Marisa stiffened. She’d never liked Scott. Apparently, now that Carolyn was gone his animosity was out in the open. “Mr. Overmyer said two o’clock. It’s not yet two.”
Scott’s face smoothed into an aloof mask and Marisa gave him a cold look. She didn’t have to worry about strained relations between them because there wouldn’t be any after Scott left town, and good riddance.
The inner door opened and a man who looked like an advertisement for the seven deadly sins appeared. His pate was balding, his jowls had jowls, his face was florid, and his expanding middle girth strained at his expensive charcoal gray suit. His blue eyes were sharp, assessing, as he took in the three people sitting in the hall. Marisa wondered who the other woman was and whether Carolyn had named her in the will. Perhaps she was a friend from New York City.
“Mr. Wentworth.” The lawyer stuck out his hand.
Scott rose and shook it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve had my secretary drive down to help me clear matters. I’d like her to sit in on the reading so she can take notes.” He waved to the other woman. “This is Brooke Shroyer.”
The statuesque blonde rose and stood beside Scott to shake the lawyer’s hand. As Marisa studied the model-perfect woman, her mouth nearly dropped open. How had Carolyn stood her husband working with this goddess every day? Brooke was five foot nine or ten, willowy, with the long blonde hair that drove men mad.
Marisa’s thoughts careened to a screeching halt as Scott’s words penetrated. She shot to her feet. “I object. This is a private meeting and Miss Shroyer isn’t family … ”
“Neither are you.” Scott’s voice was icy.
“Nor is she included in the will,” Marisa said. “This is going to be stressful enough without strangers salivating over our distress.” She included Scott even though she didn’t think he felt any such thing.
Harlan Overmyer pulled himself to his full height — which was slightly less than Brooke’s — and cleared his throat. “I have to agree with Miss Avalos. This is a private reading.”
Scott’s face flushed. Without a word, Brooke handed over a white legal pad to him. Marisa and Scott followed the lawyer into the tastefully appointed office. Being the Easterlings’ lawyer must pay well.
Harlan sat in his leather chair, put on a pair of stylish reading glasses, and read the will. Carolyn left her parent’s house and surrounding acreage and all its contents, and her portfolio of stocks and bonds to her husband. The seventy percent ownership in the salt plant went to him as well.
“I thought the Easterlings owned the plant outright.” Was that outrage in Scott’s voice?
“They did until a few years ago when they had to modernize. They sold off some shares to finance it instead of taking out a loan. Andrew Easterling always meant to buy the shares back.”
“But thirty percent is a lot of shares. What if I want to sell the plant outright?”
Marisa gasped. Sell the plant?
“You’d have to put the motion before the board of directors for a vote, but you are the majority shareholder.”
“I see.” Scott wrote notes on his pad.
“The salt plant is our main industry,” Marisa said. “It’s always been locally owned.”
“I don’t need a salt plant.”
Marisa’s hands curled into fists. “You’re a businessman and the salt plant is a business in the black. It’s a good investment.”
“Then I won’t have any problem finding a buyer for it. I don’t want to have to return to this place where my wife killed herself.”
Marisa opened her mouth to utter denials.
“Miss Avalos.” Harlan’s carrying voice deflected their attention to him. “Mrs. Wentworth left you her parents’ jewelry, including her mother and father’s wedding rings … ”
“What?” Scott sounded outraged.
“And the locket necklace her father gave her on her sixteenth birthday. It also says here there is a box of mementos in her father’s office you’re to have.”
“Her mother’s wedding ring was three karats,” Scott objected. “It should stay in the family.”
Harlan spoke in a soothing tone. “Carolyn was the last of the Easterlings. She can do as she wishes with her estate.”
“I won’t allow it.”
“I’ve been custodian for the jewelry since Carolyn made her will last year. It’s in a safe deposit box at the bank.”
Scott’s mouth snapped shut, but he glared at Marisa. What a miserly, mercenary man, begrudging some jewelry to someone else when he got millions from his dead wife. Marisa hadn’t wanted the jewelry, especially the wedding rings, but she’d be damned now if she’d offer to let Scott have them. She could donate them to some charity in Caro’s name, or sell them and use the money to do something for the town of Watkins Glen.
