her even remotely brought Shawn O’Reilly to mind.
“Hello,” Shana said, extending her hand to him.
She had a voice like a low blues melody, sinfully seductive.
No surprise there. It took Travis a second to take her hand and shake it. Holding her hand, he experienced an almost overwhelming reluctance to release it again.
What the hell was going on with him, he silently upbraided himself. He was too young to be going through a second adolescence and too old to be going through his first one.
They were right, he concluded, those people who said that you weren’t at your best without a full night’s sleep. He was obviously not operating with all four engines burning.
Out of the corner of his eye, Travis saw Shana’s father glancing toward one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. Shawn O’Reilly looked like a man trying to decide whether the chair would accommodate his girth without mishap or groaning, or the sofa would be a wiser course to follow.
Travis nodded toward the sofa. “You might find the sofa a bit more comfortable, Mr. O’Reilly,” he suggested. “I know I do.”
His words brought out an even wider smile from Shana. His breath went missing for a full thirty seconds. It was like standing beside an early morning sunrise.
Travis glanced down at her left hand. No ring.
Sunshine permeated his inner core.
Pleased at the suggestion, Shawn turned around and sat down on the sofa. Soft tan leather sighed all around the man’s considerable form. Shana took a seat beside him, shifted slightly and crossed her legs, her white skirt hugging her thighs. Travis forced himself to look away. He wouldn’t be able to form a coherent thought for several minutes if he didn’t.
Grabbing one of the two chairs that stood facing his desk, he swung it around and sat down opposite his potential clients. A small, glass-topped coffee table took up the space between them.
“Can I get you anything?” Travis asked amiably, looking from the man to his daughter. “Coffee? Tea? Soda? Water?”
“We’re fine,” Shawn assured him.
“All right, then tell me,” Travis settled back in his chair. “How can I help you?”
Shawn moved forward a touch, creating an aura of privacy as he did so. “They tell me you’re the go-to guy around here when it comes to putting together a living trust.”
Each at the firm had an area of expertise, although areas did overlap. Several attorneys specialized in living trusts. Somewhere, he had a guardian angel who had brought these people to him. “I’ve written a number of them, yes.”
His answer seemed to irritate Shawn rather than please him. Shaggy gray eyebrows came together like teddy bear hamsters huddling for warmth. “I don’t want false modesty, boy. I want the best.”
All right, you want confidence, you’ll get confidence. “Then you came to the right place,” Travis told him.
A pleased smile folded itself into the ample cheeks. “Better,” Shawn nodded. “A man should always know what he’s capable of and what his shortcomings are.”
Shawn’s voice was big and booming, with a slight Texas flavor. The man was obviously not a native Californian.
Travis found himself wishing that his new client’s tone was a little softer. Each word the man uttered seemed to vibrate inside his head which had turned into a living echo chamber.
Leaning forward, his elbows digging into his wide lap, Shawn asked without preamble, “Do these things really do what they say they do?”
He had no idea what the man referred to. It was a completely ambiguous question and Travis felt his way around slowly, not wanting to give offense or make Shawn think he was stupid. “And what is it that ‘they’ say, Mr. O’Reilly?”
“That if my money and my property are secured within the specifications of a living trust, then my girls won’t have to go through probate or pay Estate taxes.” When Shawn frowned, his chins became more prominent. “Already paid taxes on all the money once. Doesn’t seem fair to have to pay taxes on it again just because my girls get to hang on to it instead of me when I die.”
He heard that sentiment expressed a lot. Travis smiled. The effort cost him. It seemed that every movement, partial or otherwise, had pain associated with it. The aspirin he’d swallowed was taking its sweet time.
“That’s why most people look into getting a living trust,” he told Shawn.
The man nodded, pleased. “Now, we’re not going to be talking fortunes, boy. I’m not a Rockefeller,” Shawn warned.
“Most people aren’t,” Travis acknowledged. “You mentioned your ‘girls.’ Spouses enjoy the greatest elimination or postponement of Estate Taxes. Other generations, less. But I’ll need to know more about your particular assets and beneficiaries, after applying the Estate Tax Credit.” His eyes shifted toward Shana. It didn’t appear as if they were waiting for someone else to join them. That meant that Shana was the one the man relied on, Travis surmised. Beautiful and reliable. A hell of a combination. “I take it you’re referring to your daughters.”
“Well, yeah,” Shawn laughed heartily. “I don’t own no night club with dancing girls in it. Just a restaurant.” The way he said it, Travis could tell that there was no “just” about it. “Been running it for longer than Shana’s been on this earth,” the man said proudly. “Want that to go into the living trust, too.” Shawn pinned him with a look. “You can do that, right?”
“With the right wording, Mr. O’Reilly, I can include just about anything in that trust,” Travis assured him. “Provided I have the proper documentation.” He couldn’t help wondering how open the man was to having a stranger go through his things. He sounded friendly enough, but privacy was an issue for some, despite the lawyer-client privilege so frequently cited.
Shawn cocked his head. Travis was reminded of an old painting he saw where Santa Claus was studying a list, deciding who was naughty or nice. “You mean like ownership papers?”
Travis nodded and instantly regretted it. “Those—” he said with a vain effort to will back the pain “—and the deed to your house as well as all your banking information. I’m going to need to review all of that if you want it to be covered in the trust.”
“Hell, yes I want it covered,” Shawn informed him with feeling. “Otherwise, there’s no reason to be going through this, is there?” He cleared his throat. “No offense, but lawyers aren’t exactly my favorite kind of people.”
“None taken,” Travis murmured. He heard that a lot, too. His headache was at the point where it could become blinding at any second. He needed more aspirin. “If you’ll excuse me for a second.”
Getting up, he saw Shawn and Shana exchange glances but couldn’t guess at what they might be thinking. He needed a clear head for that, or at least one that didn’t feel as if it were splintering into a million pieces.
Travis crossed back to his desk, took out the bottle of aspirin and shook out another two tablets. He downed them with
