the double doors opening onto the lake side of the house. She jerked one door open, and I assumed she intended to order the intruder off the property in no uncertain terms. Perhaps even bodily eject him. But she stopped so short that I almost whammed into her.
“What are you doing here?”
Leslie was not one to gasp, but this was definitely a gasp. She apparently recognized the guy from the back. When he turned and grinned I realized who he was. The ex-husband in the photo. With the same cocky grin.
“I figure there’s enough of my money in this Tara of the Ozarks where you’ve been hiding out that I’m entitled to a spot on the steps. Great view,” he added approvingly.
Always icy calm, Leslie now sputtered like an overheated teakettle. I had the impression she was so furious she didn’t know which of his statements to attack first.
“I haven’t been hiding out,” she snapped.
“No one’s known where you were. Although you’re lookin’ good, Les. Very good. Down … what? Sixty pounds, maybe even seventy?”
She ignored the weight numbers. “I’ve been living here exactly like any other resident.”
“But using your maiden name,” he pointed out. Which gave me no clue as to his name, of course.
About that time I realized I probably shouldn’t be standing here eavesdropping on this conversation. But no one said anything about my leaving, or even seemed aware I was present. So who was I to jump to the conclusion that I should remove myself?
“My maiden name is my name. I’ve had it longer than I had … yours. In any case, everyone here knows who I am.”
“Yeah. Right. The mysterious lady in the Scarlett O’Hara house.”
“And you, the guy who successfully hacked into the Pentagon, didn’t have any problem coming up with my address, of course.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it was no problem. You’ve done a fair job of cutting yourself off from the gang. And it took me a while to come up with the phone number.” He recited a number that, from the angry tightening of her mouth, had to be her unlisted number.
“How did you get it?”
He grinned. “Vee haf our ways,” he said with a waggle of eyebrows.
Leslie was not amused. “Did you try to call me?”
“I thought, just for old time’s sake, a face-to-face visit would be preferable. Although your hospitality technique could use a tune-up,” he added reproachfully.
“Did you send Michael to look for me?”
“Michael? What makes you think that?”
“Someone reported seeing a person of his description over on the other side of the lake. Michael never did know when to quit with the tan. One of these days his skin’s going to look like a steak left too long on the barbecue. He was watching this place with binoculars.”
“Actually, I haven’t had much contact with Michael or either of our other partners since the demise of a certain dot-com company. If Michael has been watching you, he’s done it on his own. We’re not working together. Maybe he’s a bit … ah … miffed about what you did.”
The sarcastic emphasis on miffed implied a considerably stronger emotion than that moderate word suggested.
Leslie crossed her arms across her chest. “Okay, so you’re here. So what?” she challenged.
The guy rose from his sitting position on the steps and lounged against one of the front pillars. He pushed the baseball cap back on his head, revealing a tumble of blond curls. “A lawsuit comes to mind.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal, and there’s no money of yours in this place. It’s all mine, money, house, everything. Fair and square.”
“Fair and square?” He quirked a blond eyebrow. “That’s a matter of opinion. California has community property laws, you know.”
“All that was settled in the divorce. You got your share of CyberPowerAds; I got mine. The sale of my share of the company was after the divorce. No community property involved.”
“Perhaps some high-powered lawyers and a judge will put a
“What are you doing here?”
Leslie was not one to gasp, but this was definitely a gasp. She apparently recognized the guy from the back. When he turned and grinned I realized who he was. The ex-husband in the photo. With the same cocky grin.
“I figure there’s enough of my money in this Tara of the Ozarks where you’ve been hiding out that I’m entitled to a spot on the steps. Great view,” he added approvingly.
Always icy calm, Leslie now sputtered like an overheated teakettle. I had the impression she was so furious she didn’t know which of his statements to attack first.
“I haven’t been hiding out,” she snapped.
“No one’s known where you were. Although you’re lookin’ good, Les. Very good. Down … what? Sixty pounds, maybe even seventy?”
She ignored the weight numbers. “I’ve been living here exactly like any other resident.”
“But using your maiden name,” he pointed out. Which gave me no clue as to his name, of course.
About that time I realized I probably shouldn’t be standing here eavesdropping on this conversation. But no one said anything about my leaving, or even seemed aware I was present. So who was I to jump to the conclusion that I should remove myself?
“My maiden name is my name. I’ve had it longer than I had … yours. In any case, everyone here knows who I am.”
“Yeah. Right. The mysterious lady in the Scarlett O’Hara house.”
“And you, the guy who successfully hacked into the Pentagon, didn’t have any problem coming up with my address, of course.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it was no problem. You’ve done a fair job of cutting yourself off from the gang. And it took me a while to come up with the phone number.” He recited a number that, from the angry tightening of her mouth, had to be her unlisted number.
“How did you get it?”
He grinned. “Vee haf our ways,” he said with a waggle of eyebrows.
Leslie was not amused. “Did you try to call me?”
“I thought, just for old time’s sake, a face-to-face visit would be preferable. Although your hospitality technique could use a tune-up,” he added reproachfully.
“Did you send Michael to look for me?”
“Michael? What makes you think that?”
“Someone reported seeing a person of his description over on the other side of the lake. Michael never did know when to quit with the tan. One of these days his skin’s going to look like a steak left too long on the barbecue. He was watching this place with binoculars.”
“Actually, I haven’t had much contact with Michael or either of our other partners since the demise of a certain dot-com company. If Michael has been watching you, he’s done it on his own. We’re not working together. Maybe he’s a bit … ah … miffed about what you did.”
The sarcastic emphasis on miffed implied a considerably stronger emotion than that moderate word suggested.
Leslie crossed her arms across her chest. “Okay, so you’re here. So what?” she challenged.
The guy rose from his sitting position on the steps and lounged against one of the front pillars. He pushed the baseball cap back on his head, revealing a tumble of blond curls. “A lawsuit comes to mind.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal, and there’s no money of yours in this place. It’s all mine, money, house, everything. Fair and square.”
“Fair and square?” He quirked a blond eyebrow. “That’s a matter of opinion. California has community property laws, you know.”
“All that was settled in the divorce. You got your share of CyberPowerAds; I got mine. The sale of my share of the company was after the divorce. No community property involved.”
“Perhaps some high-powered lawyers and a judge will put a
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