Patricia Johns – A Baxter's Redemption (страница 3)
“So you want me to give her your advice?” James clarified.
“And keep me informed.”
This was very quickly inching beyond the scope of his job description, and James glanced around the room while he gathered his thoughts.
“I won’t follow her,” he said, bringing his attention back to Mr. Baxter. “I’m your lawyer, not a private eye.”
“I thought you’d be willing to be somewhat flexible.”
James smiled grimly. He’d never been described as flexible in anything, least of all matters of conscience. “Not that flexible, sir.”
Anger simmered in Mr. Baxter’s eyes, but he nodded and turned away for a moment. “Fine. But give her advice so that she doesn’t do anything stupid, would you?”
“That I can do,” James agreed.
“She wasn’t raised to survive in this world without that pretty face, James. I spoiled her, and I let her think that she was doing things on her own when she never was. I had friends buy two thousand dollars’ worth of scarves with my money. She needs more help than she realizes.”
James was more familiar with his boss’s daughter than the older man even realized. He’d been in her graduating class, and his cousin had dated her. Everyone knew Isabel Baxter.
“Understood, sir.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, unless you wanted to move into another billable hour, I’d best be on my way.”
Mr. Baxter shot him a grin. “All right then. I’ll be in touch.”
The housekeeper showed James to the door, and as he stepped out onto the spacious veranda, he was mildly surprised to see Isabel sitting in a shiny black sedan, the windows down and her head leaning against the headrest. She glanced toward him as he trotted down the stairs. He grimaced inwardly. While he was curious to see if Isabel had changed at all since her disfiguring accident, she still wasn’t high on his list of favorite people. He couldn’t just walk by, though, so he angled his steps toward her car.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“My car won’t start.” She glanced toward the house. “And I can’t go back in there.”
He nodded. He could understand that, at least. The tension in there had been unmistakable.
“Want me to take a look?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the hood of the car.
She arched a brow—a look she’d perfected years ago, but when she did it now, it tugged at the damaged skin along her temple. “You fix cars, too?” she asked incredulously. “I thought you were the lawyer.”
“I am, but my dad’s a mechanic. I picked up a few tricks.” She really didn’t seem to recognize him, and he wondered why that even surprised him. She’d flirted her way into having him fix her car after a fender bender back in high school, too. But that was when she was “secretly” dating his cousin, Andrew. Of course, she couldn’t tell anyone about their relationship, but she could cash in on James’s skills to hide her bad driving from her father.
She leaned forward from the driver’s seat, stretching to reach something, then the hood clicked and released. She opened the door and got out, meeting him at the front of the car. A waft of vanilla perfume tickled his senses as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He tossed the jacket over the side mirror and lifted the hood.
“So you’re a Yale grad,” he said.
“Hmm.” She leaned closer, watching as his fingers moved over the engine, looking for the issue. He spotted the loose wires almost immediately.
“How long are you back in town?” he asked.
“For as long as I need to. I don’t have a leaving date yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
James raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he tightened the connections. So the prodigal daughter had returned—for now. He doubted that many people in this town would be happy to hear that. Isabel had been a beauty, but she’d also left her mark, Andrew being just one of her casualties. Andrew claimed they were dating for months, but there was no outward sign of it. James had thought his cousin was making it all up until he actually spotted them together one evening. Andrew was a math whiz, and Isabel had needed some tutoring. Apparently, it panned out, because she’d gotten into Yale. James had always suspected she got more than just the tutoring out of Andrew, because she’d continued with the relationship for a few months after the SATs. It was when her friends found out she was dating a poor boy from the raggedy side of town that she’d dumped him and told the school that it was nothing more than tutoring—that Andrew had made it all up. Andrew had been heartbroken and left for boot camp before prom. He was sent to Afghanistan and never did make it home.
We’ll take that road trip together before I go, his cousin had promised... It hadn’t happened.
