27

D-U-N-N-E

“What are we doing here?” Angel asked quietly.

She uncrossed her legs, tugging at the hem of her skirt as if she wished it wasn’t riding mid-thigh.

Drew put the car into park and tugged down his visor. He adjusted his tie, smoothed his hair to the side, and flipped the visor back with a snap.

“Mr. Sugar?”

“It’s Drew. And, no matter what I say in there,” he said, staring at the office block in front of them, “you just nod and smile. Got it?”

Angel’s voice became tight. “What are you going to say?”

“If I told you…” Drew turned to her and gave her a cold smile. “It wouldn’t be a surprise.”

He had to prompt her to get out of the car. As it was, she walked a few steps behind him, arms crossed tightly over her chest as if the cool breeze was working its way through the chiffon of her skirt.

The receptionist at Harry’s small law suite gave Angel a blatant once-over and then turned a disapproving glare to him when he slid his arm around her waist.

“Here to see Harry,” he said, smiling at Angel when she twisted out of his grip and put a foot of distance between them.

The receptionist pressed a button, leaning closer to the intercom as she announced, “Your eleven-o-clock’s here, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Thanks, Dee,” came a crackly voice in return.

Seconds later, a set of double doors leading out of the reception area burst open.

“Drew!” The man that came out to greet them had seen too many glasses of brandy in his life; his ruddy face was crisscrossed with tiny veins which made his watery, pale-blue eyes seem that much paler. “Come on in.”

His eyes slid past Drew, fixing no doubt on Angel where she slouched against the reception counter. The small law office was empty beside them and the receptionist — but Harry glanced around as if wondering if the girl was here to see him too.

“Oh, this is Angel.” He twisted, beckoning the girl closer.

Angel gave him a small smile and stepped forward, flinching when he slid his arm around her waist again. He squeezed her and gave Harry a big smile.

“Angel,” the man murmured, stepping aside and spreading his arm so Drew could walk into the office. “Odette — some coffee in here, please?”

“Soda,” Angel said. “If you’ve got.”

“And a soda,” Harry called out when the receptionist clacked past them in high heels.

Harry’s office was furnished in dark, polished wood. There was one window, and it looked as if the blinds were always partially closed. Pity — what Drew could see through those slats were a few high rises and a vast stretch of open sky.

He pulled out a chair for Angel. She gave him a surprised, sidelong glance and then sank down in the overstuffed leather chair, crossing her legs and gripping the armrests like a defendant waiting to hear what sentence the judge was going to hand down.

“Great to hear from you again, Drew.” Harry sat opposite them, his chair creaking loudly when he swiveled it to face them. “Megan sends her love, of course. The kids don’t, but that’s kids for you these days.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Drew sat beside Angel, but perched on the edge of his seat, and laid his hands on the cool desk. “And thanks for seeing us on such short notice.”

Harry nodded vaguely, his eyes darting to Angel at the word ‘us.’ “Of course. Now, what can—” but then the man’s eyes lit up, and he waved away the rest of his sentence. “Over here. Thanks, love.”

The receptionist gave no indication as to what she thought of the term of endearment when she arranged the cups of coffee, a jug of cream, and a tub of sugar on the table. She slid a can of soda and a glass of ice over to Angel, giving the girl an expressionless look over her half-moon spectacles before leaving the room as loudly as she’d clacked her way inside.

“The door, Odette?”

The woman’s heels paused and then returned. The locks on the door clicked quietly when she tugged them closed.

Harry sighed and began spooning sugar into his coffee cup. “So… to what do I owe this honor? I mean, the last I saw you—” the lawyer broke off hurriedly, flushing for a moment before clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

Drew stood to draw his cup closer and then perched on the edge of his seat again. Stirring a swirl of cream into the black filter coffee, he said, “I need to make a few amendments to my trust.”

“Amendments?” This, while Harry’s eyes began roaming over Angel.

“I’ve just come from my realtor.” He tapped the file he’d brought inside with him. “She’s going to the records office today to process this—” he sucked air through his teeth “—what’s the blasted thing called again?”

He slid the file over to Harry, who tugged out the single photocopy and set it down with barely a glance.

“A quit claim? You’ve bought a new house?” The lawyer laughed. “You know you could just have put it straight in the trust’s—”

“For the lakehouse, Harry.”

Harry’s spoon froze. He drew it out of the cup and tapped it carefully against the rim. “The lakehouse,” he repeated, eyes now intent on Drew. He picked up the piece of paper again, his eyes scanning down its length. “I thought you were selling?”

Drew shifted, taking a small sip of coffee. “Changed my mind.”

“So you’re adding it to your trust?”

“All my assets are in there — why shouldn’t the lakehouse be?”

“No, of course,” Harry said, clearing his throat through the last word before taking a swallow of coffee and twisting to the discreetly placed intercom at the corner of his table. “Dee, love, could you draw Mr. Sugar’s file, please?”

He gave Drew an apologetic smile as if Odette should have realized he’d need the file and it was just plain impossible to find good help these days.

“Does it take long, adding something like this?”

“Nah. I just need to draw up a trust amendment for you to sign. Then, once we’ve done the redeclaration—”

“There’s more.” Drew had some of his coffee while Harry blinked at him.

“Okay.” The man sat back in his chair. “More? More how?”

Drew turned to Angel, gave her a fond smile, and laid a hand on her thigh. The girl glanced at him and smiled back after a second’s hesitation. “I need to add a beneficiary.”

The surprise in Angel’s eyes was so brief, he almost thought he imagined it.

“Two birds, one stone,” Harry said, drawing his eyes away from Angel’s placid expression.

“Excuse me?”

“We’ll do it all on one amendment. Save the rainforests and all that jazz, right?” Harry leaned over and pressed the intercom again. “Dee?”

Dee’s heels announced her. She came inside, setting a thick file down on the side of Harry’s desk before clacking out again. She had the flattest ass he’d ever seen on a woman, but it didn’t seem to bother Harry; the man stared at her like she was Aphrodite incarnate.

“Lemme see,” the man murmured, opening Drew’s file and paging through it. “Just the lakehouse, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll hang onto the penthouse in New York for now.”

Harry glanced up, giving a perfunctory chuckle at this. He slid a yellow legal pad from the top drawer of his desk and began scrawling on it in an illegible hand that Odette would no doubt have to decipher after lunch today. “Transferring property, lot number—” Harry glanced back to the photocopied quitclaim deed, ran a thick finger down the page and then went back to his pad “—and then adding a beneficiary. Name of beneficiary?”

“Angel Dunne.”

Harry began writing, paused, and then looked up. First at Drew, then across at Angel. “Dunne?”

“D-U-N-N-E.” He took a sip of coffee. “Do you need her social security number?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Angel shifting in her seat.

“Drew?” she whispered. “Can I speak to you—”

“Not now, sweetheart.”

“Dunne,” Harry mumbled, his pen scratching wildly over the pad. “Uh… and… what is Ms. Dunne to receive—”

“Drew,” Angel repeated, louder this time.

“The lakehouse. Or proceeds, of course.”

“Lakehouse,” Harry repeated quietly. “The one you’ll be adding, of course. All right. Uh… how should I note your relationship…?” The man trailed off and set his pen down when he didn’t respond immediately.

Drew lifted a finger. “About that.”

He took a last swig of his coffee, slid a hand into his pocket, and took out a small, velvet box.

When he turned to Angel, the girl’s eyes were as wide and blue as the sky that they would have been able to see through Harry’s window… if the man ever bothered to open his blinds.

“Angel Dunne,” he said, sliding onto a knee on the thick carpet beside Angel’s chair. “Will you marry me?”