Page 226 of It Happened on the Lake

Standing just outside was Levi Hunt.

Chapter 56

Joel straightened his tie and studied his reflection in the mirror. The lighting wasn’t great in this hotel bathroom, and that was probably why he was looking older than his years, or older than he should have been.

His once-blond hair was graying slightly, and along with crow’s feet fanning from the corners of his eyes, he noticed the beginning of bags under his eyes, bags that he didn’t want to check out too closely.

Joel had a meeting scheduled with Lou Arista later this afternoon, and he was nervous. He was hoping the Portland attorney would understand that he had a good reason and case that he should receive a cut of his wife’s—no, make that hisex-wife’s inheritance. Joel and Harper had an unwritten agreement that when Harper inherited, Joel would receive a good share of it. Millions, he figured, though he wasn’t sure of the figure and hoped the attorney would at least supply him with an estimate of what the estate was worth.

He saw dollar signs. Lots of them.

Unfortunately, though, he didn’t have a prenuptial agreement.

A little fact he’d neglected to nail down.

But he’d married Harper, raised her child as his own, helped Harper through school, and aided her in finding employment. While it was true he really hadn’t supported her financially, he’d been her emotional support for years. Harper was a trust fund baby, and her checks had done more than supplement the family income. Those quarterly installments had kept them afloat and made it possible to live a very nice, if not overly indulgent lifestyle.

No Ferraris or Porsches, but Volvos and Toyotas and Fords that were dependable if not flashy.

But now that she’d inherited . . .

Joel figured he was entitled to, if not half the value of the estate, then at least a third. He’d even settle for a quarter, though he wouldn’t show his cards in his first meeting with Arista. But he would see how the lawyer reacted when he mentioned he might have to find his own attorney.

He checked the view of the city, late afternoon settling in, the day gloomy as he stared through the high-rises to the river and sprawling city beyond. So, if he didn’t blow it, today was the day he’d been waiting for, the moment his ship would come in.

If he played his cards right.

Which he hadn’t. Midlife had come along, bringing with it the requisite crisis in the form of Melanie Jallet, a student of his at the community college. She’d flirted, he’d responded, and though he cared for Harper, really cared for her, he’d strayed. His marriage to Harper had about played out anyway. Dawn had been nearly off to college herself. He considered her his child, and he’d been glad to do all the daddy things as she’d grown up, but now she was out of the nest.

Harper had divorced him.

Melanie was insisting on marriage and threatening to leave him for good. In fact they were currently broken up, and he wasn’t sure that they’d get back together.

Either way, he needed the money.

Damn it, he deserved the money. Earned it. He’d bailed Harper out when she’d been at her lowest. From the first time he’d heard about the Dixon fortune from Trick in that little house in Almsville, Joel had set his sights on getting a part of it.

Now was the time.

With a final adjustment to his tie, he was satisfied. He had a little time and thought he’d stop off for one drink at his favorite rooftop bar, then walk the five blocks to the offices of Arista, Bartlett, and Connors.

After slipping into his coat, he grabbed his briefcase and took the elevator down to the lobby. Outside the day was cool, rain threatening again, but he didn’t have to pop his umbrella.

Pedestrians crowded the rain-washed sidewalks, cars were parked nose-to-tail along the curbs, and the traffic was thick, tires humming, engines rumbling, conversation buzzing around him as he walked the few blocks. He was a little claustrophobic in the throng of bustling city-dwellers, and more than once he had the uncanny feeling that he was being followed.

He’d even looked over his shoulder a couple of times but had seen no one who was obviously tailing him. He was just uptight. That was all. His nerves about the meeting with Arista were getting the better of him.

He dashed into the lobby of the older building, pressed the call button for what had to be the slowest elevator west of the Mississippi, and waited impatiently, tapping the toe of one polished shoe.

Come on, come on.

He watched the elevator dial move at a snail’s pace as the car slowly descended. Once it opened and a woman in a long coat and beret walked out, he was in. Alone, he rode the old car slowly to the rooftop without stopping at any of the floors in between, thank God.

Good. Maybe he was getting lucky.

As he expected, the small bar was nearly empty at this time of year. It was enclosed with sliding doors that opened to a wide patio. The tables that graced the area were now stacked to one side, awaiting summer and happy hours when he expected the rooftop would be alive with the after-work crowd.

Now two women were just finishing their glasses of wine and gathering their purses. They settled their tab with the bartender, a young guy Joel didn’t recognize who seemed bored with his job.