Water's Edge by Robert Whitlow Page A

tractor, but Tiff didn’t think I did a good job.”
    “You have more important things to do, honey,” Tiffany answered, patting him on the arm. “And I don’t want you turning the tractor over on top of yourself. Besides, Junior needs the work. He has two babies and a third on the way.”
    “Junior?” Tom asked. “What kind of truck does he drive?”
    “Uh, I think it’s an old Ford,” Rick answered.
    “What color?”
    “It used to be white, but it’s pretty scuffed up. Why?”
    “It has to do with one of the files I was reviewing at my dad’s office.”
    “Is Junior in trouble?”
    “No, no. My father’s client was a pedestrian hit by a car. He thinks a man named Junior may have seen what happened.”
    “I don’t know Junior’s real name, but his last name is Jackson,” Rick replied. “He’ll be here in the morning, and I’ll tell him to call you next week.”
    “Thanks. If he’s the right guy, I need to pass the information along to my client so he can give it to his lawyer.”
    “Why don’t you help the man who was hurt?” Tiffany asked.
    Tom shook his head. “I’m here to shut down my father’s practice, not continue it.”
    “I wish you’d move back,” Tiffany answered with a slight pout.
    “Me too,” Rick said.
    A middle-aged woman with bleached-blond hair entered the veranda with plates and silverware in her hands.
    “Thanks, Mary. I’ll get the glasses,” Tiffany said.
    Tiffany left. Mary quickly positioned the plates and silverware on a glass-topped table and left. Tom leaned closer to Rick.
    “Did Larina come with your father?”
    “She hasn’t been to Bethel since Christmas. My father loves the Parker-Baldwin house, but she gets bored here in thirty minutes. It’s a sore subject. But I’m always relieved when she doesn’t come. Larina makes Tiffany feel uptight about committing some massive social faux pas.”
    “Faux pas?” Tom responded with raised eyebrows. “Isn’t that what Coach Ackerman yelled from the sidelines when you dropped the pass in the fourth quarter of the play-off game against Walker County?”
    Rick punched Tom in the arm. “You didn’t block the linebacker who was blitzing, and the ball came in too low. No one could have caught that pass. It almost bounced off the ground.”
    Tiffany and Arthur joined them.
    “Rick and I were telling Tom that he should move back to Bethel and continue his father’s law practice,” Tiffany said to Arthur.
    “Forget that,” Rick replied. “He won’t leave his fancy law firm in Atlanta.”
    Tom looked at Arthur, who shook his head slightly.
    “There’s been a recent change,” Tom said, clearing his throat. “I’ll fill you in over supper.”
    They ate roasted Cornish game hens with herb dressing, green beans seasoned with almonds, and a stewed squash dish. Tom told them about losing his job and the breakup with Clarice. Arthur added his part about Pelham Financial.
    “Couldn’t Tom still do some legal work for you while he’s looking for a job?” Tiffany asked when Arthur finished.
    “It’s not that simple,” Tom cut in. “Pelham Financial’s legal needs are more complex than a sole practitioner can provide. It takes a team of lawyers to service—”
    “Don’t sell yourself short,” Arthur interrupted. “I predict a bull market in Tom Crane stock. And I’m rarely wrong. I believe in investing in the people who’ve invested in me and my family. No one has done that more than you. I think something will open up for you soon.”
    Tiffany caught Tom’s eye and winked. “Which brings me back to my original question,” she said. “Why don’t you stay in Bethel?”
    “Yeah,” Rick said. “There’s a decent airport in Chattanooga. And if Elias gets tired of taking care of you, you can stay with us. You can even bring that handsome dog of yours along.”
    “I’d love having you at the house,” Tiffany added. “There’s a guest suite that hasn’t been used more than a couple of