Gillian's Do-Over (9 page)

“What’s going on here?”

Quinn. Thank God!
Herb’s tentacles loosened from around her body and Gillian sidled sideways out of his clutches, relieved that she could breathe again.

“Get your hands off my mother!
” Quinn shoved Herb to the side, knocking him off balance. He landed with an oomph on the bed.

Gillian was amazed the bed didn’t collapse
from the impact.

“Thank you,
honey.” She wiped her hand against her mouth and gulped air before glancing at Herb. “I suggest you leave.” She grasped Quinn’s arm, thankful he’d saved her. He pushed her behind him, away from Herb, away from the bed and reached down to help Herb up.

“You heard her.
Leave,” Quinn repeated, his voice a growl identical to that of his father when he was on a tear.

Herb
hauled himself awkwardly to his feet, waving away Quinn’s helping hand. “I hear you.”

Quinn slammed the door and swung around to face Gillian.

She did not hesitate to fling herself into his arms. “Thank goodness you showed up.” She didn’t care that her chin was quivering, that she felt like a child seeking the comfort and safety of a father’s strong arms. But this was her son, her grown son. “I didn’t let him in, he just barged in,” she explained.

He patted her back gently.
“I guess I’d call that a ‘just in time’ entrance, eh, Mom?”

She released him and reached for a tissue to wipe he
r leaking eyes then blew her nose. “Yes, and a good thing, too. I was reading my book, minding my own business. I did
not
invite him in, just so you know. He did that all by himself. And he smokes cigars. Phooey!” She reached for her water bottle and headed for the sink, intent on washing out her mouth.

“Let me guess. You’re not interested in
having dinner with Herb,” he said drily.

“Are you kidding? The man practically attacked me!”
When she looked back at Quinn, she appended, “You
are
joking.”

“Bianca and I made a reservation at a restaurant down the road from the river. Want to come?”

“Do you even have to ask? Count me in!”

“Okay.
I’ll let her know.”

“Where is she?”

“Changing in our room.”

“You’re sure I won’t be in the way?”

“Seems to me, you need our protection. How long will it take you to get ready? Our reservation’s in an hour and we probably ought to leave in the next twenty minutes.”

“How dressy is this place?” She rummaged in her closet for something to wear that would hide her scraped up knee.

“Casual. Slacks will work.” Quinn peered out the window, as if checking to see that Herb was well and truly gone. “Come to our room when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be there
in ten minutes.” She gave him another hug. “Thanks for coming in when you did. I have no idea how I would have got away from that man.”

He patted her arm. “Never though
t I’d have to be your bodyguard. Lock the door behind me.”

Two days after Gillian returned from her white-water adventure-turned-disaster, she sat in Lauren’s kitchen sipping coffee and nibbling on a sweet roll.

Her neighbor was laughing and wiping her eyes. “Oh, that is too funny. I wish I’d been there to see your wiry-thin son take on th
at big galoot.”

Gillian grinned. “He sounded just like Owen when he got really mad. I guess Herb figured he was really in for it if he didn’t get out of there.”

“I’ll bet. So, when’s your next adventure? Didn’t you say Bianca asked you to go zip-lining with her?”

“What ever happened to genteel bridal showers
, maybe a wine-tasting at a local winery, or a nice quiet dinner among friends? Since when do brides take their special friends and their mothers-in-law zip-lining? You have to be joking if you think I’m going to do that. I can just imagine getting on that line and falling into some canyon or ending up snagged in a tree. No way am I going anywhere outside my comfort zone again.”

Lauren refilled t
heir coffee cups. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t so bad. You said you enjoyed the rafting part, at least before you ended up in the water. And even after. Wasn’t the after-lunch session calmer? When you saw the nest of eaglets or hawks or whatever those big birds were? Seems to me Herb was the only real negative.”

“Yes, but that was the part I still have nightmares about. This business of meeting men is
just plain dangerous. I’d rather stick to sketching in the park.”