“Your father hired me as the family’s legal counsel,” James said, dropping the hood back down with a bang. “That includes you.”
“I might be better off getting my own lawyer,” she said. “To protect my interests.”
“Against Britney, you mean,” he clarified.
“Yes.” A spot of color appeared in her cheeks. “You have to admit that things are complicated. I’m not entirely sure that my father has my best interests at heart right now.”
“My job is to offer you legal advice,” James said. “I’m not interested in playing sides. I’m a lawyer, and a good one. Your father is footing the bill. I’ll never tell you his private business and I’ll never tell him yours. If you hire another firm, legal fees will cut into that nest egg your father is signing over to you, but it’s up to you.” He straightened and nodded toward the driver’s seat. “Try again.”
Isabel got back into the car and turned the key. The engine coughed to life.
“Thank you,” she said, the old smooth voice again, a cool mixture of sweetness and indifference. She paused, cleared her throat and changed her tone. “What did you do?”
“Reconnected loose wires on the starter. It happens sometimes.”
“Well...” She smiled. “I’m grateful.”
“No problem.”
She eyed him for a moment. “What are they like?”
“Who?”
“My father and... Britney.”
“Happy,” he said with a shrug.
“You have to say that, don’t you?” Bitterness laced her tone.
“I don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “And I can’t say more than that. Like I said, discretion is part of the job.”
“Of course it is.” She smiled tightly. “Well, thanks again.”
She put the car into gear and pulled away, her tires crunching along the drive.
James was no longer a smitten teen. He’d never acted on his crush on Isabel because Andrew was dating her, but her cruelty was what doused his feelings for her. She was heartless and self-centered.
Would it have been different if she’d had the compassion to sit down and talk to Andrew instead of publicly mocking him? People broke up all the time, and it didn’t end their lives. Would Andrew have made different choices, maybe been more careful over there in the war zone, if her cruelty hadn’t pushed him out of town early? She hadn’t remembered him—and it made him wonder if Andrew had slipped from her memory, as well.
He’d do his job. He’d give her the advice her father wanted her to have, and he’d provide legal counsel should she require it. But after that, Isabel Baxter was on her own.
HAGGERSTON WAS A TOWN that landed like a splatter in the middle of open prairie, cut through by a highway, and left on its own in the patchwork of Montana’s fields and pastures. It was large enough to have the main amenities—a supermarket, a hardware store, a veterinarian clinic—but small enough that everyone still knew each other.
Isabel had been born here, and when she left home to go to college, she never thought she’d return. Not like this. She’d always imagined her homecoming to be a triumphal entry—a successful, beautiful woman come back for a quick weekend where she showed off her husband and kids. She’d be the topic of local gossip, word of her arrival spreading faster than the flu.
She had the gossip part down, she realized wryly, but not the way she’d hoped. Life had a way of turning full circle and swallowing a person whole.
When she’d graduated from Yale and moved to New York for her first job—a desk job in a marketing company—life had seemed shiny and exciting. And it was. For a young woman with family money, New York had a lot to offer.
One rainy evening after work last year, Isabel had headed out to catch a cab home. As she’d stepped out into the street to hail one, a bike had swerved around her and pushed her into oncoming traffic. She didn’t remember the car hitting her at all, but she did recall waking up in the hospital, in agony from head to toe. Her face had been badly cut, and from that moment on, she knew that her life would never be what she’d imagined.
After that first surgery, she could remember feeling like a heavy weight was on her chest, refusing to let her inhale. It was like being smothered from the inside, and when the doctors told her that she’d nearly died on the table, she knew she wouldn’t have another surgery. Vanity wasn’t worth dying for, but the adjustment to becoming ordinary when she’d been used to being stunningly beautiful was a difficult one. No one jumped to open doors for her anymore. No one checked her out in the street—unless one wanted to count the double takes from passersby when they saw the scars. They weren’t looking with admiration. They stared in pity, then dropped their gazes.