Overmyer closed the file. “That takes care of Mrs. Wentworth’s will. Are there any questions?”
Scott spoke immediately. “I want to put the house up for sale as soon as possible. I’ll remove any personal items first, and any furniture I wish to keep. I’ll need to auction the rest. But I’ve got to be back in the city within the week for urgent business. Can you recommend a good realtor and auctioneer, and handle the details of the sale?”
Harlan laid his glasses aside. “Of course. But you might find, after a period of mourning, that you wish you’d kept the house. Maybe you should wait before selling it.”
“But it’s Carolyn’s family home.” Marisa felt sick at the thought of strangers living in the big white house. “She wouldn’t want you to sell it.”
“My wife is dead, Marisa. She has no use for the house now, and I live in New York City. The house means nothing to me, and the town even less. I only came here because Carolyn wanted to. My life with my wife was in the city, not here. Besides, I told you I never intend to return to this place again. It has the stink of death to it. Everywhere I go I’m reminded that my wife killed herself in front of me.”
Marisa felt like she’d been slapped. Scott planned to systematically sell off everything Carolyn’s family had accumulated over the past three generations until all that was left of his wife were the memories. This was awful. She was glad Carolyn wasn’t there to see her husband’s true colors.
“Do you wish to make the funeral arrangements or do you want me to?” the lawyer asked.
“I’ll need to transport my wife’s body to the city for the funeral and burial.”
Marisa leapt to her feet. “No! You can’t do that!”
“I live in New York City. My wife lived there with me. Our friends and my business associates are there. I want the service there so that the people who were part of Carolyn’s married life can show their respects.”
“But she lived her for twenty-three years. Most of the people in town knew her. We want to pay our respects.”
“Perhaps two services,” Harlan said.
“I told you how important it is for me to return home by the end of the week. I’ve lost my wife. I don’t want to lose my business too. I’ve got to go through the house and papers so it can be sold. I really don’t have time for a service here.”
Marisa’s patience evaporated. “You don’t have to attend. I’ll receive the mourners. But we deserve a viewing here. The people of this town are entitled to a chance to say good-bye.” She refused to beg the bastard and she hated that he held all the power because he was Carolyn’s husband. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“Fine.”
Marisa had the feeling he’d gotten what he’d wanted. But so had she. Now she had to plan a wake.
She took a big breath and braced herself. “When can I pick up the mementos Carolyn left me?”
“I’ll have to find them first. I’ll call you when I do.”
She’d be lucky if he called before the end of the week. Just to make sure he did call, she pulled out a business card and wrote her home and cell phone numbers on the back.
“Here’s where you can reach me.” She handed the card to him.
Without glancing at it, Scott tucked it in his pocket.
“May I have your cell phone number so I can contact you?”
Scott looked mulish, but then he glanced at the lawyer and smoothed his expression. “Of course.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and did as she’d done.
But as he held the card out to her, he kept hold of it. “This is my business mobile. Please don’t call to chat.”
Marisa snatched the card from him. Like she wanted to chat with him.
“And don’t share that number with anyone.”
She disliked Scott intensely at that moment. Had he been like this to Caro? Marisa hoped not. She hoped it was Scott’s grief making him a bastard.
Harlan walked Scott to the door. “I’ll call you when I secure a realtor.”
Marisa’s chest tightened. She wondered how her mother was going to take this news.
No sooner had the door closed behind Harlan, leaving Marisa, Scott, and his secretary in the waiting room, when Scott turned to Marisa.
“It’s your fault my wife killed herself.”
Marisa stumbled backwards at the unexpected attack.
“Because of you, my wife didn’t make friends in New York City. You had to keep calling her and keeping her tied to this godforsaken town. No wonder she felt so isolated after the miscarriage.
“This past year had been hell on her, but she had no one to help her through it. Your calls were all joy and sunshine because your fiancé was home and all you were interested in was the wedding. What about Carolyn’s pain? Her parents were dead. She couldn’t even tell you about the baby because you wouldn’t shut up long enough to listen to her. Some friend you were. You drove her to kill herself.” He looked down his nose at her, his expression one of pure hatred.