“And going for walks with that nice doctor you met,”
Lauren crowed. “A male friend, you called him. What about that other guy, Matt, the lawyer? Isn’t he another one of your new man friends?”

Gillian’s heart gave a little jump and her stomach clutched. “I haven’t seen him in ages. He’s probably forgotten
all about me. Not that we
did
anything that was memorable. Just a couple of chats on a park bench. Besides, he’s married, so you can’t count him.”

“He can still be your friend, as long as neither of you takes it past the friendship level.”

“Hmm. Maybe. Actually, chats on a park bench or sketching are more my speed. No more action adventures. My heart can’t take it, or my knees.”

Chapter
6

Matt eased his car into line to board the ferry to
Bainbridge Island. His housekeeper was holding down the fort while he indulged in a cycling event. He looked forward to biking the entire twenty-five miles. Time to forget about everything except the sun on his back, the wind in his face, and the pull of his muscles as he pedaled up and down the hills. The ride was a charity event he’d told TJ he would enter every year until he could no longer pedal uphill. The day promised to be perfect, with a light breeze and puffy clouds in an azure sky. He turned off the car radio and waited for the signal to drive onto the ferry. Other riders were boarding, some as walkons, pushing their bikes into position along one side of the car deck.

“Hey, Matt!”
TJ Todd, his salt-and-pepper beard fluttering in the breeze, waved at him as he leaned out of the front passenger window from a car ahead of him in the same lane.

“
TJ, how are you? I figured you’d be riding today.”

“My beautiful bride would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“Anyone special going with you?”

“None other than the smartest girl at
the University of Washington.” TJ laughed. “Allison insisted on coming.”

“
Ah, your beautiful daughter.” Matt waved. “I’ll see you two on deck.” He drove onto the ferry, parked the car and headed up the stairs to the observation deck.
He still calls her his bride, two years after the leukemia got her. A sure sign of true and lasting love.

He regretted that he
was feeling nothing but frustration with Marnie’s latest demands. Well, that wasn’t fair. She hadn’t asked for the stroke and her ability to do even the simplest chores was declining by the day. Something he couldn’t do anything about, which left him resentful and guiltily envious of TJ. Funny how one woman’s illness had brought her husband closer, while he’d felt pushed away by Marnie’s condition. TJ’d lost his wife to cancer, but she’d been lucid to the end.
Lucky TJ
. Matt, on the other hand, was losing Marnie by words, by degrees, each day a different challenge. And lately, she’d looked at him as if she wasn’t quite sure who he was.

At least
he was still close to his two sons and his niece, and doing his best to protect them from feeling the need to provide care for Marnie. Before the boys had deployed overseas, Matt had insisted they not come over when days were especially bad. His younger son had always been particularly close to his mother. It was Wes, however, who had questioned Matt’s insistence on renovating the house so his office could be located on the main floor. His older son had said Matt needed distance, too. Wes had always tried to take care of him.

Now he was l
iving above the store. His late father, who’d done the same when he was alive and owned the drug store, was probably laughing his ass off. Matt had insisted he’d never combine home and work in the same building. Now he was doing just that.

Matt
angled his way up the stairs, past clusters of people in the wide hallway. He spotted TJ standing near the bow with Allison. Matt gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Allie. How’s life treating you?”

His father answered for her. “She just got accepted
into law school, counselor. How’s that for my little girl? Her mother would be so proud.”

“I’m sure. Congratulations. Where are you going?”

The young woman smiled. “I’m not sure. Both places have good programs.”

“You got
two acceptances?” Matt chuckled. “This calls for a celebration. Can I buy you a latte?”

Allison
giggled. “Dad already did. We drank them in the car.”

“
How about when the ride stops for lunch? The next one’s on me.”

TJ
put his arm around his daughter and steered her back inside as the wind picked up and the ferry moved away from the dock. Matt followed, wishing Heather hadn’t said she’d be working this weekend. Carl and Wes would have ridden, too, had they been home. He said a little prayer that they stayed out of harm’s way during their military obligations.

