the glass to Athena. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Athena agreed. She definitely could do with a drink. Just not the water the lawyer was offering. “Thank you.” Condensation filmed the cold glass, and the ice cubes clinked when she raised the glass to her lips and sipped, fueling her desperate need for a highball. The water soothed her parched throat, but not the ravenous beast lurking inside. She drained the glass and set it on the desk. “I really do have to get going. I left my dog in the kennel, and he won’t be happy if I’m not back tonight.”

Jennifer exhaled a deep breath. “How well do you know the Crawfords?”

“The Crawfords?” A bitter laugh escaped Athena’s mouth. “I only know one Crawford—Angus Crawford—and believe me, that’s enough for a lifetime.”

Jennifer eyed her, and Athena had the uneasy certainty the lawyer was trying to peer into the depths of her soul. She wouldn’t want the woman to cross-examine her on the witness stand. Not if she was guilty of a crime. She’d spill everything she’d ever done wrong.

Jennifer marched around her desk and sank onto her chair. She studied Athena for another long moment. “As I said, Russell Crawford is my client.”

“I…I don’t understand. His last name is really Crawford? Is he related to Angus Crawford?” As soon as the question formed, she knew the answer. Of course, he was related to Angus. It was too much of a coincidence that a man named Crawford just happened to be visiting the same lawyer at the exact time as she was. And what about their accidental meeting in the park in Calgary? Was that staged? Was he the person who’d been following her these past months, whose eyes she felt on her back? She shivered. “I didn’t know Angus Crawford had any children.”

“Angus Crawford adopted him when Russell was fourteen.” Jennifer’s voice was calm and soothing as if she feared further upsetting Athena.

Athena’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “He’s Angus’s son?” The handsome hunk was Angus Crawford’s adopted son. “Really?” But that unfortunate filial relationship didn’t explain Russ’s animosity. There had to be more to the story.

“He was.” The lawyer nodded, her glossy brown curls bouncing with each bob of her head.

Wait a minute. Was? The lawyer said Russell Crawford was Angus Crawford’s son. “What are you saying? Is…is Angus Crawford dead?”

“He passed away six months ago.”

“He’s really dead?” Could it be true? The man she blamed for murdering her parents, the boogeyman of her nightmares, was dead? Shock struck first, followed by a tidal wave of relief. Hallelujah! No longer did she have to fear she’d run into him on the street, or that he’d show up at her door. Angus Crawford was dead. There was a just God.

“I’m afraid he is. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Athena snorted. “My loss?” She snickered, a brittle crack of sound. “I suppose it’s too much to hope he died a slow, painful death.”

“Mr. Crawford suffered a massive heart attack. I believe it was quick.” Jennifer frowned and clasped her hands on her desk. “Would you like me to continue?”

Athena nodded, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what the lawyer wanted with her. If the meeting was to tell her of Angus’s demise, then the trip was worth it. But there was something in Jennifer’s steady gaze that set her on edge with the certainty more shocking news was on the way. She clasped her hands on her lap and squeezed until her fingers ached. “Go ahead.”

“As you can imagine, an estate the size of Angus Crawford’s takes time to settle, especially in a case where there’s…er…the potential for contention. There are also numerous legal procedures—”

Athena held up her hand. Corporate law was her specialty, but she knew enough about Estate law to know she wasn’t going to like where this meeting was heading. “I’ve heard enough.” She stood and gathered her purse. “I appreciate you contacting me to let me know of Angus Crawford’s demise, but you could have phoned and saved me the trip.”

“Wait. Please. I’m afraid I haven’t been clear.” Jennifer tugged on her earlobe. “Angus Crawford named you as a beneficiary in his last will and testament. He bequeathed you the majority of his estate.”

Athena froze. “He left me his estate. His entire estate?”

“For the most part, yes.” Jennifer cleared her throat. “Aside from a sizable bequest to his son, and a few relatively minor endowments to his long-time employees, and various charitable organizations, he left you everything.”

Athena pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed. Had she fallen into an alternate universe? None of what Jennifer Smythe said made sense. Why would Angus Crawford leave her anything? She hardly knew him. All these years she’d both feared and hated him, blamed him for her parents’ disappearance. And now this?

“It’s a substantial amount.”

“How…how much?” The question slipped out. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want anything of Angus Crawford’s.

The lawyer’s eyes flickered as she named a vast sum of money.

Athena rocked back on her heels. “That much. Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say. Her head ached as she struggled to make sense of Jennifer Smythe’s shocking revelation, but she couldn’t wrap her brain around Angus Crawford, her sworn enemy, leaving her his fortune. She swallowed, her mouth arid dry. To hell with sobriety. If she’d ever needed a drink, she needed one now. The second she walked out of there she was hitting a bar.

