Stone (Pittsburgh Titans 2)

Not an ounce of shame for that.

“Do not contact me again,” I warn ominously. Her eyes slide my way, wary and passive. “Email me whatever I need to sign to release you from whatever obligation you feel you need to soothe your conscience for the work my brother hired you to do. I’ll get it back to you immediately. Contact me again, and I’ll report you to whatever agency governs people like you.”

Gone is the wariness, and her eyes blaze again with anger, but she watches me mutely. I stare at her resolutely, conveying the silent message I’m not to be fucked with. When I think she understands, I pivot sharply and head for the door.

Past the broken chair.

I glance down at it but not at her. “Send me a bill for that, and I’ll gladly pay it.”

I don’t look back as I storm out of her office and hopefully toward a life that is now free from my ghosts and demons.

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

My heart thumps hard after Stone Dumelin leaves my office, slamming the door behind him. And despite that very unpleasant experience, I honestly had not expected any different. Over the course of my friendship with Brooks, I had come to know Stone, and I’d been steeling myself for this confrontation.

It’s why Brooks hated to ask me to be the one to make sure this all gets settled. It’s why he hated to name me trustee, but he knew I’d fight tooth and nail to see that his wishes were carried out. More than just Stone being a thorn in my side regarding the estate, I was contacted by his father yesterday asking about “his share” of things.

I don’t know if Stone told his father to contact me, but I doubt it. I know they weren’t on the greatest terms when Brooks died. I could see that firsthand at the memorial service where Stone would try to comfort his mother, but she’d pull away. I saw it when his own father ignored him, and it was clear by his words at the service that he felt he only had one son worthy of mention.

This behavior was also not a surprise. In fact, Brooks had told me once that his family was so fractured, nothing would ever put it back together.

I believe him now.

There’s no sense in calling his father back yet. I have to advise Stone about Brooks’s will and trust, which is the first order of business. Once I do that, I will call his father and tell him what he’s entitled to, but I’ll put it off for now.

I move around my desk and squat to the broken chair. The leg is completely snapped off, and I want to grind my teeth with how blasé Stone was about breaking it.

Send me a bill, he’d said.

As if anything could replace the broken leg on this eighteenth-century Hepplewhite that is part of a matching set. It’s not only worth a small fortune, but more importantly, it was my great-grandmother’s, lovingly passed down to the eldest daughter in each generation. My mother gifted me with them two years ago when I opened my law firm, believing I’d enjoy them far more than she would.

Sending Stone a bill wasn’t going to undo the damage.

“Well, he was as pleasant as a cornered porcupine,” Bonita says from my doorway. I look up to see her wringing her hands. “I’m sorry… I tried to stop him.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I assure her as I rise, holding the chair leg. “He’s just like Brooks described him, and I would never want you to try to stop someone that much bigger than you.”

“If only I’d had time to get my Mace out of my bag,” Bonita muses.

“No,” I drawl in exaggerated censure. “We do not mace clients either.”

“Pity,” she quips, and I snort with laughter. Stepping forward, she holds her hand out. “Let me have it, and I’ll see if I can superglue it back on.”

Rather than give her the broken leg, I pull it into me protectively, my mouth gaping.

“Just kidding.” She laughs, pushing her hand closer. “I’ll go put it somewhere for safekeeping, and I’ll start contacting antique repair stores to see how we can get it fixed.”

“Thank you, Bonita.” I give her the wooden leg, my fingers grazing over the intricate carvings down to the rectangular spade foot. “I’m going to take Odin for a walk and grab a salad down at the deli. Want something?”

“No, thanks,” she replies. “I brought in a sandwich. Did you finish the Graves’ discovery?”

“I’ve got about another hour.” I really should sit down and finish it now, but after that encounter with Stone Dumelin, a walk would do me good as well. “I’ll dive into it when we get back.”

?

Four hours later, I can’t finish the damn Graves’ discovery. It’s due in three days, and I’ve got a little extra time, but I always like being ahead on my deadlines. I’m a planner, and I had planned for today to be the day I’d finish it. I can’t do it tomorrow as I’m in court most of the day, and the day after I’m taking a continuing legal education class. It has to be finished today so I’m not scrambling on the due date, and I’m not reduced to asking for an extension, which isn’t my style. I like getting my stuff done to show I’m prepared and ready for battle at all times.