Matt
waved to TJ and Allison when the dock came into view. “I’ll see you at the starting line.” He headed down the stairs to prepare to disembark.

Gillian’s seat near the windows of the Bainbridge Island restaurant offered her an unobstructed view of the nearby ferry terminal and the Seattle skyline to the east. The angle of the afternoon sun was perfect as she sketched the ferry dock when another big boat approached. Foam curling under the bow created a perfect contrast to the straighter lines of the vessel.

Sounds of
muted laughter outside caught her attention. Gillian rose and stretched. Cyclists were lining up with their bikes, preparing to board the ferry. A group of men and women clustered together near the dock. Cars, some carrying racks with bikes attached, also idled nearby.

She reached for
her sketch pad and quickly captured the look of the group before joining the throng of walkons following the cyclists. Matt had a bike. Was he part of the group?

As she took a seat near the bow of the big boat, she watched several cyclists gathering nearby, each holding steaming cups.
Probably warming up after the ride.
Standing off to the side, peering out of the windows of the ferry, was Matt Gordon, his bike shorts calling attention to his leg muscles, his shirt stretched across his chest. Gillian felt a little thrill of desire as her imagination took over, seeing herself brushing a lock of hair off his face when he leaned down to pick up a napkin that had fluttered to the throbbing deck of the ferry. Throbbing like her pulse. Did he enter lots of charity rides? One of the people seated near her had mentioned the Bainbridge ride was raising funds for a local cancer center.

She
gathered up her supplies and prepared to disembark when the announcement over the loudspeaker sent most of the passengers in the direction of the stairs leading to the car deck.

Two days later Gillian opened the door. “Come on in.”

Lauren looked over the pen-and-ink sketches spread out on the counter next to the handful of pastels also completed. “These are great! Is this what you did when you took the ferry the other day?”

“Yes. I’m trying to decide if I want to frame any of them. What do you think? If you had to choose, which one would it be?”

“I don’t know. They’re all great. I love this little group of children
, and the ones of the gulls and the ferry are terrific. You could make note cards of these and sell them. I’ll bet one of the gift shops at the ferry terminal would love to carry them.”

Gillian gave her neighbor a quick smile. “You’re trying to
get me to start my own business.”

“Well, why not? You said you’re retired, but your drawings are so darn good. You should at least ask someone besides me.”

“Already did. Mo said the same thing.”

“
Mo’s such a nice man. And now you have two opinions.”

Gillian
gathered up the drawings and slipped them into plastic covers. “Here, have a cookie with your coffee. I want to pick your brain.”

Lauren chuckled. “As if there’
s much to pick, but go ahead.”

“Quinn and Bianca finally set a date.”

Lauren nodded.

“I want to set up a trust fund—use some of Grandmother’s money that Quinn never needed—for their child or children to come.”

“That’s very generous of you. But why don’t you just set it up for Quinn?”

“No. He
’d probably say he doesn’t need it. He’s got a great job and a terrific future, and Bianca’s likely to be making plenty of money, too, assuming she keeps practicing.”

“I hear a giant ‘but
.’” Lauren reached for another cookie.

“
You’re right.” Gillian sighed and brushed her hair back off her cheek. “I’m not so sure about Bianca. She’s nice enough, but if the money went to Quinn, the two of them could use it and I really want to protect it for their
children
, assuming they have any. What if they get divorced? I’m just not sure how to go about protecting that money.”

“Sounds to me like you need to talk to an estate planner or a lawyer who knows about wills and things. Isn’t a trust sort of like a will?”

“I’m not sure what the differences are. Whether that would be enough. Protection, I mean.”

“Why don’t you call that lawyer you met at the park? He could probably answer your questions
. Maybe without charging you. Or refer you to someone.”

Gillian flushed. “He’s probably too busy for something like that.
And I don’t know if he does trusts.”

