The Chesapeake Diaries Series (141 page)

“Of course she did.” Brooke snorted. “As if anyone would be nuts enough to turn you down. Anyone without your clout wouldn’t have been given the time of day.”

“This is one of those times when I was glad to have a little clout. So what do you say? Can you come along?”

“I would love to,” Brooke admitted. “I haven’t been to New York in so long, and I’ve never in my life been anywhere near the studio of a famous fashion designer like Teresa Kearney. But I have a paper due by eleven tomorrow morning and it isn’t finished. It’s the last one before the final, so it has to be good.”

“I understand. And I realize it’s last-minute notice, but I was just this morning able to get through to Teresa to confirm that she could see us.” Dallas sighed. “All of a sudden there’s so much to do. I can’t wait to go over all the details with you. Lucy had some amazing ideas, but between you and me, if she can pull this off, she’s a genius. Just thinking about what it’s going to take to coordinate what Stef wants with what I want gives me a headache.”

“So don’t think about it. Let Lucy worry. That’s what you hired her to do, right?”

“Right. You’re right.” Dallas sounded relieved. “I wish you were coming with us tomorrow.”

Brooke wished she were, too, she assured her friend, but they agreed to get together on Sunday night so that Dallas and Steffie could share their newly made wedding plans. A glance at the clock reminded Brooke that she had two stops to make on her way to class. She opened the refrigerator and put the box of cupcakes she was taking to Jesse’s office on the top shelf and closed the door, then paused. She took a piece of paper from the stack near the house phone and a pen from the desk.

DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THIS BOX
, she printed in large letters.
THIS MEANS YOU, CLAY MADISON
.

She taped the note to the top of the box, gathered her bag, slung it over her right shoulder, and picked up the boxes for Stef and Carlo. Her phone conversation with Dallas had left her with just enough time to make her deliveries, but no time to stop and chat.

It was almost dark when Brooke arrived at Jesse’s office. She’d gotten home from class earlier than she’d expected, and took a few minutes to freshen her makeup and change into something a little nicer than what she’d worn to school. Added a little jewelry. Brushed out her hair and let it fall over her shoulders instead of pulling it back into her usual ponytail. As she descended the steps, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the foot of the stairs, and stopped to take a look.

I look like a woman who’s going on a date
, she reflected.

It wasn’t so much in what she wore—though she clearly hadn’t been thinking about “going to see her lawyer” as much as she was thinking about seeing Jesse—but it was there in her eyes, in her expression. She was going to see a man she was interested in, someone she hoped was interested in her as well. How it was all going to play out, well, that was anyone’s guess. But for the first time in a very long time, she was going to give herself the freedom to go with the flow and see where it led.

She’d spent so much time on her appearance that she was already late, so she ran out the back door, then back in to get the cupcakes from the refrigerator. By the time she made it to Jesse’s office, it was five o’clock. She opened the front door and went straight into the reception area, only to find it empty. Hearing voices from Jesse’s office, she tiptoed across the hall and was about to knock on the door when Violet appeared and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hello, Brooke.” Violet squeezed her shoulder gently. “What a lovely Halloween queen you made on Saturday. I was hoping to get a chance to tell you. Your grandmother would have been proud.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Finneran. That’s so nice of you to say.”

“Now, I know Jesse is waiting for you, so let’s just tap on his door …” Violet did exactly that.

Jesse was standing in front of his desk, leaning back, talking to Liz about a property-damage case that they’d taken on. When he saw Brooke his face lit up, and Brooke was certain she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Liz turned around to see what had put that light in his eyes.

“Brooke, you’re right on time,” he told her.

“Actually, I’m a bit late, but nice of you to cover for me,” she said.

“Have you met Liz English?” he asked.

“We have met,” Liz said. “I met you the first time at the regatta over the summer.”

Brooke snapped her fingers. “I thought you looked familiar. Of course. You were sailing with Cameron O’Connor.”

“My cousin. Sort of.” Liz stood. “Nice to see you again.”

“Liz, just send me a memo with your thoughts sometime tomorrow,” Jesse told her.

