Chapter Twenty–Nine
A Bee In Her Bonnet
Charlotte was trying her absolute best to fit in but it was getting more difficult as the evening went on. Even Jordan was impossible, trying to take her drink away from her like she was a child and then all the schmoozing with the business men. She wrinkled her nose and looked around. There was no one in this entire room she wanted to talk to. Jordan had said people wouldn’t stay late, but no one seemed inclined to move on. She stole a glance at someone’s watch, easy because it was almost the size of a bread plate, and found it was only six o’clock. Her shoulders dropped; she had thought it was much later. This evening was taking forever.
Jordan came to her side and put his arm around her waist. “Are you alright?”
Before she could answer, Charlotte’s purse buzzed. She pulled out her burner phone and stared at its blank screen in confusion. Then she fumbled into the purse again, this time finding the iPhone vibrating like crazy. “It’s my mom.” She frowned. “I need to take this.”
“Business and personal phone, huh?” He looked disappointed.
She cursed herself for letting him see that but it was too late now. She stepped towards the side of the room and took a sip of her drink as she answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, your dad wants to talk to you.”
“Ah, right.”
Jordan came up behind her. She held out her glass—still oddly full—for Jordan to take while she waited for Dad to come on the line. “Won’t be a minute. You can talk to your country club friends, if you want.” She failed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The champagne was clearly going to her head.
“Lottie?” Dad sounded the same as ever.
“Who else? Is Mom playing secretary for you now?”
“Hah, I can’t get the hang of that silly smart phone you bought me. The buttons are much too small.” But his laugher disappeared pretty quickly. “It took me a while to make sense of those photographs you sent,” he said. “Lottie, what are you up to?”
“Me? I’m just out with a friend.” She winked at Jordan and moved towards the door. This sounded like a phone call she’d be better off having outside.
“A friend. A friend who happens to have paperwork from my ex-partner, George Lovett? I’d recognize his scrawl anywhere.”
“Well, sorta. This is not actually a great time to chat.” She closed the door behind her for some privacy, but she wouldn’t put it past Lauren to be listening in at the window.
“Have you been drinking?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. His voice was stressed. “How are you getting this stuff?”
“Dad, I’m a private investigator. This is what I do. Is the information I found of any use?”
“Honey, these people are bad news. I know, you got a bee in your bonnet about this...”
A bee in her bonnet? They were broke, his professional life was ruined, and he thought that was a bee? “Did you see those meetings?”
“Sure. But Lottie, meeting people isn’t illegal. There’s nothing he did...”
“He sure did something!” She hated having this argument with him. That was typical of her father, just wanting to drop it, not wanting to cause a fuss. But her middle name wasn’t ‘easygoing’ and she was not going to drop it. “Dad, he knew the land was worth millions, he must have.”
“Maybe he did. But knowing ain’t illegal either, Lottie.”
“He had inside information. Information he shouldn’t have had!”
“Lottie, I’m telling you, it’s not worth it.”
“Yes, it is,” she snapped back. “The truth is always worth it.”
He paused. “Seriously, are you drunk?”
“I’ve had half a drink, yes. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You sound a bit slurred, that’s all.” He took a breath. “And a bit aggressive.”
“Well, someone in this family has got to be.” Sure, it was easier to be angry after a couple of drinks. But there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, she’d not even finished her glass, why was everyone asking if she’d had too much? “Dad, are you going to help me find out what he did or not?”
It was quiet, just the hiss of the phone connection. Then he spoke, still sounding reluctant. “Well, for those names you sent me, Kenny James would be the important one. He was working with the EPA at the time, dealing with funding for the cleanup of brownfield sites. So yes, it’s pretty interesting they were meeting around about that time.” But he didn’t sound excited at her discovery. “But like I said, meeting people isn’t illegal, Charlotte.”
Charlotte frowned. He only used her full name when he was unhappy with her. But if it was up to him, he would let George Lovett get away with murder.
She thought about the cabinet full of names. “Kenny James, huh? Thanks. I gotta go.”
“Lottie, don’t do anything stupid.”
Too late, Dad. But she didn’t say it. “I won’t, Dad. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of trouble.” But as she went back into the party and felt her heart flip when the broad shoulders of Mr. Jordan Lovett came into view, she knew she was already in knee-deep into it.
Jordan gave her a quizzical look and she smiled weakly. Would he forgive her if she proved his father committed a crime, traded on inside information? Probably not. He seemed pretty cozy with the country club idea. Well, that was yet another good reason not to get too close to him.
She took the glass of champagne he offered her. “Thanks.” She knocked it back and held it out for a refill. She came here to be ruthless and that’s exactly what she was going to do.
When he reluctantly brought her the fresh glass, she snatched it and stalked over to the women clustered by the broccoli and pasted on a smile. “Tell me about the Christmas charity auction,” she said. “I heard it was the event of the season. Jordan wouldn’t miss it for anything.” They were happy to tell her all about it.
It was only her second glass of champagne but it went straight to her head. She pinched herself and carried on, intent on proving she could hold her own at a party like this. As she finished the second glass, though, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. She found a quiet corner to sit down.
Jordan was at her side at a moment. “Are you alright? Do you want to leave now? It’s plenty late enough.”
She gave him an unsteady nod. He helped her to her feet and walked her through the room, steering her unobtrusively with a hand at the small of her back. She was grateful for the help; navigating her way through the room seemed like an impossible task.
“You did great,” he said as they made their way up the stairs. “Everyone loved you, despite the joke about the priest and the bear.”
She furrowed her brow. She had told that joke, hadn’t she? Oh God. She’d clearly had a lot more champagne than she’d meant to. “I think I might be drunk,” she said.
“You are very drunk, darling. But you did fine, don’t worry.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Not far now, stay upright.”
“Gotta get up in the morning, go looking.”
“No, you don’t have to get up. You’ve got the day off, remember? We won’t leave until after lunch or maybe later. We’ll see how you are feeling tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Ruthless,” she said.
He laughed at that. “Yes, Rufus was a great dog, I know. Come on, let’s put you to bed.”
She stumbled into the room and lay across the double bed, kicking her shoes off. That was the last thing she remembered until the sunlight pierced the window the following morning.