Water's Edge Read online

“Maybe. I don’t know. They went fishing a lot once the weather started warming up, and Addington called the office regularly. It was easy to recognize his voice because of the accent.” Bernice paused. “But he always sounded on edge to me, especially for someone who was calling about a fishing trip. He spoke fast and demanded that he talk to your daddy right then. And your daddy took the call, even if he was working on something else. I chalked it up to his love of fishing. Was there any money left in the extra trust account?”

  “Yes, and I’m trying to figure out who it belongs to.”

  “How much is it?”

  Tom hesitated. “Enough that I don’t want there to be any chance of making a mistake about ownership.”

  “And you think it might belong to the Addington family?”

  “It’s one option. Addington’s daughter thinks Harold paid the firm a retainer, then my father wrote out a fee without doing the work.”

  “What?!” Bernice exploded. “That’s the most ridiculous—”

  Tom immediately regretted mentioning Rose’s accusation.

  “But it’s just a misunderstanding on her part. Don’t be too hard on her. She just lost her father too.”

  “Anyone who knew your daddy would never believe he’d do anything dishonest. I hope you straightened her out!”

  “Get back to your puzzle.”

  Bernice wasn’t going to be sidetracked. “I can’t believe the Addington girl accused your daddy like that. What’s her name?”

  “Rose, but forget I mentioned it.”

  “That won’t happen,” Bernice grunted. “And she won’t forget what I’ll have to say when I run into her!”

  chapter

  FOURTEEN

  Later that day Tom leaned back in his father’s chair with his feet on the desk. A pile of untouched files were stacked on the floor. He was reading Genesis and reached the part about Jacob’s dream of a ladder reaching to heaven with angels ascending and descending on it.

  Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” And he was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!”

  “A thin place,” Tom muttered. “Maybe this is where the people who believe in that stuff got the idea.”

  Then Jacob rose early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put at his head, set it up as a pillar, and poured oil on top of it. And he called the name of that place Bethel . . .

  Growing up, Tom was familiar with Jacob’s ladder from the Sunday school song, but he didn’t know the name of his hometown was in the Bible. His cell phone rang. The caller ID showed an unknown number with an Atlanta area code. Tom laid the Bible on the desk and answered.

  “Hey, Tom. This is Nate Becker. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

  Tom took his feet off the desk and sat up straighter. “No, it’s fine. I’m at my father’s office in Bethel.”

  “Mark Nelson told me you were going there to close down his practice.”

  “Yeah. Except for a couple of things to sort out, it’s not too complicated.”

  “There’s always something to deal with.” Becker put his hand over the receiver and said something Tom couldn’t hear. “We’ve picked up a few new clients over the past six months, and I’m running around like a crazy man. You know Darrin Walker, the CEO of the Advantage Group, don’t you?”

  Tom had met the head of the investment firm based in San Diego on several occasions. Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther wanted to capture Walker’s business when the company expanded to the East Coast.

  “Yeah. He’s a sharp guy.”

  “He thinks the same about you. At our initial meeting with him earlier in the week, it came up that you’d left your firm and might be in the market for a new opportunity. Darrin said he’d be interested in letting you work on their business. He mentioned a case in which you represented a codefendant—”

  “The Auburndale litigation.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Apparently, his lawyer at the time rode your coattails to victory.”

  “We got a good result for everybody.”

  “Don’t be modest. Anyway, the coincidence of all this coming together got my attention, and I brought it up at our partners’ meeting. Before you start sending out résumés, we’d like first crack at discussing a position for you with us. I have a ballpark idea about your salary working for Reid McGraw, and I can tell you up front you’re looking at a raise with a partner share in a year or two if everyone likes you as much as I’m sure they will.”

  It was exactly the kind of call Tom had dreamed of receiving. It took the remaining sting out of his termination by the old firm.

  “Thanks, Nate. I appreciate you getting in touch with me and not using what happened at Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther as a negotiating point against me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re used to, but that’s not our style. When Jack Sweet asked me to join him, I’d been canned by the Trimble and Wallace firm. Jack offered me a raise, and we haven’t looked back since. It’s a good culture over here. We work hard, play hard, and watch each other’s backs.”

  “Would I be in your litigation group?”

  “Yes. We handle a broader array of cases than you did at Barnes, McGraw, and Crowther, but we mostly keep to financial and commercial litigation. We also take on an occasional plaintiff’s case if we see potential for a recovery. Would you have a problem with that?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Some lawyers get locked into a billable hour mind-set and can’t switch sides. We settled a big plaintiff’s case a couple of weeks ago. The hourly rate assigned to the lawyers who worked on it was pushing $1,000 an hour. Of course, if we’d tanked, no one would have made a penny.”

  Tom’s eyes opened wide. “With that kind of possible upside, I wouldn’t mind taking a risk.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Becker covered the receiver with his hand again and spoke to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to jump on a conference call. Will you get back to me?”

  “Absolutely. Before I talk to anyone else.”

  “Great. Have a good weekend.”