“Will do.” Liz was caught between Brooke and Violet in the narrow space, and appeared to be waiting for Violet to move so that she could leave.

“I’ve set up the conference room for you,” Violet told Jesse. “I think you’ll be more comfortable there. And I’ve ordered dinner to be delivered at six. I hope you like what I ordered for you.” She looked from Brooke to Jesse. “You were on that conference call and you know that dinner orders have to be placed before five if you want delivery, so I had to play it by ear. Now, I’ll stay a few more minutes if you like, in case you need anything.”

“I think we’re good, Violet. Thank you. I don’t think you need to hang around.”

“Well then, I hope you have a good meeting.” Violet turned to leave. “Oh, I put Brooke’s files on the conference room table for you. I made copies of everything I thought you both might want to write on or make notes on.”

“Thanks, Violet. I appreciate it,” Jesse said.

After Violet left the room, Liz mouthed,
Who was that woman and what happened to the real Violet?
as she, too, headed across the hall.

“Here, let me have that coat of yours.” Jesse held the back of Brooke’s coat as she slid out of it. He hung it on the coatrack in the corner.

“Thanks. It’s nice and warm in here,” Brooke noted. “Not so much outside.”

“I know. I got blasted by the wind out there on the soccer field. Should have had the sense to wear a heavier jacket.” He took her by the elbow. “The conference room is this way.”

“You were playing soccer this afternoon?” she asked.

“Clay asked if I’d pitch in and co-coach his team. The other coach left without giving much warning, so it sort of left—”

“You were coaching Logan’s team today?” Brooke frowned. And Clay hadn’t bothered to mention it?

“It was fun.” Jesse opened the door to the conference room and turned on the light. “Don’t know how much of the fundamentals most of the kids are actually retaining, but it was fun. Eight is a funny age.”

“Don’t I know it.” Then again, she reasoned, why would Clay have had any reason to think she’d be interested?

Jesse held the door for her and she stepped into the room. It was paneled halfway up the wall in cozy chestnut, with dark green wallpaper above the wainscot. There were portraits on the wall and a brick fireplace in the corner. The table could easily seat twelve and was surrounded by captain’s chairs with green leather seats.

“Nice room,” Brooke observed.

“I’ve only used it once or twice, and only with a large group.” He held her chair for her. After she sat, he took his seat at the head of the table.

“Why’s that?”

“Why have I only used it a few times?” He seemed to ask himself the same question. “I guess because I’ve only needed a larger space those few times. And, I guess, too, because it seems like it’s my grandfather’s room. I feel like an interloper when I’m sitting in his chair.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way.”

When Jesse shrugged but made no comment, she said, “You and Mrs. Finneran seem to be getting along.”

“I suspect my charm may have finally won her over,” he said drily as he opened a file. “That and the fact that I asked her to help me plan my grandfather’s birthday party. Remember I asked you about cupcakes?”

Brooke nodded. “Did you decide on a date yet?”

“I’ll have to look at a calendar, but probably the Saturday after next.”

“Are you kidding? That’s barely two weeks away.”

He stared at her. “Right.” After a moment he asked, “Is there something wrong with that date? Do you have a conflict?”

“No, but it usually takes awhile to plan a party.”

“What’s to plan? I thought we’d have it at Lola’s since that’s his favorite restaurant. They have that private room on the second floor.”

“Invitations?”

“Violet is working on the guest list. She knows who his friends are. She’ll know who to invite.”

“You know that the shorter the amount of time between the invitations going out and the event, the more likely you’ll have a lot of decliners, right?”

He still looked a little blank. He was, she realized, such a guy.

“I guess I should ask Violet about that list tomorrow.” He frowned. It had obviously not occurred to him that people might have other plans.

“That would be wise.” She suppressed a smile and added, “Let me know about those cupcakes as soon as you can.”

“I’ll do all that tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t thought this through in those terms. I haven’t thrown any parties.”

“Ever?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been to a lot, but I’ve never given one.”

