Cinders (10 page)

Brennen settled next to her, drawing her close and kissing her temple. “Do you think you can start making time to date?”

Gina chuckled, easily imagining the wicked grin he was giving her. “Maybe.” She crossed her arms at her torso, her fingers brushing the raised scarred flesh on her side. He hadn’t asked, at least. He was patient. And she was grateful for that, but she wanted to give him something. “Do you want to know?”

“I want to know whatever you want to tell me.”

She burrowed in next to him, letting her eyes closed as his fingers trailed up and down her side, running along the raised flesh of old burn scars. “She threw a pot of boiling water on me.”

Silence. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

“That’s not all she’s done.”

“No. There was a broken arm when I was seven. Dad didn’t realize she did it and she acted so sorry.” Gina shook her head. “Generally she tried since to keep it restricted after that to things that didn’t leave bruises, but I really made her mad the day she burned me.”

He was silent and still, holding her tight, stilling running his hand up and down her bare back. She knew he wanted to say something, felt the words hovering in the air, but he remained careful and restrained.

“She hasn’t so much as slapped me lately—I think she’s afraid I’ll tell you.”

“Why did you never tell anyone?”

Shame burned hotly—she knew he didn’t mean to imply it was her fault for not running, but she couldn’t help but feel that way. “No one would’ve believed me as a kid. I’d tried to tell my dad but he thought I just didn’t like my new stepmother. After he died...I tried booking an appointment with a guidance counsellor at school and I showed up to find Maureen there with her. She’d called my stepmother, concerned about me. And then I couldn’t run when I was older. My grades were bad because I spent so much time running the bakery and keeping the house clean, and she wouldn’t have given me money for college anyway. She’s on all these councils and groups in town, everyone likes her. I have nowhere to go.”

“You have me now, Gina.”

She did, and she trusted, somehow, that he wouldn’t force anything on her—he’d understand how badly she wanted to do things for herself on her own instead of trading one cage for another. Gina hugged him tight. “She’s selling the bakery.” Her voice broke on the last word, tears pressing against her eyes.

“What?”

She tried to swallow back the rising emotion. “I saw the purchase agreement draft. I’ve been trying to find a copy of Dad’s will because I just...I can’t imagine him just giving her everything like that. He would’ve looked out for me. But I wasn’t there for the reading and I’ve just had to trust her word that I wasn’t in it. Now she’s acting weird, pushing all these orders on me that I can’t keep up, and we had that break-in, and she’s claiming the store isn’t ‘profitable’ and that’s why she has to sell it, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s why you came here in the middle of the night.”

Gina nodded, not wanting to go into detail about trying to break into the safe—Brennen knew enough. “I was so upset about that. She’s changed so much about the bakery but it was my mom’s...”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair, kissing her temple again and holding her tight.

She kept her eyes closed and held on, wishing the world outside would disappear and she could lie in bed with him forever.

“It’s been a decade but records like that are kept,” Brennen said thoughtfully.

“I checked as anonymously as I could a few years ago—she must’ve done something, as I can’t find any record of it.”

“You know...I think my dad was your dad’s lawyer.”

Gina shifted and leaned on her elbow so she could meet his eyes. “What?”

“I can’t say for sure, I was a kid, but I
think
he might’ve handled the will. He handled most the wills in town.”

“Would he remember the details or have a copy?”

“You put on a pot of coffee and I’ll see if someone’s in the office today to let us in.”

“I’ll do you one better and make breakfast.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Perfect.”

Chapter Ten

Since it was the Friday before Saturday’s party, both Gina and Brennen had a lot to do, but she didn’t want to put off the visit to his father’s office and he thankfully didn’t even suggest it. She dressed in her clothes from the day before, which had spent the night in the dryer, and headed out with Brennen by 10:30 that morning.

His father wasn’t in the office but the receptionist was, and she waved them back while keeping the phone to her ear and jotting down details for a later appointment.