  Tom set his phone on the desk. He’d gone from no options to three: continue his father’s practice with the added stability of work from Pelham Financial, join forces with Lamar Sponcler and learn at the feet of an accomplished small-town practitioner, or return to Atlanta and slip into familiar work with an excellent firm that already appreciated him. He flipped through the pages of his journal until he found an entry where he’d written Proverbs 3:5–6, followed by a prayer that he would receive a good job offer. He put a red star in the margin.

  ______

  Even though they weren’t inviting Esther and Rose Addington to supper, Tom and Elias had decided to cook steaks on the grill Saturday evening. When Tom rolled the grill from the garage, he saw the boxes his father had left stacked against the back wall. Most of them probably contained junk, but Tom suspected there were memories, happy and sad, waiting for him behind the corrugated cardboard walls.

  Elias sat in a rocker on the porch while Tom fired up the coals. He lightly seasoned the steaks with a simple rub of salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Rover raised his head and sniffed the air when Tom came out of the house with the steaks on a plate. Placing the plate on the ground, Tom began scraping the rust and debris from the grill with a wire brush.

  “How long has it been since you used this?” he called out to Elias.

  “Over a year. Your father smoked fish on it one night, and several men from the Mount Pleasant congregation came over to eat with us.”

  “There are bits of skin stuck to the grill,” Tom said. “Didn’t you think about cleaning it after you used it?”

  Tom had his back to the porch while he scrubbed the grill and turned around just in time to see Rover, his nose in the air, trotting across the yard toward the steak plate. Tom snatched the plate up from the ground.

  “W
eren’t you going to warn me?” he asked Elias. “Rover almost stole our supper.”

  “Sorry,” Elias said, opening his eyes. “I was thinking about that fish. I ate way too much. Your father not only knew how to catch fish, he also knew how to cook them. He could bake it, fry it, sauté it, grill it, smoke it, you name it.”

  Once the coals were covered in white ash, Tom placed the steaks on the grill, closed the lid, and checked the time on his watch. Rover lay down near the grill. Smoke swirled out the vents.

  “How do you want your steak?” he asked Elias. “I like mine medium-rare.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not afraid of red meat so long as we pray over it.”

  Tom sat on the porch steps. “A lawyer from a good firm in Atlanta called me this afternoon,” he said. “He wants to talk to me about coming to work with his group.”

  “Are you considering it?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tom told Elias about the call from Nate Becker and the conversation with Lamar Sponcler. He didn’t mention Arthur Pelham.

  “What do you think I should do?” he asked when he finished.

  “I’m not sure, so I’m not going to shoot off my mouth about it.”

  Tom eyed the old man with surprise. “It’s not like you to withhold your opinion.”

  Elias shrugged. “You’re learning how to take baby steps with God, and I don’t want to mess you up. One of the things an old man like me has to avoid is letting the failures of the past cast doubt on what lies ahead. Right now, your faith is stronger than mine.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No.” Elias shook his head. “Childlike faith that hasn’t suffered disappointments can be the best kind to have.”

  Later, while they were eating their steaks, Tom looked over at Elias, who was contentedly chewing a juicy bite.

  “Elias, are you a mystic?”

  Elias swallowed and eyed Tom for a moment. “No, I’m a carnivore, and every bite of this steak proves it.”

  Tom chuckled. “Rose Addington claims you’re a mystic.”

  “Really? I thought a mystic was someone who withdraws from the world and spends time having weird spiritual experiences.”

  “Then she’s right,” Tom replied with a confident nod. “You are a mystic.”

  Elias cut another bite of steak. “I’ll give you my opinion about one thing,” he said, raising his fork to his lips. “When God is moving in your life, you should enjoy the adventure.”

  ______

  Before Tom went to sleep he received a text message from Rick asking him to come a few minutes early. Shortly before dawn, he drove up the long drive to Rick and Tiffany’s house. The sun was still below the tree line, the sky streaked with gray. Tom parked in front of the quiet house. Before he got out of the car, the front door opened. He expected to see Rick.

  It was Tiffany.

  She was wearing jeans, a loose-fitting top, and boots. She was holding two mugs of steaming coffee. She lifted a mug to Tom as he got out of the car.

  “Thought you might like a hot one,” she said.

  “I never turn down a cup of coffee when I have to get up this early in the morning. Where’s Rick?” Tom asked, looking past Tiffany. “He sent me a text asking me to come early.”

  “He’s still snoozing. I sent the message. I wanted a few minutes with you alone before you left.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, I thought you might want to see the horses. Early in the morning is one of my favorite times to go to the barn. I have a mare filly you have to see.”

  Tiffany started walking toward the barn. Tom took a sip of coffee and followed. Tiffany’s jeans were too tight for horseback riding. The grass was wet with dew, the air chilly. Tiffany hugged herself with her arms.

  “I should have brought a jacket. Are you going to wear wet suits on the river?”

  “Probably.”

  Tiffany slowed down so they were walking side by side. When she did, she brushed against him. Tom glanced back at the house.

