I smiled over at my grinning son. “And if that was the case, you’re pretty sure this car is destined to be yours one way or another, huh?”
“Well, you’re such a nice dad, and I know you want me to be happy.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “I do, buddy. And that’s why I wouldn’t give you a Corvette, even if I had one.”
We parked near the address Anders had given me. His office, it seemed, was next door to The Shack. I hoped we wouldn’t have a run-in with my ex. The last thing I needed was for Dan to tell her I’d been left a Corvette, though whatever was in this trust, I had no doubt Shelly would know about it sooner or later.
I held the glass door open for my son, and together we climbed the stairs just inside the small entryway. When we reached the landing, I was surprised to find Addison Tanner standing just outside the suite we were looking for, looking a tiny bit lost. She wore slim jeans with a longer shirt, and something about the casual but put together look appealed to me, making me hope I looked okay. I realized it was dumb—it didn’t matter what this woman thought of me. That didn’t stop my hand from going to my hair though, hoping it wasn’t sticking up in thirty directions.
“Hi,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Maybe asking that question wasn’t the right move. Her open expression shuttered, and her brows lowered over those dark sad eyes. Her mouth opened, but before she spoke, her eyes slid sideways to take in Daniel, and apparently she thought better of whatever she’d been about to say.
“I got a call from this guy, Anders about poor Mrs. Easter. I have a meeting with him at five.”
“Us too,” Dan volunteered.
Addison’s brows rose now, and she looked between us.
“Did you knock?” I asked.
She crossed her arms. “No, is that how these door contraptions work?”
Dan grinned, but I was not going to respond to that question. I could play the sarcasm game too, but since he was here, it was my job to model good behavior. I knocked on the door. Hard. The sound of my knuckles rapping echoed around the small space at the top of the stairs.
“Thank God you were here to take care of that. Whatever would I have done?” Addison said.
I bit my tongue, but I also had to hide a smile. I liked her fire. More than I should have.
Daniel was snickering, and I poked a finger in his shoulder to shut him up. I was about to knock again when the door behind us flew open to reveal a short round man with little round glasses perched at the end of his nose.
“Well hello there,” he said, looking between us. “I’m afraid Dr. Kelly goes home by five each day. No one home, as it were.” He chuckled and took a step back. “Just popped out to make sure you weren’t knocking on my door. I’m expecting folks.” He moved to close the door, and I was relieved when Addison piped up.
“You’re not Augustus Anders, by any chance?”
“Why yes, last I checked, I was indeed.” He smiled and dropped his eyes, rocking a bit on his feet as if he was bashful about delivering this news.
“We’re your appointment,” I told him. “You said you were in Suite 2A.”
“Oh, no. I’m in 2B.” He pointed to the clearly marked suite number on the door. He didn’t appear to be older than fifty or so, but I was starting to wonder if he might be losing a few marbles.
“I’m Addison Tanner, and this is Michael Tucker, and his . . . son?” Addie looked at me, uncertain.
“Daniel,” I confirmed. “It’s my week, so he had to come along.”
“Sorry to be such a burden,” Dan muttered.
“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it,” I told him. I could have phrased that better, but Dan knew how much I enjoyed having him.
Addie was smiling at him warmly, and even Daniel’s surly pre-teen heart seemed to feel the effects. “Nice to meet you, Dan,” she said. As my son smiled at Addison Tanner, a little twinge of admiration swelled in me for her. I liked people who spoke directly to my son instead of talking around him, like so many adults did to children.
“Well, well. Come in then,” said the lawyer. “Not sure why you didn’t just knock on my door.” He shook his head as if in disbelief at our stupidity. This was Mrs. Easter’s trusted attorney? I was becoming a little skeptical—he’d probably called the wrong people altogether. Of course Mrs. Easter did not leave anything in trust for me. She barely knew me. This guy had made a mistake—it appeared he might make them regularly.
We followed him into a small lobby and then through a door to an office with a window overlooking the square below. It was a nice view, and for a second I wondered what it would be like, to have an office job, to have chosen for myself. But as Anders settled himself behind the desk, his roly-poly physique propping him in his cushioned chair, I realized that a little hard work was probably good for me.
“Sit please,” he said, motioning to the chairs. Addison, Dan and I sat down. Addison seemed nervous, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“As you know then, we are here to discuss the trust set up for the two of you by Mrs. Filene Easter,” he began.
A noise of surprise escaped Addison before she turned to give me a wide-eyed look, confusion clear on her face, “What?”
“Yes, yes,” the lawyer said, waving away this interruption.
“Wait,” Addison said, leaning forward and dropping a hand on the edge of his desk. “This is about Mrs. Easter? A trust?”
He looked at her as if she were a curiosity, something he hadn’t encountered before, blinking his big eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. “Why yes, didn’t I mention that on the phone?”
“Yes,” I said, at the same exact moment that Addison said, “No, you definitely did not.”
Then she slumped back in her chair, one hand resting over her mouth as if she could contain whatever sorrow might fly out. “Oh, poor Mrs. Easter. But a trust? Why would she leave anything to us?”
“Filene was ninety-three years old,” the lawyer said. “Natural causes, Ms. Tanner. Nothing to worry about.”
Addison nodded, still looking sad. I had felt a little down on hearing the news too, but the guy had a point. Ninety-three wasn’t exactly a shocking age at which to die. Only, she had seemed pretty spry last week.
“May I continue?” The lawyer looked between us. Suddenly Anders looked like a guy who had thirty clients waiting in the lobby and no time for this type of interruption.
“Sure,” Dan said, clearly eager to hear about the Corvettes coming our way.
“Mrs. Easter visited me just last Monday to set up this trust,” Anders said. “Very strange, really. She’d had no direct descendants, so had previously had plans to disburse her belongings to various charitable organizations—the Institute for Tasteful Taxidermy, the Chocolate Lab Rescue of Southern Maryland, and the like.
“However, last week she popped by and made a significant change to her final wishes, and that’s what I’d like to discuss with you now.” He looked up at us as if waiting for permission.
“Ah, okay?” I tried.
“Yeah, I guess,” Addison said.
Dan was practically bouncing in his chair. “Settle,” I whispered, and he stilled.