placed one next to Ellen that I noticed the faint smell of sweet pea, freesia, and hyacinth, and I realized she was wearing Acqua Di Gio perfume by Armani. The designer fragrance was at odds with her brown-and-green shapeless dress and Jesus sandals. The perfume was soft and feminine, when everything else about her screamed “I don’t give a shit what I look like!” She had about four inches of white-gray roots before curly red hair fell well below her shoulders. The woman is just weird. She doesn’t bother to wax her brows, yet she wears a seventy-dollar-an-ounce fragrance. I’d never known her to wear perfume, but then again, this was the first time I’d seen her so early in the morning. Apparently, she didn’t subscribe to the theory that perfume, like lipstick, requires reapplication during the day.
When she finished, she asked, “Why didn’t you ask Liam to try to find the elusive second cousins-slash-tenants?”
“Technically, they would be third cousins, and when I handled the estate, Liam wasn’t on retainer with Dane-Lieberman. Then there was the problem of Lenora not knowing any names or if they were relatives or tenants or even the location and boundaries of the land out in Indiantown.”
“Did you drive out to Indiantown?”
“Yes,” I practically hissed. “I went through the local property records at the library—if you can call it that—and couldn’t find anything. I checked the Martin County Property Clerk’s Office, and all I found was that the land was owned by Lenora’s aunt and uncle and there was no record of the property being transferred after 1931. It’s all right there in the abstract.”
Ellen smiled. “Taking pride in your work, are you?”
If I was, it was purely by accident. “No. I just feel confident that I did everything possible at the time. It was three years ago.”
“And yet you remember everything. That would serve you well if you decided to go to law school.”
“Is your coffee warm enough?” I asked, not willing to beat this dead horse again. Like my mother, Ellen couldn’t seem to grasp that I didn’t want to further my education. I was happy with my normally nine-to-five job, and I had no intention of spending three more years in college.
“My coffee is fine. Show me exactly where the property is”—she paused to check her zillion-year-old utilitarian Timex—“then go down to the lobby and let Lenora in, since Margaret won’t be here for another few—”
The sound of the intercom cut her off. “Yes?” Ellen asked as she pressed the flashing green button on the phone.
“Is Finley there?” It was Margaret. “Her client has arrived.”
“Thank you, Margaret. You can send Ms. Egghardt up to my conference room.”
“Where would you like me?” I asked.
“In law school.” She offered a small smile with the suggestion. “Here,” she said, pointing to the chair to her left. “But could you go to the elevators? Leslie-Anne doesn’t get here until nine.”
Leslie-Anne. So that was the name of the executive assistant who still called me Miss Tanner after eight and a half years. Then again, I still called her Mrs. Greenfelder, so I couldn’t see me giving her a shout-out as Leslie-Anne any time soon.
By the time I reached the elevators, Lenora was stepping out, decked head to toe in Louis Vuitton. Her brown hair was pixie short, but it fit her small, delicate features. She was about three inches shorter than I am even without my killer heels on. When she looked up, the broad smile on her glossed lips was mirrored in her hazel eyes.
Lenora was not to the manor born but rather the great-granddaughter of a Gilded Age tycoon. The Egghardt name had some cachet, but the millions were long gone. Still, she’d married well and divorced even better.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Good. I’m glad you’re still working on this mess. I thought I was done sorting through my uncle’s things, and then out of the blue, I get this.” She thrust
When she finished, she asked, “Why didn’t you ask Liam to try to find the elusive second cousins-slash-tenants?”
“Technically, they would be third cousins, and when I handled the estate, Liam wasn’t on retainer with Dane-Lieberman. Then there was the problem of Lenora not knowing any names or if they were relatives or tenants or even the location and boundaries of the land out in Indiantown.”
“Did you drive out to Indiantown?”
“Yes,” I practically hissed. “I went through the local property records at the library—if you can call it that—and couldn’t find anything. I checked the Martin County Property Clerk’s Office, and all I found was that the land was owned by Lenora’s aunt and uncle and there was no record of the property being transferred after 1931. It’s all right there in the abstract.”
Ellen smiled. “Taking pride in your work, are you?”
If I was, it was purely by accident. “No. I just feel confident that I did everything possible at the time. It was three years ago.”
“And yet you remember everything. That would serve you well if you decided to go to law school.”
“Is your coffee warm enough?” I asked, not willing to beat this dead horse again. Like my mother, Ellen couldn’t seem to grasp that I didn’t want to further my education. I was happy with my normally nine-to-five job, and I had no intention of spending three more years in college.
“My coffee is fine. Show me exactly where the property is”—she paused to check her zillion-year-old utilitarian Timex—“then go down to the lobby and let Lenora in, since Margaret won’t be here for another few—”
The sound of the intercom cut her off. “Yes?” Ellen asked as she pressed the flashing green button on the phone.
“Is Finley there?” It was Margaret. “Her client has arrived.”
“Thank you, Margaret. You can send Ms. Egghardt up to my conference room.”
“Where would you like me?” I asked.
“In law school.” She offered a small smile with the suggestion. “Here,” she said, pointing to the chair to her left. “But could you go to the elevators? Leslie-Anne doesn’t get here until nine.”
Leslie-Anne. So that was the name of the executive assistant who still called me Miss Tanner after eight and a half years. Then again, I still called her Mrs. Greenfelder, so I couldn’t see me giving her a shout-out as Leslie-Anne any time soon.
By the time I reached the elevators, Lenora was stepping out, decked head to toe in Louis Vuitton. Her brown hair was pixie short, but it fit her small, delicate features. She was about three inches shorter than I am even without my killer heels on. When she looked up, the broad smile on her glossed lips was mirrored in her hazel eyes.
Lenora was not to the manor born but rather the great-granddaughter of a Gilded Age tycoon. The Egghardt name had some cachet, but the millions were long gone. Still, she’d married well and divorced even better.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Good. I’m glad you’re still working on this mess. I thought I was done sorting through my uncle’s things, and then out of the blue, I get this.” She thrust
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