  “I went rafting on a slow section of the river in July,” Tiffany said. “It was hot enough to wear a bikini. Did you take any trips to the beach this summer?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “With Clarice?”

  “Once,” Tom answered.

  “What was that crazy girl thinking when she dumped you?” Tiffany asked, shaking her head.

  “That she didn’t want to deal with my issues.”

  Tiffany laughed. “You’ve got it more together than any other man I know.”

  They reached the barn. The dark wooden structure was a state-of-the-art horse stable. Tiffany pulled back a large door set on rollers. It opened smoothly. There was a broad aisle with stalls on the left and storage rooms on the right.

  “How many horses do you have?” Tom asked.

  “Seven right now. One is for sale, and I’m interested in buying another one.”

  “One for each day of the week.”

  “Not really. It has more to do with why each animal is here.”

  They stopped in front of the second stall.

  “Here’s my baby.”

  A skinny filly whinnied when she saw Tiffany, who held up her hand and waved it in front of the gangly creature’s head. The filly stretched out and shook her tail.

  “Isn’t she a beauty? They stretch or park out like that without being taught. It’s bred into them.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She has a fancy registered name, but her barn name is Lizzie. In a few months we’ll start training her.”

  They continued down the row of stalls. Tiffany talked about each horse. The uneasiness Tom felt about her asking him to come with her alone to the barn began to ease. Anyone who loves a hobby wants to share it with others.

  “I can see this is your happy place,” Tom said when they reached the end of the row.

  Tiffany patted the nose of an old gelding that had been a grand champion, then let him nibble a carrot.

  “Yes, it is.” She sighed as the horse took the last piece of carrot into his mouth. “Do you ever think back to our high school days?”

  “Not really.”

  “I do,” Tiffany said, turning so she faced him. “And for the past year I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind that I made a huge mistake going to the senior homecoming dance with Rick instead of you.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Tom said with a nervous laugh. “And I didn’t ask you.”

  “You were going to, and Rick stepped in. He’s told me the whole story. At the time I was flattered, but life isn’t about convincing a lot of guys to like you; it’s about finding the right one and not letting him go.”

  “And who has enough money to finance all this?” Tom gestured with his hand.

  “I could walk away from everything and not look back, but I won’t have to. You and I both know if I got a divorce based on irreconcilable differences, it would leave me a rich woman. All I’m asking for is a chance to make it work with you.”

  “Tiffany, don’t—”

  “Rick will be hurt at first,” Tiffany continued. “But he’ll find a woman who wants to go four-wheeling with him and be happier in the long run.” She stepped closer to Tom, who backed up against the wall. “What woman wants to waste the rest of her life with someone who doesn’t have a clue who she is? I’m not talking about an affair. If we can’t be together until the divorce is final, I’ll have to suffer through the wait. I can endure anything if I know you’ll be waiting for me at the end.”

  Tom slid to the side and out into the aisle.

  “We really shouldn’t be having this conversation. You made your choice, and Rick is a lifelong friend.”

  “I’ve agonized over this speech a thousand times. Do you think it’s easy for me to tell you this?”

  “I didn’t say anything about hard or easy. I just—”

  “Please, don’t!” Tiffany cut the air with her hand. “Look in your heart, and you’ll
see the truth I know is there. When you do, I’ll be waiting and take all the blame.”

  Tiffany turned and started walking toward the barn door. Tom followed. They trudged back to the house in silence. When they reached the front steps, Tiffany held out her hand for Tom’s coffee cup. He handed it to her. She let her fingers touch his. Her eyes closed for a moment.

  “Rick is probably up by now,” she said as she took the cup. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  The door closed. Tom rubbed his eyes. His head was spinning. He couldn’t deny that Tiffany’s words contained more than a grain of truth. There had been a unique quality to their high school romance. Tom had experienced deep passionate feelings for Tiffany he’d never duplicated with multiple girlfriends since. Images from their days and nights together crept out of his memory vault. There had been lots of good times, not just of the romantic variety, but also long talks on the phone and walks in the woods. Agitated, Tom started pacing back and forth in front of the house.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a car coming up the driveway. When it stopped, Tom didn’t recognize the man behind the wheel.

  “You must be Tom Crane,” the sandy-haired man said, getting out of the car and extending his hand. “Rick told me you’d be joining us.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Nick Whalen, a horse trainer at a stable near Chattanooga. Riders from my place often compete against Tiffany, and I recently sold her a nice filly.”

  “Lizzie.”

  “Right.”

  “I met Lizzie a few minutes ago when Tiffany and I went to the barn.”

  Nick looked past Tom. “Where’s Tiffany?”

  “Inside with Rick.”

  Each mention of Tiffany’s name made Tom’s stomach twist in a knot. Glancing at his car, he wondered if he could feign sickness so he could get away from the property.

  “I’ve sold Tiffany a couple of other horses,” Nick continued, oblivious to Tom’s torment. “She’s always in the market for an upgrade.”

  A shiny red pickup truck rumbled up the driveway. The vehicle had oversize tires on chrome wheels. As it drew closer, the driver gunned the engine, causing the truck to lurch forward.