The Vibrant Years(29)
Apparently she’d read the kindness in his eyes, in his voice, wrong.
“I guess someone like me wasn’t exactly who they needed,” she said, and his eyes smiled some more. Trouble, indeed. He’d just wanted to be entertained.
“It is. But even I didn’t quite estimate how much you enjoy being trouble.”
“Watch yourself,” Cullie said, getting between Bindu and him.
He offered Cullie the hand Bindu had rejected. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You must be the genius granddaughter.”
“Excuse me?” Bindu said. How could he possibly know anything about Cullie? She’d never seen him after he’d called her trouble and incited her to move here.
“I’m sorry. Richard liked to talk about you.” That was all the explanation he gave before leading them to the gilded and wainscoted meeting room and shutting the door behind them.
“Is no one else joining us?” Alisha asked, holding his gaze.
Her daughter-in-law in her tiger-mom avatar was a terrifying thing, her beautiful curls pulled back in a bun, one brow raised, those large jet-black eyes ruthless with judgment. Bindu had watched her slay the elementary school vice principal when he’d misunderstood her soft voice as weakness and tried to tell her that Cullie had behavioral issues when what she’d been doing was standing up to being bullied.
“I made sure it was just me.” He slid a pointed look at Bindu. “It wasn’t easy.”
“Why are you acting like you’re doing me a favor?” The gall of him! “I didn’t ask for the cov—the HOA to not be here. I’m not afraid of them. I’ve done nothing wrong. Unless you’re suggesting that I have?”
“My grandmother is the one who’s been through trauma here, and your vicious little group should be sending her flowers to sympathize. Not flooding her inbox with threats.” Cullie was the hardest person in the world to charm, and Bindu had never been more grateful for that fact.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, still pouring on the charm and gloriously wasting it on Bindu’s favorite person on earth.
“So we’re here for an apology, not an eviction attempt, like your band of bullies suggested in their emails?” This from Alisha.
“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” he said, gaze slipping between the three women. He was obviously used to speaking to a roomful of people and making them feel like he was entirely focused on each one individually. “Would you like some coffee or tea?” He pointed at the chairs around the meeting table, inviting them to sit down, but Bindu would give him even more of a height advantage than he already had when hell froze over.
Cullie picked up a bottle of water from the sideboard and pointed it at him. “What we’d like is for you to get to the damn point.” She pulled out the chair and plopped into it with some force.
“Well then, let’s get to it.” Leslie pointed to the chairs again, and when Alisha and Bindu didn’t sit, he sat down. If Cullie’s rudeness bothered him, he didn’t show it. “Richard was a heart patient.”
“I know.” The doctor who’d declared him dead had told Bindu that Richard had a pacemaker. “I mean I know now. I didn’t before.”
He met her gaze, every hint of amusement gone from his eyes. “His family wants to sue.”
“Excuse me? Sue whom?” Alisha asked.
Bindu sagged into the sideboard. What in God’s name was happening?
“Is it a crime to not know a friend’s health history?” Cullie said.
“Richard had a family?” Bindu said. He’d had five ex-wives, for heaven’s sake. Of course he did. He couldn’t possibly have been as alone as he’d seemed.
Alisha went to Bindu and took her hand. Cullie stood and did the same.
“Yes, and he also had a substantial amount of money.” Leslie’s gaze took in the three of them standing there, hands linked, registering something that made the green of his eyes deepen.
“I guess what they say about writers being starving artists isn’t true.” Bindu threw a look around the ornately appointed conference room with jazz music piping softly through artfully concealed speakers. “Then again, he lived here. Obviously he wasn’t a pauper.”
“I’d be careful what I say,” Leslie said. For words that harsh, his voice was kind.
“Are you a lawyer?” Trust Alisha to ask the right questions.
He nodded, perfectly pomaded silver hair barely moving. “I’m the person Richard entrusted with executing his will.”
“Why would we care about his will?” Bindu said, starting to lose patience with this drama. The headache that had been nudging at her ever since she’d stupidly let them give her something to knock her out yesterday pushed forward. She kicked herself for waiting until noon for chai.
The weighed-down, and weighing, look in his eyes only pushed the headache closer. He took a long, meaningful pause. “Richard left everything to you.”
“What?” all three of them said together.
Bindu yanked her hands out of Alisha’s and Cullie’s and pushed off the sideboard. “How?” She started pacing. “Why?”
No one answered. No one said a word. Alisha, even Cullie, stood there slack jawed. But Fancy-Pants Lawyer didn’t have the luxury of sitting there, studying her as though she were on a witness stand. To hell with that.