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  “I know. We were all thwarted horticulturists, I think. Anyway, Calvin told me that Ambrose Foucault had mentioned my plans to sell Berdeaux Place. As you can imagine, I was pretty upset to learn that a conversation with my grandmother’s attorney, one that I considered confidential, had been shared with my uncle.”

  Reid folded his arms on his desk. “Have you talked to Ambrose about it?”

  “Not yet, but I intend to. As you can also imagine, Calvin wasn’t too happy with the idea of my selling the house. He reminded me that Berdeaux Place has been in Grandmother’s family for generations. I understand his position. Even though he never lived there, the house is his legacy, too. I don’t want to be insensitive to his feelings, and at the same time—”

  “Your grandmother left the property to you. You have the final decision.”

  “Exactly. And I don’t take that responsibility lightly. Berdeaux Place was her pride and joy. Whatever I do, I want to make certain that the house and her memory are honored. But I have to be realistic about my prospects. Historic properties of that age and size come with a ton of legalities, so the pool of prospective buyers is limited. Grandmother left a contingency account and I still have money in the trust fund, but neither will last forever. I don’t want to rush a decision, but I also can’t afford to wait until I’m desperate and out of options.”

  “So put the place on the market as is,” Reid suggested. “Get the ball rolling. You may be pleasantly surprised by the amount of interest the listing generates.”

  She idly twirled a loose strand of hair around her fingertip. “I’ve considered that, but now may not be the best time. I’ve reason to believe vultures are circling.”

  That got Reid’s attention. He lifted a brow. “Are you worried about anyone in particular?”

  “Yes.” A shadow flitted through her eyes. She turned to stare out the front window as she gathered her thoughts. When she glanced back at Reid, the shadow had resettled into the hard gleam of determination. “Calvin told me that Grandfather might be interested in acquiring the house. He’s always had an appreciation for historic properties.”

  “Well, there you go,” Reid said. “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems? The house stays in the family, and the burden is lifted from your shoulders.”

  “You’re presuming his intentions are honorable, but I’ve never known Clement Mayfair to have an altruistic bone in his body. He’s up to something. I just know it. His own son made the offhand comment that he might be interested in buying the house for no other reason than to imagine my grandmother rolling over in her grave.”

  “I’m sure Calvin was joking,” Reid said.

  “A joke based on an ugly truth,” Arden insisted.

  Reid canted his head as he studied her. “What are you really worried about?”

  She took her time answering. “You’ll think I’m paranoid, but I have a bad feeling that Grandfather is planning to take Berdeaux Place away from me somehow. He may even try to convince Calvin to challenge Grandmother’s will. All I know for certain is that he has no sentimental interest in that house. He wants it out of pure spite.”

  “You really think he’d go to that much trouble and expense just to get back at a dead woman?”

  “You have no idea the animosity that festered between them,” Arden said. “They despised each other so much that they raised their children as strangers. Grandmother took my mother when she left and my uncle stayed behind with Grandfather. They barely ever saw each other even though they lived only blocks apart. I ask you, who does that kind of thing?”

  “Relationships can be complicated, but that does seem a bit extreme.” Reid thought about his mother spending so much time alone in the stately old mansion on Water Street. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t gone to see her in weeks, but they’d never been close. Her emotional distance had kept the two of them almost strangers. Why she stayed with Reid’s father after so many years of contempt and neglect, he could only guess; undoubtedly, money played a role. She was a woman who appreciated her creature comforts. Now that Dave Brody had brought her into his machinations, Reid resolved to keep a closer eye on her.

  He put that thought away for the time being and refocused on Arden. “You don’t know what happened between them?”

  Arden lifted a shoulder. “Grandmother would never talk about it, but I think it was something really bad. If Grandfather manages to get his hands on Berdeaux Place, I can only imagine the pleasure he would take in destroying it.”

  “You said yourself, there are rules and regulations that protect historic properties.”

  “He could burn it to the ground before anyone could stop him.”

  She’d worked herself into a state. Color tinged her cheeks and anger flared in her eyes, reminding Reid that Arden Mayfair had always been a woman of passion. In love, in anger, in hate. She gave it her all. Watching that fire burn out had pained him more than he wanted to remember.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked quietly.

  She glanced up gratefully. “If Ambrose can so easily be manipulated into revealing the details of our private conversation, then I can no longer trust him to have my best interests at heart. I’d like to hire you as my attorney.”

  That took him aback. “You want me to represent you?”

  “Why not? Unless you don’t want my business.”

  “It’s not that. I think you’d be better served with someone who has expertise in probate and real estate law.”

  She waved off his argument with another dismissive gesture. “How do I know another attorney couldn’t be bought off by my grandfather? You’re the only one I trust, Reid. I know you can’t be bribed or intimidated. Not by Clement Mayfair, not by anyone. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

  She was just full of surprises today. He was the only one she trusted? A man she’d barely clapped eyes on in over a decade? A man whose heart she’d once broken and scattered to the wind without a hint of remorse?

