as if she might spill the pot. Grateful for her presence, her only ally in the room, Laura squeezed her hand.
The doorbell rang. She was only expecting one other person, Jerry’s business partner, Paul Russell. Although she didn’t know him well, she hoped he’d be another friendly face in the room.
Opening the door, she was struck again by the tall, engaging man’s appearance. Thick dark hair, on the long side. Equally dark eyes and a strong jaw.
“It’s good to see you,” she greeted him.
Something she couldn’t decipher flickered in his somber expression, then disappeared. “You, too.”
Because of the occasion, she wasn’t put off by his reticence. “Come in to Jerry’s study—everyone’s gathered there. Can I get you some coffee?”
He followed, his footfalls crisp against the marble floor. “No, thank you.”
Jerry’s lawyer, Daryl McGrath, a man Laura had met only once before, sat at her late husband’s desk. A stream of sunshine lit the room, edging past the heavy linen drapes she had pushed open that morning.
After she and Paul took the last chairs, McGrath began to read aloud from the long, ponderous document. Jerry couldn’t have made his will short and simple. He had to have his final moment. It wasn’t a kind thought. But Jerry had stolen most of her kind thoughts over the years. It was hard to believe she had once loved him more than life. Handsome, charming, he had overwhelmed her with attention and affection. And she had been so desperate to be loved, to escape her scarred home life. But she hadn’t really known him. And the abuse he had dished out later, once they were married, had all but killed her.
Fingering the very proper pearls at her neck, Laura wanted to shrink into the straight-backed chair, out of sight of Jerry’s family. Instead, she crossed her legs, straightening her slim-skirted black dress over her sheer, dark hose. She hoped that her clothes, along with her dark hair, might help her blend into the dark wood.
She listened to the small bequests to Jerry’s favorite male cousins, a gold watch, an expensive money clip. When McGrath read the next bequest, Laura frowned. Jerry had given several pieces of furniture, including the baby grand piano, to his parents.
If it hadn’t been for the children’s piano lessons, she wouldn’t have cared. Material things had never been high on her list of priorities. She would have been happy in a tiny house with the barest necessities if Jerry had been the kind, considerate man she had once believed him to be.
Holding her hands in her lap, Laura fingered her wedding band.
“Now we come to the major bequests,” McGrath announced. “The primary residence, business interests, the cash and insurance.” He rustled several papers. “Jerry thought out his final wishes very carefully. He wanted to provide for his family in all aspects.”
Premonition washed over her, and Laura straightened in her chair.
“To that end,” McGrath continued, “he appointed Paul Russell as his executor and trustee.”
Sitting perfectly still, she could barely breathe.
“Jerry left his entire estate, in trust, to be divided equally, between his children, Kirsten Elaine Manning and Gregory Gerard Manning…. I’m afraid there’s no provision for you, Mrs. Manning.”
No provision. Despite her shock, Laura knew what that meant. It was fancy legal talk for what her shaking insides were trying to absorb. Jerry still had a choke hold on her and he wasn’t going to let go.
Chapter One
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Manning, but I’m afraid there’s little you can do, other than bring an action against the trust.” Tom Baldwin, the lawyer Laura had contacted, looked at her kindly, his sympathetic tone releasing the tears that lurked close to the surface.
“Sue my own children?” Laura reached for a tissue. “That’s not an option.”
“Perhaps the executor will be open to your plans.”
Laura grasped her purse, needing to cling to something, anything. The world had turned on end since the reading of the will and she wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Most of their acquaintances assumed Jerry’s death would have affected her this way. But they didn’t know him like she did. To them he was the engaging charmer, the great, outgoing guy who’d been a football star in high school and college. And she’d been the shy loner he’d chosen to marry. Few had understood the match, but plenty of girls had envied her. Because Jerry was “the man.”
Jerry’s only stroke of bad luck was colon cancer, undetected until it was too late. But he had enough time to dictate the terms of his will. Six weeks from diagnosis to death.
She had wondered if the diagnosis would change him, but not even a death sentence could reverse whatever propelled his meanness. For her, his death couldn’t negate fourteen years of emotional abuse, of being worn down, of always being afraid that his temper would blow. And he’d seen to it that she had to ask Paul, a virtual stranger, permission for nearly everything.
“Mrs. Manning?” Baldwin’s quiet voice prodded her.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes. “I have no idea how the executor will feel.”
Baldwin frowned. “Really? Wasn’t he your husband’s partner?”
“Yes. But I only met him a few times.”
“How extraordinary.”
“Not if you had known Jerry. He didn’t include me in anything related to the business. All I really know about Paul is that he was Jerry’s college friend and that he lives in a small town in the hill country.”
And two days earlier, as soon as the will had been read, Paul had left, telling her to talk to Jerry’s lawyer about her concerns. He’d mentioned something about a sick sister and apologized to the Mannings for his abrupt departure.
“You and Jerry didn’t go to college together?”
“No, I’m four years younger. I met him when I was a high school senior.” She’d been too young and gullible, anxious to get away from her equally abusive parents. Trapped in the cycle of demoralizing emotional abuse. Why her? “Anyway, Jerry and Paul go way back.”
“But you had no idea that Jerry had given him such extensive control?”
“No.” She stared at the framed law degrees on the wall, not reading them. “He told me he’d had a new will drawn up because of the complexities of the business.”
Baldwin peered at the thick sheaf of papers. “He’s left Russell in charge of everything from determining the amount of your allowance to where your children can attend school.”
She leaned forward, her knees pressing the desk. “Can I fight that?”
“Yes. But I warn you, it will be expensive.”
And where would she get the money?
“Surely half the house is mine because of community property?”
Baldwin