“Big case, small case. He probably takes all kinds. All you have to do is call and ask—or stop by his office and talk to his reception
ist. He or she could tell you.”

“Hmm. Maybe I will.” But where was his office? She’d have to look it up.
“Want to go for a walk? It’s a lovely day.”

“
Sure, why not?”

Gillian
grabbed a pair of sunglasses. “You may need some, too.”

Lauren
led the way out the back door, through the side yard and into her kitchen.

“Thank goodness
Kirk kept that gate in our fence after your boys and Quinn were grown.”

Lauren grinned. “He knew you and I used it more than
the kids did. I’d have really yelled at him if he’d blocked it.” She wiped a tear away.

Were Lauren’s tears of laughter, or remembrance of her late husband who’d been dead only two years?
Gillian patted her hand. “Bless him.”

The two friends strolled down the street
for two blocks and turned in the direction of the park. Five minutes later, Lauren and Gillian walked slowly down the bike and walking trail. In the middle of the week and before school let out, the trail wasn’t as crowded as on the weekends. Gillian picked up her pace and Lauren hastened to catch up. After a few minutes, Lauren slowed.

“
I’m worn out. Even my flab is complaining. I’m going home,” she panted. “You don’t need to. I know you’re just getting started.”

“
Not so much that, but I wanted to make the entire circuit around the park.”

“Take your time. Walking’s always been more your gig than mine.” Lauren patted
Gillian’s shoulder and headed back in the direction of her house. “I’ll put the teapot on.”

Gillian
waved and continued down the trail. Three-quarters of the way around the park, she detoured to sit down at a picnic table. After resting, she spied the monkey bars in the play area. No children occupied the space today. She climbed up the steps and reached for a bar. It had been so long since she’d tried them herself. Surprised at how much harder it was to move forward, she missed her second swing and dropped to the ground.

“You do that very often?”
Matt’s voice was tinged with humor.

Gillian
looked his way, feeling her cheeks warm at his words. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be watching,” she replied. “Why is it I keep running into you at the park?”

“I
come here almost every day that I’m not seeing clients. To warm up or cool down.”

“Oh. So your office is nearby and not downtown?”

“Yes.” Matt was in hiking shorts, a light jacket slung over one shoulder.

“Y
ou’re hiking today?”

“
I saw two clients this morning and decided to take a quick jaunt this afternoon. I was just coming back, actually. But I’m not quite ready to go inside. Now that the breeze has died down and the sun’s out again.”

Gillian
nodded, debating with herself. “May I ask you a question?”

One
broad shoulder rose. “Sure.” He took a seat next to her and seemed to gather his thoughts as he gazed at the ground.

“
I’m trying to understand how the law works regarding a trust. It’s different from a will, right?”

“
There are similarities.”

Gillian
’s pulse started to climb.

“You do fraud cases—I read about
a big one you won.”

He nodded.
“My client wasn’t really interested in taking the firm to court after he was accused of the wrongdoing. He knew he’d never be able to work there again, but I advised him he had to use money to get their attention—a kind of a slap upside the corporate head, something they couldn’t ignore. At first he offered to settle if they would retract their statements. When they refused, we took them to court and demanded a settlement.”

“Which you won.”

His mouth curved upward. “Not quite as much as we asked. But we got their attention.”

“You said it took a long time.”

“Almost two years. Not all clients are willing to wait that long. The law grinds slowly, slower than most people realize.” A dimple in Matt’s right cheek winked at her when the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “But my client was happy he stuck it out. He won enough to be able to retire. He owns a boat now, lives aboard near some island where it’s warm all year.” As if anticipating her thoughts, he added, “That was the last case I took at my old firm. After it was concluded, I turned over most of my clients to a colleague and opened my own shop. A few people came with me … ones I invited. Now I’m slowly building up my list of clients, though I don’t intend to take many trial cases.  Mostly contract work. I like controlling my life a bit more.”