“I don’t know for sure if he’d have copies still from a will executed a decade ago, but if he does, they’d be in here.” Brennen led her into the small file room next to his father’s office, where rows upon rows of filing cabinets sat. He scanned the dates on the drawers, leading her around the room until he found the ones he wanted. His keychain held a small key that worked the lock, and he swung the drawer open to search the files.

Gina peered over his shoulder as he looked, cycling through alphabetized names straight to the very back, and then shook his head.

Brennen sighed. “I don’t see Cassidy. It’s possible he filed it under the year the will was drawn up, however. Do you know when that would’ve been?”

Gina thought on it for a moment. “Maybe three years before that? Sometime after he married Maureen.”

He unlocked two other drawers and directed her to one while he took the other. Again, they came up with nothing.

After closing up again, Brennen wrapped his arm around her and walked her out of the store. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve left my father a message—hopefully he’ll get back to us.”

She nodded and tried to keep at bay her disappointment. Her usual insanely busy schedule would resume after the party, probably first thing Monday morning, but hopefully they’d find time to do more soon. Before Maureen had officially sold the bakery, at least.

Just a few steps outside of the office, Gina squinted in the sun at the figure that approached them. She and Brennen paused and she recognized Raina Lowe, a pair of big, Audrey Hepburn-esque glasses hiding her eyes.

“How’s your grandmother?” Gina asked right away.

“Still in the hospital but doing well.” Raina smiled and clasped Gina’s hands in both of hers. “Thank you so much—I could’ve been upstairs an extra half hour without knowing.”

“I’ve been busy this week with the Prescott anniversary party, but I’ll bring her up some cookies soon—her favorite sugar-free ones.”

“She’ll appreciate that, I’ll let her know. Thank you, again, for everything.” Raina smiled at Brennen and then continued on.

“You secretly help little old ladies when I’m not around?” Brennen asked in a low voice, grinning at her.

“I happened to be making a delivery when Mrs. Lowe had a stroke.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “She’s lucky.”

Gina figured lucky would not be having a stroke in the first place, but she was glad she’d been there to help.

“Speaking of, I know you’re arriving tomorrow afternoon to do the final baking. You
are
staying for the duration of the party, right?”

“Yeah,” she said mildly and avoided his eyes. She’d been
planning
to hide in the kitchen with the rest of the staff since she wasn’t about to prance around in blue jeans.

“I’m expecting you to dance with me.”

“Brennen—”

“You’ve worked hard, you deserve the break.”

He’d persist on this point, she knew. Gina sighed and nodded. Sure, she’d have to find something to wear, but maybe she could put something together. Her mother’s things were in the back of a closet in the attic, after all. Clothing was sealed in plastic. She could find
something
.

“A nurse will be taking care of my grandfather for the night and I’m staying at my parents’. Pack an overnight bag and stay with me?”

Her heart thumped hard. Sure, she’d showed up at his place last night and slept over, but a planned overnight...

“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll ensure a car takes you home if you want. But I’d be happy to have you.”

And she felt very certain, then, that staying overnight with Brennen would lead to her giving all of herself to him—she knew she wanted to, knew her body would take over as soon as they were near and alone, and that she wouldn’t want to stop.

And would that be so bad?

No, she decided—it wouldn’t be bad at all.

“Sure.” She had her arm around his waist and leaned into him; his arm over her shoulder hugged her tightly.

His cell phone rang suddenly just as they paused at his car, and she leaned against the vehicle while he answered.

“Dad.” Brennen met Gina’s eyes and she held her breath, waiting. “Yeah, I know it was a while ago but I wondered if you remembered William L. Cassidy’s last will before his death. Ten years ago. Mmmhmm, I know...”

Gina crossed her arms under her breasts and waited, silently praying this would lead somewhere helpful.

