Free Treasured Past by Linda Hill Page B

formality, and that he didn’t give a damn whether he was interrupting me or not.
    “Come in,” I told him, my smile tight and fixed. Here we go.
    He didn’t shut the door behind him, and I was secretly encouraged. At least he would think twice before raising his voice.
    “How are we doing?” Another attempt to be courteous. But I wasn’t going to be lulled.
    “Just fine,” I told him, careful to keep my voice light.
    He smiled and nodded before folding himself into one of the two overstuffed armchairs that faced my desk.
    “Thought I’d stop in and see how Donald’s case is coming along.” He paused briefly. “Should I be worried about the fact that you haven’t given me an update in several weeks?”
    “Not at all.” I put on my best professional demeanor. “There just isn’t much of an update to give you. The court date has been set for August thirteenth.” I paused. More just to make him wait than for any other reason. “I met with the other attorney and presented your son’s wishes about the house.” I purposely stopped at that point to make him ask for more information.
    “And?” I could see his impatience, even though he was struggling to hide it. “Did they agree to our terms?”
    You mean, did they agree to be blackmailed? I wanted to say the words aloud but held back. I still had several more cards to play.
    “The attorney said that she would discuss it with her client. We’re scheduled to meet again a week from Thursday.”
    Donald nodded, and I took the opportunity to soften my voice and play the role of the helpless, ignorant female.
    “Donald. I don’t think I ever asked you. What does your son do for a living?”
    The crease between his brows deepened. “He’s in real estate.”
    Real estate. How appropriate. “Is he quite successful, then?” I knew I was walking a fine line by starting this line of questioning.
    “I don’t really see where that’s any of your business,” he snapped, the ferocity of his tone surprising me.
    Bingo. I’d hit a sore spot. This could get interesting.
    I forced my voice to remain calm, even casual. “Well, Donald, I agree that on a personal level, your son’s financial affairs are none of my business. But as his attorney, I must admit that I’m feeling a bit at a loss. It’s as though there are some important pieces of information that are missing for me.” I dropped my voice to a hushed tone. “My concern is that some of this information might surface when we get inside that courtroom.”
    “And I’m assuming that you’ll never let this case get that far. I’m paying you to make sure that this is settled before it gets to a judge.” His voice was firm and brittle.
    I remained calm, spreading my palms on the desktop. “I understand your wishes, sir. But my concern is that your son’s wife seems to be reluctant to settle under his terms. If she refuses to settle, then I’m going to be ill prepared to explain to a judge why your son is so deserving of their home.”
    Donald was steaming, and I wasn’t sure if I should be pleased with myself, or if I should fear for my life. Nostrils flaring, he was clenching his jaw.
    “Your job is to make sure it never gets that far.” He was repeating himself. Could it be that he’d never considered that he would have to explain what a failure his son was to me, and for the public record?
    “I understand that, sir.” My voice was respectful but firm. “But let’s assume for a moment that this gets before a judge. How am I supposed to explain to him or her that your son deserves to own a house that he hasn’t lived in for four years?”
    I fully expected to see steam coming from his ears.
    “How did you find out about that?” he snarled.
    He’d finally managed to insult me. The sweetness left my voice.
    “Did you really expect that I wouldn’t do my homework?” I was incredulous. “Is that why you gave me this case? Because you have such a low opinion of my work and abilities that