  Anger niggled and he gave it free rein for a moment even though he knew the emotion was irrational and unproductive. He sat in silence, observing her through his passive mask until he trusted himself to speak.

  “I have to say, that’s a pretty bold statement, Arden.”

  “It’s true. I do trust you. I always have.” She leaned in. “Will you do this for me? Will you take my case?”

  “We don’t know yet that there is a case. First things first, okay? I’ll need to see a copy of your grandmother’s will.”

  “I can get you one. Does this mean—”

  “It means I’ll take a look at the will. But the minute you start requesting documents from Ambrose, he’ll know something is up.”

  “I know. I plan to talk to him as soon as I can arrange a meeting. I doubt he’ll be upset. If anything, he’ll probably be relieved not to be caught in the middle of a Mayfair war.”

  “If you’re right about your grandfather’s intentions, the dispute could get ugly,” Reid warned. “He has the resources to drag this out for years. Are you sure you don’t want to sell him the house and be done with it?”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” She had that look on her face, the one that signaled to Reid she’d already dug in her heels. “Clement Mayfair needs to know that I’m not afraid of him.”

  Reid nodded. “Okay. I’ll make some discreet calls and see if I can get wind of his plans.”

  “Thank you, Reid.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s just wait and see what happens.” When she made no move to end the conversation, he shuffled a few papers on his desk. He would have liked to check the street, but she was already suspicious. The last thing he wanted was to put Dave Brody on her radar. “If that’s all, I have a meeting to get to soon...”

  She settled more deeply into her chair.

  He sighed. “Something else on your mind, Arden?”

  �
��I couldn’t help noticing all the clutter here and in the other room. Books and files stacked every which way. It’s the first thing you notice when you walk in the door and it hardly inspires confidence.”

  “That’s blunt, but you’re right. I haven’t had a chance to put everything away yet. As I said, I’m spread a little thin these days.”

  She swiveled her chair back around to face him. “I could do it for you.”

  He stared at her blankly. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “You need help and I need work.”

  He said in astonishment, “Are you asking me for a job?”

  Her own mask slipped, revealing a rare vulnerability, but she tugged it back into place and lifted her chin. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not exactly a slacker, you know. I’ve been gainfully employed since college.”

  “My surprise has nothing to do with your work ethic.”

  She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “What do you think I did at the museum all those years? I researched, appraised, processed and cataloged. Seems to me that is the kind of experience you need around here. I may not have a law degree, but I’m a fast learner and a hard worker. And you know you can trust me.”

  Did he know that? Fourteen years was a long time. People changed. Reid knew very little about her life in Atlanta or why she’d decided to come back to Charleston at this particular time. He had a feeling there was more to her story than settling her grandmother’s estate.

  But then, he was hardly in a position to cast stones. He hadn’t been altogether forthcoming with her, either.

  “Even if I thought this was a good idea, which I don’t,” he stressed “take a look around. Do you see a receptionist? A paralegal? Any associates? I haven’t staffed up because I can’t afford to. I used most of my cash to buy this house, and I promised myself I wouldn’t dig any deeper until I was certain I could make a go of it on my own.”

  She tucked back the loose strand of hair as she gave him her most earnest, Arden appeal. “But wouldn’t that be a lot easier with help? Just think about it, okay? I could file briefs, track down witnesses, do all the research and legwork that eats up so much your time. You don’t even have to pay me at first. Maybe we can work something out with your legal fees. Give me a month, and I know I can prove myself.”

  “A month is a long time,” he said.

  “Two weeks, then, but you have to give me a fighting chance.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  The edge in his voice stopped her cold. Now she was the one who looked stunned. Rejection wasn’t something Arden Mayfair would have ever gotten used to, he reckoned. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

  “We were a good team once,” she said. “Always a step ahead of everyone else, always in sync with each other. Together, we were formidable.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  The furrows deepened as she gave him a long scrutiny. “Be honest, Reid. Are you letting our past color your decision?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’ll be frank then. Are you still holding a grudge for the way I left town? What was all that business last night about airing our grievances? Were you just paying lip service to moving on?”

  “We can move on without being in each other’s face ten to twelve hours a day.” He regretted the sharpness of his words the moment they left his mouth. He regretted even more the hurt that flashed in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to her hands.

  “Point taken.”

  “Arden—”

  “No, that’s fine. It was a crazy idea. I mean, how could we ever work together after everything that happened between us, right?”

  “Arden—”

  “Don’t say anything else. Please. Just let me walk out of here with as much dignity as I can muster.” She rose. “I’ll send over a copy of Grandmother’s will as soon as I can make the arrangements. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  “No. I said I’d take a look and I will.”

  She turned toward the door.

  “Wait.” He winced inwardly, berating himself for succumbing to her emotional manipulation. He didn’t think she was maliciously playing him, but she’d always known how to push his buttons.

  She sat back down.

