Free The Blossom Sisters by Fern Michaels

swimming pool and tennis court. They went out every night to dinner. The judge suffered a stroke; he was eighty-two. He died a week later. His children swooped in and swooped her out. One of them just happened to be an FBI agent. They paid her off with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar check, and she signed a ream of paperwork promising never to darken their doorstep again. The judge had been in the process of changing his will but had the stroke before he could sign off. If he had, she would have been set for life. They were married for nine weeks.

    Gus rubbed at his eyes. It was all so unbelievable. And he hadn’t had a clue. He knew that if his grandmother had handed him this report back then, he would have refused to read it. He felt sick to his stomach. He shuffled the papers in front of him. There was no need to read the rest of them, since they picked up with his meeting Elaine at his health club, where he worked out after work.
    For weeks, he had watched her on the equipment. He liked the look of her toned body, her classy workout clothes. He liked that she was serious about her workouts and didn’t mess with any of the male members. He liked seeing her leave the gym with her arms full of books and her gym bag. He’d slipped one of the attendants fifty bucks to let him see her application. All he got out of it was that she was single, was going to law school, worked nights as a bartender in a trendy joint in New Town, and drove a bright yellow Beetle. His kind of girl. He’d made it his business to visit the trendy joint two or three times a week, have one beer, then go home. He’d thought at the time that he was being clever, but she told him later that she had his moves down pat. Then she’d laughed at him when he approached her at the health club, saying, “Don’t I know you?” The most tired pickup line of all time.
    A month later, in June of last year, they were married. But before that happy event, at her insistence, he’d given her a tour of his business, the building he owned—along with the bank—and his paid-off house. They had gone to the farm where his grandmother lived with the two aunts. She didn’t like Wilson from the get-go, but she’d given in on the dog when he’d told her he would never ever part with Wilson even if he did make her itch and sneeze. Wilson hated her and stayed out of her way.
    Elaine Sara Ramsey Larsen Mitchell Hintermyer Perry Hollister. He wondered how she fit all those names on her driver’s license.
    Yessireee, he was one damned lovesick puppy back in those days.
    Gus shoved the papers back into the manila folder. Now what am I supposed to do? It was still raining, but it wasn’t as dark as it had been. The thunder and lightning seemed to have abated, along with his headache. Maybe he should go into the office instead of just sitting around sucking his thumb. If he did that, he could get a jump-start on next week’s work. Yeah, yeah, he’d go to the office. The only question was, which one of Barney’s cars should he take? Maybe the vintage Jeep Commander.
    Leaving from Barney’s house meant that the usual ten-minute drive to his office now took forty minutes, then another ten to wade across the parking lot to the back entrance of his building. He let himself in, climbed the back steps to his office, and opened the door with his brand-new office key. After he locked the door behind him, he turned on the lights and headed to the mini-kitchen, where he started a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to drip, he checked his e-mails and the voice mail. Two voice mails from his tenant on the top floor asking him to call. He did, and was told a client had come by earlier and said he would be back around noon. No, he didn’t leave a name, and the tenant hadn’t asked, saying just that the man had said he was a new client. Gus shrugged. He really didn’t need any new clients; it was all he