Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-Three

Caroline

I yawn, shaking away the cobwebs and step out of the car in front of my building. It's like I've landed on another planet. The noise, wet pavement, traffic, shouting, drilling. Smells.

In Manhattan, I have to search out nature. I can't explain why but it makes me sad. I'm a city girl always have been.

I already miss the Vermont house, terribly. Probably because my mind associates it with peace and quiet, the two things I was in dire need of when I went out there. A truck screeches to a halt nearby, spewing soot into the already blackened slush.

I whimper softly and realize Paul is at my side. He sets Rezy down on the ground and hands me the sparkly new leash. He's mine. No chip means he's mine.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, stop worrying, fairy godfather."

He furrows his brow then grins. "I like it."

I kiss his cheek and head for the Dakota.

I'm back in the offices of Flannery and Baker, reviewing the paperwork Howard placed in front of me. He sits behind his desk, frowning. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Page. I was sure they would make a better counteroffer."

The terms are ridiculous, as if Bernard's kids want me to fight them in court.

"According to opposing counsel, the daughter rallied for a better deal for you but her brother would hear nothing of it."

I think of Rachel's apologetic demeanor at the hospital and try hard not to let resentment sour me.

Howard leans back in his swivel chair. "We can dispute this. Of course, the legal fees will make a dent in whatever you may walk away with but you'll still come out ahead, if you win."

"What are my odds?"

"Their grounds are shaky but the length of your marriage, your age discrepancy, Bernard's age . . . if you get the wrong judge, they may agree that he wasn't of sound mind when he left you most of his estate. So to answer your question, anyone's guess."

Which means Howard is covering his behind. But my gripe isn't with him. It burns that anyone would think Bernard was not cognitively intact. That his own children are arguing that in order to scam me out of my rightful inheritance, is hurtful and offensive. I think not only of the low brow way Bernard's kids managed this but how they've never accepted me even as I cared for their father.

Howard interrupts my downward spiral. "Your friend Evie pulled strings to get you a deferral but you need to make a decision. Now."

I've made up my mind days ago. I could fight this, should fight this.

I tell Howard what I want him to file. I stand, nod perfunctorily and walk to the door.

He comes up beside me, his hand on the doorknob, a single brow raised. "Are you sure about this?"

I assure him that I am. I walk out without a second thought. The decision is made.