“There’s more.” Jennifer tapped the papers on the desk in front of her. “He also left you his shares in his privately held company, Crawford Industries.” She smiled. “Congratulations, Ms. Reynolds, you are now a very wealthy woman. Angus Crawford must have cared for you a great deal.”

Nausea roiled in Athena’s gut, and beads of perspiration popped out on her brow. She ignored her discomfort and zeroed her scrutiny in on the other woman. “That doesn’t make sense. I didn’t know him, not really. Why would he leave me so much?”

Jennifer shrugged, the movement sending her curls dancing about her plump face. “I’m not privy to that information. I wasn’t the attorney who drew up the will. That’s why I wasn’t aware of your name change or your current home address. If Angus Crawford knew your current name, he chose to keep that fact a secret, or he was unaware of the change.” A sympathetic look crossed her face. “The person to ask would be the executor of the estate.”

“Executor?”

The woman nodded, and the coil of tight curls danced. “You met him today.”

Athena stiffened. “Russ—I mean, that man who was in here—he’s the executor of Angus Crawford’s estate?”

Jennifer nodded, initiating another wave of bouncing curls. “Russell Crawford hired my firm’s services to locate the main beneficiary of his father’s estate—” She paused and stared pointedly at Athena. “—you.”

A maelstrom of thoughts tumbled through her…Angus Crawford was dead…she was the main beneficiary of his will…the hot hunk from the park was Angus’s son—adopted—but still his son. And he was the executor of Angus’s will. Her headache ramped up.

“There’s one more thing you should know.”

Athena groaned inwardly. Judging by the grim expression on the lawyer’s face, she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. With a supreme effort, she pushed down the yawning ache to lose herself in a bottle and figure out why the hell her world had turned upside down and inside out. “What is it?”

“Angus Crawford willed Shelter Island to his son.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Shelter Island! How long had it been since she’d heard that name? Months? Years? And now this was the second time in the past hour that the island had been mentioned. She closed off a swirl of painful memories. The pieces clicked into place. “So that’s why he was here today. He was claiming his rights to Shelter Island.” If that was the case, Russ could have the island. It was all his. No problem. No problem at all.

For the first time since Athena met the lawyer, Jennifer looked uncomfortable. “Uh…ah…that’s not why Russell was here.”

Athena arched her eyebrows. “No?”

Jennifer shook her head. “He’s disputing his father’s will.”

Athena ran her fingers through her hair, uncaring she was rumpling the carefully coifed style she’d spent a half-hour working on that morning. Her gaze skittered around the office. Surely a high-end law firm like Smythe & Sons would have a bar with bottles of pricey scotch and vodka for their well-heeled clients. She bit the inside of her cheek. The sharp pain overrode the yearning in her head, and she focused on why she was there. “What exactly is he disputing?”

“He’s not happy with the will. He believes Angus Crawford was not of sound mind when he made his last will and testament, and that you exerted undue influence over a lonely old man.”

Athena laughed a bitter, harsh sound that burned like acid in her throat. The man she detested more than any other person on Earth had left her his estate, and now his son was fighting her for it. Well, he could have the whole damn thing. “That’s something he and I can agree on.” She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Angus must have suffered from severe dementia when he considered leaving me part of his estate. I hardly knew him, and I certainly didn’t like him.” She lurched to her feet and jammed her hands on her hips. “Where can I find Russell Crawford?”

“I can arrange a meeting with him tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Tell me where he is.” Heat rose in her cheeks, but she ignored the avid curiosity shining in the other woman’s eyes. She didn’t owe her an explanation. “Look, Ms. Smythe…Jennifer, I flew out here and met with you in good faith. You owe me. I just want to talk to Russ. That’s all, a simple conversation.”

Jennifer wrung her pudgy hands, and her gaze shifted around the office.

The heavy silence stretched until Athena thought she’d scream.

Jennifer stopped fidgeting and met Athena’s gaze. “I believe Russ said he was going sailing this afternoon.”

“He has a boat?” Of course, he did. The man probably owned a sixty-foot luxury yacht manned by a crew of gorgeous, half-naked women. Why not? Angus Crawford had been rich. His son was probably swimming in money. “Where?”

“He keeps his boat at the Blue Vista Marina in White Rock.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Athena spun toward the door but paused on the threshold when the lawyer spoke.

“What are you going to do?” Jennifer patted her hand on the folder. “About the estate, I mean. What are your plans?”

“I’ll let you know.” She strode out of the office and down the hall to the elevator. With each step, her desire for alcohol faded, and her determination grew. She’d confront Russell Crawford and shove his father’s estate in his handsome face. She wasn’t a frightened twelve-year-old. Not anymore. She refused to be intimidated by anyone, especially a Crawford.