Playing by the Rules by Beverly Bird

Author:Beverly Bird
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2003-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I didn’t call Sam and he didn’t call me, and I landed in my office on Monday morning in an exceptionally foul mood that didn’t improve when Mill turned up just before lunch.

I was having the kind of telephone conversation with a client that always made me want to bang my head against a wall afterward. Kathy Sloane was worried about how certain small but sentimental objects might be divided in the battle for equitable distribution between her and her soon-to-be-ex-husband. I chose my words carefully, implying that sometimes small things get lost. Sometimes spouses haven’t seen them for years, anyway, so they don’t even notice when they go missing. A woman could easily misplace her grandmother’s not-very-valuable garnet ring, for instance, or the photo album of the baby’s first year of life. Those things could magically turn up again at a relative’s home once the dust settled. Judges are mostly concerned with pension plans and homesteads, after all. Of course, if the ex actually asked about the photo album, all bets would be off.

I thought she got it, but then the woman called me back at eleven-thirty to tell me that her rocking chair was stuck in the front door and her pending ex was due to stop by in a few hours to pick up the kids for their time with him. What was she supposed to do now?

I closed my eyes. “Small, Kathy,” I said. “I told you small things might get lost.” The soon-to-be-ex-husband was definitely going to notice a rocking chair stuck in the front door, I thought. I knew I could expect a call from his attorney, sooner rather than later.

When I hung up and opened my eyes again, Mill was standing in my office door.

“What are you doing here?” I asked too sharply. I was still reeling from all of the emotional repercussions of my weekend, and he was the last person I felt like dealing with.

He didn’t answer my question. He took a step inside, closed my door behind him and looked around. “You’ve settled in nicely since the last time I was here,” he observed.

I stared at him. I wondered again what he was up to. I thought about standing but I decided that I felt more secure sitting behind my desk. If there had been a bathroom within easy striking distance, this would have been one of those times I would have hidden there, and sex was the farthest thing from my mind. I was a little worried and I was feeling insecure.

“That makes sense,” I answered slowly, “because you haven’t been here since about a week after I joined the firm.”

He stopped in front of one of the prints on the far wall. “I like the Matisse,” he said.

“It’s fake.”

He turned back to me and gave me his practiced smile. “I know.”

He would—he had the real McCoy on his living room wall. “Why are you here?” I asked again.

He still didn’t answer me. “Is that Chloe?” he said instead.

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