Marisa couldn’t breathe. She clutched her chest. “No.” The word slipped out on a whisper of sound. No one had ever said such cruel things to her.
“You don’t deserve anything from my wife.” Scott sneered at her. “Now you know how I really feel about you. I blame you.”
He and his secretary marched to the door. Marisa couldn’t move. With his hand on the knob, he halted and turned his head. His cold eyes speared her.
“Your mother will have to find a new place to live. The new owners won’t want her living rent-free in the guesthouse.”
“Sell the house?” Marisa’s mother exclaimed, her face paling. She sank into the desk chair bewildered with her fingers covering her lips.
“Scott has no emotional ties to it, Mamá, not like Caro did.”
Anjelita turned stunned brown eyes to her daughter. Marisa sat beside her and took her mother’s rough, cool hands between her own, chafing them to warm them. She’d had to sit in the sun for an hour after Scott’s venomous words to thaw the ice around her own heart.
“Then the Easterlings are truly gone.” Her mother’s voice quavered. “I never thought I would live to see strangers in that house.” She opened her mouth as though to say more. Instead, she stared silently at Marisa.
“I know that house represents a huge slice of your life,” Marisa tried to console her mother, “but it will still be there. I’m more worried about where you’ll live.”
“I can live anywhere,
mi hija
. But you have history there too.”
Marisa swallowed through a tight throat. “I carry the memories in my heart, Mamá. I don’t need the house in order to remember.”
“He is a bad man to do this.” Her mother’s anger was all the more poignant for the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
Marisa thought so too. “We can’t know how he’s grieving about Carolyn’s death.” Wasn’t that the truth? To say the awful things he’d said …
“A greedy man.” Her mother sniffed and wiped away a tear with her palm.
Marisa sighed. She couldn’t fight the truth. Wrapping her arms around her mother, she laid her cheek on the springy curls and inhaled the familiar lemon fragrance. Her mother was the only constant in her life right now. Marisa hugged her tight.
The bell over the door jangled. When Marisa looked up to greet a customer while Anjelita composed herself, she found Nick Stark standing there. Her breath caught. Her lower belly gave an odd clench. His dark intensity looked so out of place among her mother’s brightly colored designs.
“I’ll be with you in a moment.” Anjelita dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“He’s not a customer, Mamá. I believe he’s here to see me.”
Nick looked just as serious as the other times Marisa had seen him. Did he never smile? That piercing dark gaze absorbed the scene, but his impassive stare gave nothing back.
“Mamá, this is Deputy Nash’s friend Nick Stark. This is my mother, Anjelita Avalos.”
Nick strode forward, a hawk among the tropical birds.
Her mother looked from Marisa to Nick with a questioning frown on her face. She shook Nick’s proffered hand.
“Mrs. Avalos.”
“It is Miss, or the young people would use Ms. I have never been married.”
Nick’s gaze pinned Marisa for a moment. Her breath backed up in her throat. He was so masculine this close she couldn’t help but be aware of him. And she couldn’t understand why she should be when just yesterday she was engaged to Kevin. Where was her loyalty to her fiancé? Where was her integrity?
“This shop wasn’t here the last time I was in town,” Nick said.
“We began leasing it last year,” Marisa explained.
He looked around. “It’s an interesting combination.”
Marisa shrugged. “Neither Mamá nor I needed the whole space. Besides, it’s a convenient partnership. We each help the other when we’re not busy. Was there something you wanted?”
Again Nick pinned her with a look. Strangely, she felt stripped naked. “I thought you might need some breathing room from the townspeople. I wanted to walk the Gorge Trail and maybe take some photos. Would you like to come with me?”
Strange flutters invaded her belly. Be alone with this intense stranger? But after the visit to the lawyer, she really needed to walk off the stress and breathe untainted air.
Marisa glanced at her mother. Anjelita was frowning and Marisa wondered why.
“Mamá, do you need me to stay with you for a while?”
Anjelita shook her head. “No,
mi hija
. I think you need the glen. I know how much you love it.”
“We’ll have a special dinner tonight.” Marisa kissed her mother’s cheek and tasted salt.