the desk, mahogany. The sofa was covered in a nubby wheat-colored material that blended perfectly with the ankle-deep carpeting and ceiling-to-floor draperies. There was even a real fireplace with a real wood fire. The file cabinets were custom-made and built into the rich paneling. An entertainment center and portable bar graced a far wall. The lawyer’s desk was cluttered, and the man sitting behind it was in his shirtsleeves. He got up and walked around the desk to greet them. He introduced himself, then motioned for them to be seated.
Dennis and Olivia waited for him to speak. He spoke slowly, almost irritably. “If I had known you were coming in this early, I would have carved out a period of time. I’m sorry I had to keep you waiting. We’re going to have to zip through this because I have another appointment in a few minutes.”
Olivia was on her feet in an instant. “You didn’t have an appointment with me yesterday. You just showed up. If it’s all right for you to do that, why isn’t it all right for us to do the same thing? Time is money, is that it? Well, I’ll tell you what, Mr. O’Brien, when you can carve out some time for me, give me a call. If I can fit you into my busy schedule, perhaps we can resolve this. I’m not into billable hours like you are. Personally, Mr. O’Brien, I don’t care if I ever see you again. I want nothing to do with Adrian Ames’s will. Come on, Dad, we’re outta here.”
When the attorney realized they were indeed leaving, he said, “Ms. Lowell, Mr. Lowell, please.” Father and daughter ignored him and kept walking.
“At least take this with you,” the lawyer said, scrambling across the wide expanse of office space with a letter in his hand. He held it out. “Your mother wrote this letter to you, and she instructed me to hand it to you personally.” Olivia made a very unladylike sound and gesture as she continued out of the office. She literally ran through the elegant lobby toward the front door. She didn’t see her father reach for the letter and tuck it into his pocket.
The seventy-six-mile ride back to Winchester was made in silence.
Chapter 5
The dogs barked a joyous greeting when Olivia and Dennis returned to the house a little past noon. Olivia made a production of hanging up her coat and dropping to her knees to play with the two happy dogs. She watched her father out of the corner of her eye to see if he would take anything out of his pocket. He did. She started to tremble with nervousness when she saw him fold a white envelope and stick it in his back pocket.
Let him deal with whatever was in the envelope. She wanted no part of it.
Dennis smacked his hands together. “What shall we do now, Ollie? Do you need any help in the studio, or should we start calling around to see what we can come up with in regard to Cecil? Maybe we should make some coffee first to get the chill out of our bones. I swear, being in the islands has thinned my blood. I can’t tolerate this cold. I think my tan faded overnight, too.”
Olivia forced a laugh she didn’t feel. She was surprised at how normal her voice sounded when she said, “Let’s do the coffee first. You can use the phone in the kitchen, and I can use my cell phone. And, yes, I’d like your opinion on the photographs I’ve chosen for this year’s canine calendar. I had the idea to do a special section between June and July. A group shot, a collage of some of the action shots I took of all twelve dogs. You know me, I think each one is perfect. I need an independent eye to keep me on track. I’m thinking of it as a kind of bonus for the calendar lover.”
She realized she was babbling. “I’ll make the coffee,” she repeated, heading for the kitchen. “You can turn the heat up in the studio if you don’t mind. I’m thinking of getting a space heater for out there. What do you think, Dad?” Damn, I’m still babbling.
“Sure, honey, whatever you want. Are we ever going to talk about what’s in my pocket?”
The response to her father’s question blasted from her mouth like a bullet. “No!”
Dennis shrugged as he moved toward the studio. “Maybe the ducts need cleaning in the studio. Let me take a look at them before you invest in a space heater. Those things are dangerous. Don’t forget all the chemicals you store out there for the darkroom.”
Olivia spooned coffee into the paper filter. “It was just a thought, Dad. If you want to check the ducts, be my guest.”
While she waited for the coffee to drip into the pot, Olivia pulled out her address book and dialed Alice’s vet. Within minutes she had the names and phone numbers for the Yorkie Rescue and two Yorkshire breeders in the immediate area. Twenty minutes later she ran out to the studio to tell her father she had two hot leads for Cecil’s replacement. “Do you want to go, or should I? It seems this particular rescue is operated by three women and one man. They keep and care for the dogs at their own homes. I wrote everything down.”
Dennis was on a ladder peering into one of the ducts. “I don’t think this duct has been cleaned since I installed it. Must be a hundred years old,” he quipped. “I think you should go. You know more about dogs than I do. I’ll hold the fort.”
Both dogs sat on their haunches, watching Olivia with bright eyes as she bundled up yet again. The moment they saw her reach for her purse, they scampered to the studio, where they would probably pester Dennis for attention. Purses and jangling keys meant they were being left behind.
Outside, the sun was shining, casting a silvery hue on the piled-up snow. The roads, Olivia noticed, were still wet, and slick with patches of ice that hadn’t melted. She drove carefully up and down the streets, her homemade map on the seat next to her.
She’d never been a serendipity kind of person. If anything, she was one of those people who had to make a chart, then think about it for days, weigh everything, then nine times out of ten squash whatever the idea was she had in the beginning in favor of something that was tried-and-true. She even did it with Clarence. One of these days she had to decide what she was going to do about Clarence. It was so hard to feign interest in his IRS audits. If he had told her once, he had told her a thousand times how good he felt exercising his authority over people. The truth was, she had her own fear that he’d audit her for her entire life, as well as her father and all of their friends, if she broke off their mundane relationship. Alice didn’t like Clarence. Smart dog.
Olivia slowed the car as she approached the intersection that would take her to Anita Wellesley’s sprawling ranch home, where she was caring for eleven Yorkshire terriers and two poodle-Yorkie mixes.
The moment Olivia parked in the driveway she could hear the clamor indoors. She smiled. Dogs always knew when someone was coming. They would consider her an intruder. She was surprised to find a ramp going up to the front door. Maybe Anita Wellesley was handicapped. She rang the bell. The door was opened by a plump, pleasant-looking woman wearing a red smock over faded jeans and an infectious smile.
“I’m Olivia. I called you a little while ago.”
“Yes, yes, come in. This is my mother, Anna Pellecone,” she said, motioning to a woman sitting in a wheelchair and holding three adorable little dogs. “She helps me with the dogs. My husband does, too, but he works during the day. Come, I’ll show you the others. I warn you, it’s going to be hard to pick one.”
Olivia oohed and aahed as she watched the herd of little dogs behind the gate that separated the great room from the rest of the house. She saw plenty of toys, dog beds, rawhide chews, and water bowls. She climbed over the gate and waited to see which dogs would seek her out. They all did.
“I’ll leave you for now. Take all the time you need. I’m going to fix my mother