“I know it’s too late to contest it, that’s not what it’s about. His daughter never heard the details and can’t find any information. She wanted to clarify that nothing was left to her. Okay...yeah. Huh.” Silence followed while Brennen listened for a few minutes, his gaze briefly hitting hers before he stared at the empty air ahead of him again.  “No, she didn’t know that. Thanks, Dad.” Brennen hung up but said nothing, clearly hesitating.

She tensed from head to toe. “What?”

“Let’s get in the car.”

“Brennen—”

“Let’s get in the car and I’ll tell you.”

There was nothing else she could do, so she relented and climbed in the passenger seat, waiting with the door open while Brennen sat in the driver’s spot and turned the key in the engine. When the air conditioning blasted on and cooled the sunny heat of the interior, she closed her door and twisted in the seat to face him. “Well?”

“Someone else in the office handled the will because Dad was out of town but he remembers the overview. In the event your dad died while you were a minor, everything was technically left to your stepmother.”

Gina’s shoulders deflated, but her mind twigged on one word. “Technically?”

“He expected you to go to college first for a few years, and then the bakery would be yours when you turned twenty-one.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s three weeks from now.” And college? Maureen had never breathed a
word
of it. Probably because it would’ve cost her money—Gina’s
dad’s
money—and she’d never do that even to get rid of her for four years. “So it’s mine? I could get a lawyer, find an old copy of the will that would’ve been kept
somewhere
, some public record, or with Maureen’s files, and then I can take control of it? That could stop her from selling, right?”

“There’s more. Knowing that the economy changes, your father specified that if profits declined and couldn’t support the shop, Maureen could sell it before you took possession of it.”

Realization dawned on her and she buried her head in her hands, frustration spearing her. Of course.
Of course
. That was why she was pushing so many orders they couldn’t keep up with, buying supplies, renovating. Even...

Even the break-in
.

The loss of profits. Maureen could’ve orchestrated that, couldn’t she?

“I’m sorry, Gina,” Brennen said softly, his hand folding on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. “I don’t believe the store is losing money, though. It can’t be. I do all the work and she doesn’t pay me a wage. She’s upped the prices over the years. Even with the break-in, the cost of repairs and the money lost, I just don’t believe her about the lack of profits. And she doesn’t have an accountant, she does everything herself. What if she’s cooking the books?”

“Where would you find evidence?”

Gina shook her head and leaned back in the seat, staring ahead at the busy narrow street. “Somewhere in the house. I’ve been through everything while I clean, the only place I haven’t gotten into is the safe in her office. She’s changed the combination.”

Brennen drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his dark brows pulling into a frown as he gazed at the windshield. Silence followed, just the quiet blowing of the air conditioner filling the space and dulling the sound of cars and voices outside. “I
may
have an idea. Let’s head back to my parents’ so you can prepare for tomorrow and I’ll make a call.”

****

Brennen’s family home was large like his grandfather’s but older with extensive grounds beautifully manicured and landscaped. He escorted Gina to the kitchen—she’d been there before, knew the house’s interior, but he wanted to ensure she had everything she needed before he ducked out—and then closed himself in the billiard room and dialed a familiar number. When the office turned up nothing but a voicemail recording, he tried his friend’s cell phone.

Three rings in, Mike O’Hara picked up. “Prescott.”

Brennen hesitated. Mike worked private security now and he tended to keep it legal, but he was the only person Brennen could think of who might be able to help. “I need a favor for a friend.”

“What kind of favor?”

“The kind I suspect only you can deliver.”

Mike was silent at this and Brennen paced the length of the room, rounding the pool table and pausing to stare through the window at the eastern garden.

“What’s this favor?”

Brennen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding; if Mike wanted details, he would help if he could. “A friend is in a situation where her rightful inheritance is likely being kept from her. We have a very small window in which to act. She needs to get a hold of the accounting books for the business that should be hers.”

“I assume that if it was as simple as walking into an office and accessing a file, someone already would’ve done it.”

“She thinks they’re kept in a safe in the home.”

“Is this for the girl you wanted to stop in and see a few weeks ago?”