Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I appreciate that,” Chrissy says, seemingly oblivious that what Mom and Dad have to say might not paint either Jed or Chrissy in the best light. There’s a long moment of awkward silence where I think Mom is supposed to invite Chrissy to lunch or schedule that Pilates class together, but Mom stays quiet long enough that Chrissy gives up. “Well, I’d better let you get back to your dinner. I hear you’re doing quite well at city hall, Wren. Hope this doesn’t toss too big of a wrench in that.”
My focus whiplashes around, trying to figure out Mom and Chrissy’s relationship—of which I thought was mainly civil distance—and then centering back on the familiar topic of work. “Thanks. Ben’s taught me so much. Hopefully, I can fill his big shoes when he leaves.”
I’ll bitch about Ben to Mom because she knows I’m venting and truly respect him, but I would never say a rude word about him, or anyone else for that matter, to Aunt Chrissy. She’s of the “if you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit by me” gossip mentality, and I don’t have the time, patience, or manners to put up with that. Especially in a town the size of Cold Springs.
“You just do your best.” The motto is less encouragement and more condescension, but I force myself to flash a polite, politician’s-family smile.
Mom walks Chrissy back to the door, and though I shovel in a few bites of shrimp and rice while she’s gone, I’m mostly thinking about what Chrissy said.
“Holy wowww,” Mom drawls out as she sits back down. “That was unexpected.”
“Unexpected? The look on your face told me you expected it!”
Mom shakes her head. “Just rumblings at tennis over the weekend.”
“Rumblings? Mom, that was some crazy bullshit!” I explode. “Divorce, baby, property division? I mean, when did our family turn into a soap opera? What’s Jed thinking?”
Mom chuckles at my outburst. “I don’t know what Jed’s up to. Don’t really give two shits, if I’m honest.” I whistle at Mom’s uncommon use of a curse word, and she grins behind a hand. “He almost ran Bill into the ground. Did cut several years off his life, far as I’m concerned, and I wouldn’t piddle on him if he was on fire.” That’s a top-tier insult from Mom. Actually, come to think of it . . . I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say anything that violent. About anyone. “But if he’s up to no good again, especially in the way Chrissy says, she deserves at least half for helping him become the success he is.” Mom shakes her head sadly. “She’s been wearing rose-colored glasses where that man’s concerned for entirely too long. It’s about time she sees the truth. I hope she makes him pay for every asshole-ish thing he’s done.”
“Dayum, go, Mom,” I deadpan. “Right for the jugular without a single remorseless cell in your body.”
“Wren!” Mom scolds. “You’re awful.”
But I grin. “It was a compliment.”
It really was.
Chapter 3
WREN
“Ben, I’ve got this. You haven’t read a divorce proceeding in forty years. I handled dozens of them during my internships.” I’m trying to reassure Ben, but he’s not having it. His head is shaking back and forth the whole time I’m speaking.
“It’s only been thirty, and this is nothing like whatever amicable splits they had you work on in school. This is the big time, and might affect Cold Springs for decades. Maybe longer.” He opens a file folder on his desk, flipping through the pages so quickly, there’s no way he can focus on one before he goes to the next.
“Which will be the tenure when I’m here as city attorney and you’re enjoying the view from your front porch,” I remind him gently. “You’ve earned that and shouldn’t have to worry about this. I won’t mess it up. You can trust me.”
Ben flops back in his tufted executive chair, the only nod to his stature at city hall. The old, well-oiled leather creaks mellowly from years of use as he steeples his hands beneath his chin and peers at me from behind his thick black-framed glasses. “Walk me through it.”
He’s handing me the rope to hang myself. It’s the way he’s taught me everything over the years, which is one of the reasons I chose to work with Ben instead of some fancy law firm where I’d be relegated to years of grunt work. Ben demands greatness from me, and I’m well versed in what he expects to hear.
“First, the contract for Township—it will be the driving force behind the city’s position for the property distribution. Want me to quote it to you?” I ask with a twinkle in my eye.
A bushy brow appears above Ben’s glasses as he silently and wryly tells me to get on with it. We wrote that contract together last year, and he knows that I could recite the whole thing verbatim, backward and forward, as well as explain every nuanced detail of it. Township might be one of Jed’s construction company’s babies, but that contract is one of mine, and it’s tighter than a one-size-fits-all Spanx bodysuit.