Mischief in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #2)(55)
“Someone who might have known the Fortescues back when my father was a kid. Unless you think it’s a bad idea.”
“No…no, I think it’s a really good one as long as her memory is sound. I’ll pick you up around three-thirty, okay?”
It was just shy of four-thirty when Beau and Sabine pulled up in front of Martin Alford’s office. It was a beautiful antebellum home just off the main street in town. What was once most likely a carriage house had been converted into his place of business, a small, tasteful sign identifying his estate law practice. They walked up the beautifully landscaped path to the office entrance and Beau rang the buzzer at the side of the door. Sabine looked around nervously and plucked a New Orleans newspaper from the top of the bush beside the door. She twirled the loose end of the plastic wrapper around on her finger, every possible scenario imaginable running through her mind. The attorney opened the door a minute later and motioned them inside.
They took a seat in two overstuffed taupe leather chairs placed in front of an ornate redwood writing desk, and Sabine handed the attorney his newspaper. Alford thanked her and took a seat behind the desk, his expression almost one of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry to ask you here on such short notice, but we’ve had a situation arise.”
Sabine sat up straight in her chair. “What kind of situation?”
“Catherine asked the domestic staff to keep your identity confidential, at least until all the particulars could be worked out, but apparently Adelaide has been talking at the grocery store, and news is starting to spread.”
“Why would she deliberately disobey Catherine?”
Alford shrugged. “I don’t think she was trying to cause trouble. Adelaide’s mind simply isn’t what it used to be. Dementia, Alzheimer’s, or maybe just old age. Either way, her reliability isn’t, well, reliable.”
Sabine glanced over at Beau, wondering where this was going, but he looked as confused as she felt. “What does all this have to do with me, Mr. Alford?”
“I need to ask you to have a DNA test. I’m sorry to move straight to the legal aspects of this so soon after your reunion, but I’m left with little choice now.”
Sabine suddenly understood. “The family wants to make sure I’m the real deal before Adelaide spreads any more tales.”
Alford jumped up from his chair, an agitated expression on his face. “No, I’m sorry, that’s not it at all. I don’t mean to imply that the family doesn’t trust you because nothing could be further from the truth. The family is certain you’re Adam’s daughter and so am I. You look exactly like him, and the dates and facts surrounding your birth coincide with the things we know from our end.”
Sabine stared at him. “Mr. Alford, I have no issue with providing a sample for a DNA test. In fact, I fully expected to be asked to. I guess what I’m not understanding is why the urgency now if not for the family’s protection?”
“It’s not for the family’s protection. It’s for your own.” The attorney sank back into his chair. “Over the years scam artists who found out about Adam showed up pretending to be a long-lost granddaughter or grandson. They’ve always proved to be frauds, but not before they’ve stolen from the house or managed to get money out of Frances—she’s very gullible.”
“The family is worried that everyone will think I’m another scam artist.”
“Yes. They don’t want this to cause any trouble for you, and the reality is, without medical proof of your claim, you will probably endure a certain level of animosity from the townsfolk.”
“I see,” Sabine said, although she didn’t really buy his explanation for a moment. More likely the Fortescues didn’t want to cause any more embarrassment for the family, but Sabine saw no benefit to pointing out the obvious to the one man who probably knew that to begin with.
He gave her an apologetic look. “I am so sorry about this, Ms. LeVeche. We were hoping to explain this situation and take care of these things over time. No one wanted to make you prove yourself as soon as you walked in the door. The Fortescues are a lot of things, but ill-mannered is certainly not one of them.”
Sabine held in a smile. Only the most proper—and mentally imbalanced—of people would consider a DNA test rude when there were millions at stake. “Is there a facility I need to go to?”
Alford shook his head and pulled a bag from his desk drawer. “All I need is a hair sample and I can send this off. Again, I apologize for this, Ms. LeVeche. I also lost both my parents when I was very young. I know how important family is. The Fortescues wanted to give both sides time to get to know each other before making it public. No one wanted things to get out this way.”
“There is no need to apologize, Mr. Alford. No harm has been done but a little tongue-wagging. I assure you, tongues have wagged about me a time or two in the past. I’m a psychic, remember?”
Alford looked relieved. “Yes, of course. I’m just so used to dealing with the family, and they’re so…I guess particular is the best word.” He gave Sabine a small smile. “I sometimes forget that the rest of society is not as stringent. The family has arranged for a rush on the tests. They should be notified with the results by tomorrow morning and will contact me immediately following. If you’ll give me a way to reach you, I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve spoken with the family.”