Deception (Infidelity #3)(32)

“No.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. I’m here today. My time, too, is valuable. Am I or am I not an heir to Charles Montague II?”

Ralph’s shoulders moved back and then forward. “Adelaide, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you. Perhaps if you just ask me whatever it is that you want to know, I can answer your question. The wording of these documents is legalese and confusing.”

Asshole.

He might as well say what Alton’s been saying for twenty years. ‘You’re too stupid to understand.’

“Despite public opinion to the contrary,” I replied, “I do know how to read.”

He shifted in his chair. “Now, Laide, that isn’t what I meant.”

“Mrs. Fitzgerald. Adelaide Montague Fitzgerald, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

“Yes, of course,” Ralph said, his thinning gray hair doing little to hide the crimson now seeping from his skin. “It’s just that we’ve known one another for most of our lives. I helped when Russell died. I worked for your father…”

“Yes, Ralph, you’ve been a great asset to my family, our company, and to me. Tell me why you don’t want me to see my father’s will.”

“I-it isn’t me.”

My neck straightened. “Mr. Fitzgerald cannot restrict who sees and doesn’t see my father’s will.”

“He can…”

I narrowed my blue eyes. “Legally, Ralph? Because if I don’t see that will and all of the codicils today, I will seek new representation. I will see my father’s will today or by court order. So if Mr. Fitzgerald’s request doesn’t have legal backing, I suggest you reconsider your answer to my next question.” I paused. “When can you have my father’s last will and testament and any and all codicils sitting on a table in front of me?”

“I-I need to at least consult Mr. Fitz—”

“No, you do not.”

“You don’t understand the position you’re putting me in—that you’re putting our firm in. If he learned that you—”

My cheeks rose as my head tilted slightly to the left. I may be in my early fifties, but between personal trainers and plastic surgeons, I’d done what my father had told me to do and kept the wrapping on the package appealing. My words dripped with Southern charm. “Then you have you your answer, Ralph.”

His eyes opened wide. “My answer?”

“Mr. Fitzgerald doesn’t need to learn a thing. This…” I motioned between us. “…will be our little secret.” I winked. “Isn’t that what old friends do for one another? We keep secrets. You see, I don’t plan on announcing to anyone that we had this chat, not as long as I get to see what I came to see.” My lips pursed. “But then again, if this becomes a big ‘ole fight, if I have to involve another law firm…” I contemplated. “There’s a new firm, Preston, Madden, and Owen, I believe…”

“Why?” he asked.

Continuing, I oozed charisma. “Now, Ralph, that right there is a question friends don’t ask one another. You see, a woman’s age, her dress size, and why she does whatever in the hell she sets her mind to do are all off-limits for friends. And we are friends, aren’t we?”

Nearly an hour later, clutching my purse, I paced back and forth in the small conference room. There were two windows that looked out to a small parking lot. The September sun shone bright and warm. After all, this was Georgia. Autumn may be on the calendar in less than three weeks, but rarely did we see the cooler temperatures until much closer to the holidays.

It was hard to believe I was thinking holidays when only last night I’d been ready to leave this world behind. As my manicured nails pinched the leather exterior of my handbag, I contemplated what I was about to read. Part of me feared that I might not understand it. I’d been told for so long how stupid I really was.

I tried to recall reading the original document after Alton’s and my engagement was announced. That was the last time I’d seen my father’s will, and as I recalled, I’d only seen the section and subsection related to our marriage and that of Alexandria and Bryce’s. My father was an incredibly wealthy man with many holdings. His entire last will and testament was ridiculously wordy.

My purse vibrated with an incoming call. I glanced toward the door I’d wanted to open for at least the last forty-five minutes. Ralph had told me that I could leave and return, but I refused. I was here and didn’t plan to leave without accomplishing my goal.

Another vibration.

Opening my purse, I looked at the screen and sighed. ALTON.

I didn’t know how to do the thing that the kids did, how they gave each caller their own distinctive ring, but if I could, I’d have some ominous song alert me of my husband’s calls. I’d read a book that talked about a dark song called Fatal Lullaby. After reading the book, I listened to the song over and over. It was perfect for the book, and in hindsight, would be the perfect ring for Alton’s calls.

Another vibration.

Even just the idea of that song announcing him—such a secret and tiny rebellion—brought a smile to my face as I pulled the phone from my purse. Swiping the screen, I said, “Hello, Alton.”