voice, and suddenly remembered that she was no longer alone. She had friends now. They might not be able to protect her from someone like Gris forever, but they stood with her, and they had her back.
“That’s right, fuck head,” Grace said. “The lady said, no. Now get out of here before I blow your fucking brains out.”
Elle turned and saw that Grace was pointing a hefty shotgun right at Gris’s face. Gris put his hands up in self-defense. “Oh, you stupid old hag. You’re going to pay for this. The sherif’s on my side. This girl took my car, smashed my other car. She’s mine. She’s my fucking property.”
Grace just looked at him, waited for him to finish his rant, and then cocked the shotgun menacingly.
Reluctantly, Gris backed out of the diner.
When he was gone, Elle realized just how terrified she’d been. She sat down on a stool at the counter and burst into tears. Her entire body quivered in fear.
“Oh my, God,” Kelly said. “That’s your ex?”
“That’s my ex,” Elle said.
“He’s even worse than Phil,” Kelly said.
Grace came over, threw her hands around Elle, and hugged her as tightly as Elle had ever been hugged by anyone.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said. “Now I see why you’ve got such high walls around your heart. You listen to me. We’re going to keep you safe here, okay, sweetie. We’re going to keep you safe. We’re your family now.”
Chapter 19
Forrester
F ORRESTER SAT IN THE DUSTY lawyer’s office and tried not to think about any of the reasons he was there. Places like this made him nervous. His father’s death made him nervous. The will, well, he had no experience with wills, but he was pretty sure that if he thought about it too much, it would make him nervous too. His father had been a grade-A asshole. There was every chance that the old bastard had slipped some final insult into the will, and Forrester didn’t relish the prospect of finding out what it was.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Chapman, Forrester’s father’s attorney said. He took his seat behind his desk. His chair was large and soft, upholstered with polished leather. Forrester’s seat was a simpler thing, more like a dining room chair.
“You want some coffee, son?” Chapman said.
Forrester had noticed that everyone connected to the father’s death so far had referred to him as son, as if they were trying to make up for the shortcomings of the one man who should have called him that.
“No thanks,” Forrester said.
He didn’t mean to be short, he had nothing against Chapman, who for all intents and purposes seemed to be a perfectly fair-minded lawyer. He just didn’t want to draw out the reading of the old man’s will.
“All right then, I suppose we should get started.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Chapman pulled out a sheaf of documents that included old letters, legal papers, government forms, and of course, the will.
“I’ve read this will of course,” Chapman began. “In fact, I drafted it for your father and I can attest to the fact that he was of sound mind when he drew it up.”
“Good for him,” Forrester said.
“You should know that with your father’s property, his investments, and the sale of some annuities a few years back, he had a sizable estate. At last reckoning, it was valued at over half a million dollars. It would likely be a little higher now with the way property and stock prices have gone.”
“I don’t want it,” Forrester said.
Chapman paused. “Well,” he said, “the thing is, as the only living relative, your father left it all to you by default.”
“I just said I don’t want it.”
“I heard you,” Chapman said, “and naturally, I’d have to honor any wishes you had regarding the money, especially if you didn’t want it. There are rules in place for such eventualities. Plus, I’m sure there are a wealth of worthy causes we could think of together for making a donation.”
“I don’t care what you do with it,”
“That’s right, fuck head,” Grace said. “The lady said, no. Now get out of here before I blow your fucking brains out.”
Elle turned and saw that Grace was pointing a hefty shotgun right at Gris’s face. Gris put his hands up in self-defense. “Oh, you stupid old hag. You’re going to pay for this. The sherif’s on my side. This girl took my car, smashed my other car. She’s mine. She’s my fucking property.”
Grace just looked at him, waited for him to finish his rant, and then cocked the shotgun menacingly.
Reluctantly, Gris backed out of the diner.
When he was gone, Elle realized just how terrified she’d been. She sat down on a stool at the counter and burst into tears. Her entire body quivered in fear.
“Oh my, God,” Kelly said. “That’s your ex?”
“That’s my ex,” Elle said.
“He’s even worse than Phil,” Kelly said.
Grace came over, threw her hands around Elle, and hugged her as tightly as Elle had ever been hugged by anyone.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said. “Now I see why you’ve got such high walls around your heart. You listen to me. We’re going to keep you safe here, okay, sweetie. We’re going to keep you safe. We’re your family now.”
Chapter 19
Forrester
F ORRESTER SAT IN THE DUSTY lawyer’s office and tried not to think about any of the reasons he was there. Places like this made him nervous. His father’s death made him nervous. The will, well, he had no experience with wills, but he was pretty sure that if he thought about it too much, it would make him nervous too. His father had been a grade-A asshole. There was every chance that the old bastard had slipped some final insult into the will, and Forrester didn’t relish the prospect of finding out what it was.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Chapman, Forrester’s father’s attorney said. He took his seat behind his desk. His chair was large and soft, upholstered with polished leather. Forrester’s seat was a simpler thing, more like a dining room chair.
“You want some coffee, son?” Chapman said.
Forrester had noticed that everyone connected to the father’s death so far had referred to him as son, as if they were trying to make up for the shortcomings of the one man who should have called him that.
“No thanks,” Forrester said.
He didn’t mean to be short, he had nothing against Chapman, who for all intents and purposes seemed to be a perfectly fair-minded lawyer. He just didn’t want to draw out the reading of the old man’s will.
“All right then, I suppose we should get started.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Chapman pulled out a sheaf of documents that included old letters, legal papers, government forms, and of course, the will.
“I’ve read this will of course,” Chapman began. “In fact, I drafted it for your father and I can attest to the fact that he was of sound mind when he drew it up.”
“Good for him,” Forrester said.
“You should know that with your father’s property, his investments, and the sale of some annuities a few years back, he had a sizable estate. At last reckoning, it was valued at over half a million dollars. It would likely be a little higher now with the way property and stock prices have gone.”
“I don’t want it,” Forrester said.
Chapman paused. “Well,” he said, “the thing is, as the only living relative, your father left it all to you by default.”
“I just said I don’t want it.”
“I heard you,” Chapman said, “and naturally, I’d have to honor any wishes you had regarding the money, especially if you didn’t want it. There are rules in place for such eventualities. Plus, I’m sure there are a wealth of worthy causes we could think of together for making a donation.”
“I don’t care what you do with it,”
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