  “We’ll probably both live to regret this, but I may have something for you.” He paused, deciding how far he wanted to take this. He could give her an errand or two, something that would occupy her time while he figured things out with Brody. Or he could just send her home where she would be protected behind the high walls of Berdeaux Place. Still, she was alone there and Reid had no way of knowing if the security system had been sufficiently updated. She might be safer here, with a police presence on the street and neighbors who were on guard for anyone suspicious.

  “Reid?”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking. I have outside meetings for the rest of the day. I won’t be back here until late this afternoon, so you’ll have the place to yourself. Take a look around, get acquainted with the house and help me figure out how I can best utilize the space. Long term, we can talk about tearing down walls and a possible expansion. For now, we work with what we’ve got. Upstairs is off-limits. That’s my personal space and I don’t want to be surrounded by work.”

  She nodded. “I can do that.”

  “You say you’re good at research? See what you can do with this.” He scribbled a name on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to her.

  She scanned the note. “Who is Ginger Vreeland?”

  “Ten years ago my father represented a man named Dave Brody on a second-degree murder charge. The evidence against him was overwhelming, but Ginger Vreeland claimed she could corroborate Brody’s alibi. She disappeared the night before she was to take the witness stand on his behalf. Brody was found guilty and sent to the state penitentiary.”

  Arden glanced up. “You suspected foul play?”

  “No, more than likely someone bought her off.”

  “I don’t understand. If this was your father’s case, why are you getting involved?”

  “Let’s just say, Dave Brody has become my problem. He’s out of prison and looking for answers.”

  “And you’ve agreed to represent him?”

  “It’s a complicated matter,” Reid hedged as he opened a desk drawer and extracted a file folder. “There’s more where this came from, but the information inside is a good place to start. It includes notes from the attorney that interviewed and prepped Ginger Vreeland for her testimony. Read through the whole thing and see if you can pick up any threads. It won’t be easy,” he said. “Ten years is a long time and she’s likely changed her name at least once. She was a call girl back then so there’s no trail of W-2s to follow. I’m not expecting miracles, but at the very least, you can go through all the public databases in case something may have slipped through the cracks.”

  Arden looked intrigued. “I’ll need my laptop.”

  “You can use mine. I’ll log you on as a guest.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “One more thing. As soon as I leave here, make sure you lock the door behind me. Don’t let anyone in that you don’t know. In fact, don’t let anyone in but me.”

  She rose, too. “What about clients?”

  “No one,” he said firmly. “If anyone needs to get in touch with me, they can leave a voice mail.”

  She followed him into the foyer. “What’s going on, Reid?”

  He resisted the urge to put a hand on her arm. The less physical contact the better for his sanity. “We can’t lose sight of what’s happened, Arden. A woman’s body was found down the street from my house and a magnolia blossom was left at the crime scene. That connects us both to the murder. Until the police make an arrest, you need to be careful. We both do.”

  Something flashed in her eyes. A
touch of fear, Reid thought, but she looked no less dauntless or determined. Her chin came up in that way he remembered so well. “I’ll be careful. I’ll lock the door behind you and I won’t let anyone in until you get back. But you need to understand something, too.” Her hazel eyes shimmered in golden sunlight. “No matter what happens, I’m not running away this time.”

  He drew a long breath and nodded. “That’s what worries me the most.”

  Chapter Seven

  Reid noticed the Mercedes as soon as he came out of the courthouse. Given the location, he might have assumed his father had tracked him down. The historical building that housed Sutton & Associates was just down the street from the intersection known as the Four Corners of Law at Broad and Meeting. But the long, sleek car was no longer Boone Sutton’s style. He’d given up his limo and driver for a shiny red sports car on his sixtieth birthday. The way he tooled around town in his six-figure convertible was an embarrassing cliché, but that was his business. Reid had enough problems without worrying about his father’s perpetual pursuit of his youth.

  As he headed down the sidewalk, the driver got out and waited by the rear door.

  “Mr. Sutton?”

  “Yes.” He tried to peer around the driver into the car, but the windows were too darkly tinted.

  “Mr. Mayfair would like a word.”

  “Which Mr. Mayfair?”

  “Mr. Clement Mayfair.” The driver opened the back door. “Would you mind getting inside the car?”

  Reid had never spoken more than a dozen words to Arden’s grandfather. Truth be told, Clement Mayfair had intimidated Reid when he was younger, but he was a grown man now and his curiosity had been piqued. He nodded to the driver and climbed in.

  The interior of the car smelled of new leather and a scent Reid couldn’t pin down. Although the fragrance wasn’t unpleasant, the mystery of it bothered him, like a memory that niggled. He drew in a subtle breath as he placed his briefcase at his feet and sank down into the buttery seat.

  Clement Mayfair sat stone-faced and ramrod straight. Reid tried to recall the older man’s age. He must surely be in his seventies, but time had worn easily on his trim frame. He had the same regal bearing, the same aristocratic profile that Reid remembered so well. His hair was naturally sparse and he wore it slicked back from a wide forehead. His face was suntanned, and his eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses were the same piercing blue that had once stupefied Reid into long, sullen silences.