“I’ll help you. And Violet will help. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” He smiled and the worried expression left his face. She found she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. “So. Let’s take a look at what we have here.” He handed her a photocopy of her old will. “I guess the first thing we need to do is take Eric’s name out.” With a pen, he drew a line through Eric’s name wherever it appeared on the first three pages.

She waited for the stab of pain in her heart, for the ache that would remind her of the finality of this action. But for the first time, she didn’t feel as if Eric were watching from somewhere, accusing her of betraying him, of forgetting him too soon. She felt only
that she was taking care of some necessary business, and that Eric would approve.

“Investments?” Jesse was asking.

“Still with the same broker as noted there.”

“Real estate?”

“No.”

“How ’bout the business that Eric started with his brother? Did they own a building or some land?” Jesse made notes as they went along.

“I don’t know.”

“So, I guess you haven’t heard anything since our letter went out?” he asked. “I thought maybe he’d call you after her received it.”

Brooke shook her head. “It really isn’t like Jace to ignore a letter like the one you sent him. Did I tell you how much I appreciate that you made it so friendly?”

“There was no need not to be. We were just making an inquiry. Now, about a guardian in the event that something happens to you. Not that it’s likely, but with Logan being so young, you really should have a plan.”

“Of course. And it would be Clay,” she told him.

“And if Clay were not available?”

The question caught her off guard. That something should happen to her and Clay both, after what had happened to Eric, was unthinkable. Yet she knew that in the real world, the unthinkable happened every day.

“I guess Dallas, but I’ve never discussed it with her. I should probably ask her first.”

“How ’bout Eric’s brother?”

She considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “I want Logan to grow up in St. Dennis. If I
were gone—and Clay gone—well, my son’s roots are here. I really hadn’t thought about it all those years I lived away, but now that I’m back, I feel a very strong connection to the town and to the people I know and love here. I want him to have that, too.”

Jesse nodded. “I understand. I wasn’t born here, didn’t grow up here, but I can understand what you mean. I think I’d like my kids to grow up here, too.”

“You’re planning on staying, then?” she asked a little too quickly, she thought, a little too eagerly. She felt her face flush red and tried to remember the last time she’d actually blushed. “What I mean is, there was some speculation that you were just filling in for Mike while Andrea was sick.”

“In the long run, I suppose my granddad is going to have to decide what to do with the firm. But if it were up to me, yes, I’d stay and make a home here. I’m ready to settle down, I think, and this seems to be the right place for that.”

Violet appeared in the doorway. “I had a few more things to finish, but I’ll be taking off now unless you need me.”

Jesse shook his head. “No, we’re fine, Violet, thank you. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Mrs. Finneran,” Brooke said.

“Good night, dear.” Violet disappeared for a moment, then reappeared. “Jesse, do you want me to lock the door?”

“No, I don’t think you need to bother since the delivery guy is coming.”

“He should be here in about forty-five minutes,” she reminded him, her voice trailing off down the hall.

“Thanks again for putting the order in,” Jesse called. “Now”—he turned back to Brooke—“where were we?”

“I think we were talking about a guardian for Logan.”

He nodded. “Right. And that’s taken care of, so now I think we need to talk about other provisions for Logan.” He glanced at his notes. “You mentioned that you thought Clay had intended on reserving some of the farm for your son. If Clay is still planning on that, just make sure he has it written in his own will. If it isn’t written down somewhere, have him call me and we can take care of that easily enough.”

“I didn’t ask him if he had a will, but if he does, it would be in this office. Either your grandfather or Mike would have done that. Mrs. Finneran would know.”

They spent the next thirty minutes going over other changes and suggestions that Jesse made. At five after six the doorbell rang.

“Must be dinner.” Jesse excused himself and went to the conference room door.

Brooke reached over to the folder with her name on it and picked up the will on which Jesse had been making notes in his small, neat, and precise handwriting. There was nothing there they hadn’t talked about, and she slid the pages into the file and closed it, topping it with her copy. She was pretty sure they’d covered everything that needed discussing. As far as she was concerned, the business portion of the meeting was over. The rest of the evening—well, through dinner, at the very least—should be more casual, more social, but she felt slightly nervous and wasn’t
sure why. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. It was only dinner, right?