With a Grain of Salt (Lindell Book 3)

Chapter 18

Claire

I look around the breakroom before pulling up the local social media page. I”m not doing anything wrong, but I”d never be able to convince my mind of that fact. I always feel a little guilty going to this site because of how much people use it to gossip. I hate it so much when I”m the focus of that gossip, so I don”t want to contribute to it.

I joined this group at the suggestion of someone at the grocery store when they asked about an event and I had no idea what they were talking about. All posts happen in this particular group.

You can find out about garage sales and if someone is looking for something. Everything that happens in town either begins in the group or is posted about there. With the anonymous feature, some even try to make posts thinking no one in town will know it”s them. I”m looking at you Bobby John Pritchard.

Instead of asking myself or posting anonymously because, let”s face it, the group has an admin and anyone who knows how to navigate through this particular social media site can see who that is. I can”t count the number of times I”ve seen Natalie Byrd, owner of The Byrd”s Nest, the only bed-and-breakfast in town, with her head bent, spreading the latest news in town.

I have no doubt if I post that I”m looking for an attorney, the rumor mill will run rampant with speculation. Instead, I search for the word using that feature in the group, groaning when I see only one name listed.

Barrett Hyde is the only attorney in town, and I was hoping that there would be other recommendations. If I allow myself to believe any of the rumors I”ve heard, Barrett isn”t the most approachable man in town. I need information, not to be disrespected or looked down upon.

I exit the social media page and pull up the browser on my phone. I search for attorneys near me. Despite other names populating less than an hour from me, I know my car is a hunk of junk and it would be my luck to get over there and get stuck. My budget isn”t tow truck flexible.

I sigh as I pull up Barrett Hyde”s office information, but I know better than to place that call in the breakroom where anyone and everyone can walk in and get right in the middle of my business.

I stand, throw away my trash from lunch, and step outside. Cold slaps at my skin at first, but it”s tolerable when I find a spot in the sun with the building forming a windbreak. Pulling in a deep breath, I angle my chin up, letting the warmth cover my face. I know I need to spend more time outside. If only there were more hours in the day, and the sun didn”t set by the time I got off work from the vet clinic. Spring is always better after the time changes. Although I have other reasons for wishing the holidays away, I know I always feel rejuvenated at the same time the trees start turning green and the flowers begin to bloom.

My finger hovers over the call connect button on my cell phone as I consider just how different my life could be if the attorney is able to help me. I”m not a materialistic girl, but four hundred thousand dollars could go a long way. Another wave of guilt hits me, and I know I”d never keep that money. My relationship with Hux wasn”t exactly what everyone in town thought it was. There was no whirlwind romance.

What I would use the money for is to pay off the debt he left me in and reimburse myself for the fees and penalties I”ve paid over the last three years. I could do fine in Lindell with my job here at the vet”s clinic if I wasn”t under that cloud of debt. I could keep my shifts at The Hairy Frog and be able to afford a car payment so that way I wouldn”t have to look in Walker”s judgmental eyes when I asked him for help.

Just the thought of that man makes me want to scream. We both got what we wanted the other night. Why did he have to be such a dick after? Maybe it wasn”t a romp as impressive as others he’s had, but the small, cramped room didn”t exactly give us many options. He took me how he wanted me, and when he turned me around rather than just letting me bend over in front of him, I thought he”d be pleased.

”Forget about him,” I mutter as I press the button on my phone.

”Thank you for calling Ditcher, Quick, and Hyde. How may I help you?”

Two things hit me at once—the ridiculous yet very misogynistic name of the office, and the contradiction in this sweet older woman”s voice.

”Hello?” she says when I remain silent too long.

”Umm, yes, hi. My name is—”

”Claire Kennedy,” the woman says. ”We”ve been expecting your call.”

”Excuse me?”

The woman chuckles. ”We have caller ID, hon. Would you like to set up an appointment to speak with Barry?”

Barry?

Maybe he allows his office assistant to call him that because of her age. It wouldn”t be the weirdest thing I”ve encountered in this town, that”s for sure.

”I would.”

”We have time now if you can make it down here in the next ten minutes.”

I pull my phone from my face and frown at the time displayed on it.

”I only have a few minutes left for lunch. Is it possible to come this evening?”

”That would be fine, dear, but please try to make it before six. It”s Monday and we don”t want to miss out on Ruth”s chicken and dumplings.”

”Thank you so much,” I tell her before hanging up.

I don”t feel any lighter once the call ends. I”ve tried my best not to get excited since Walker mentioned this payout. My life doesn”t work this way. The only reason I have any form of luck is because the folks in town have taken it upon themselves to make sure I win giveaways I didn”t even enter and ones I think never existed other than them saying I won something. I know they”re doing it to help, and there are several things that I”ve ”won” that have helped a ton, but at the end of the day, it”s a result of people being in my business.

Although I don”t have much free time, I”m still a little annoyed that so many are quick to make sure I win a grocery giveaway, but they”re less likely to invite me to socialize.

I don”t think they”re trying to be rude, and maybe that”s on me too. When I first got to town, I turned down more invites than I could count. Maybe I became the hermit who simply went to work and didn”t want to be bothered.

That”s why Madison”s invite for a play date last weekend was so special to me. It was the first time in a long time that someone wanted to involve me past what the entire community might be doing at any given random event. Madison hasn”t been back in town for very long, and maybe that”s the difference. She doesn”t see me as the isolated widow who doesn”t want to be included.

I pocket my phone and head back inside. I may not get a windfall from Hux”s death, but at least with the help of this attorney, I”ll be able to know that for sure.

I don”t feel any better about speaking with him when I realize money or no money, the man is going to expect to be paid. If there is money to be had, then it would be no problem. If not, it”s going to be a very expensive conversation.

***

The second half of the day took what felt like forever to end, but somehow, despite it being Monday, we were able to get out of the office on time.

When my car starts right away, I refuse to think that my luck might be turning around. Hope is such a dangerous thing. I”ve been burned by it so many times in life, that I”m not certain that I have the ability to shift others” luck into the positive just by association.

There”s only one pickup truck in the parking lot at Ditcher, Quick, and Hyde. As I get out of the car, I pray it belongs to the attorney and not some other person in town who is going to run to The Brew and Chew and let everyone know that I”m here.

The office looks to have been a small house at one point, the wooden ramp and wide front door seeming a little newer than everything else. Despite the season, the front flower beds are immaculate and well-maintained.

I feel awkward as I approach the front door, unsure if I should knock or just open the door. I obey the Come on in. We”re OPEN sign and turn the knob, only to be met with a front reception area with a couple of chairs and a small desk.

From the computer screen on the desk, I hear some sort of sitcom with a laugh track in the background playing. It doesn”t seem very professional, but how much work could a small-town attorney actually get? I imagine there are days filled with a whole lot of nothing.

”Grams!”

I startle at the yell coming from somewhere deeper in the office.

No one responds, but the phone begins to ring.

”Grams!”

A rustling meets my ears, and all I can do is stand in the middle of the reception area, looking and feeling insanely awkward. Yelling out that I’m here would only add to the chaos.

A few seconds later, the phone stops ringing and a large man fills the doorway of the room straight ahead.

”Mrs. Kennedy,” he says, his smile growing but also somehow remaining guarded.

I hate to think the rumors are true, that this man hates women.

A door closing to his left draws both of our attention.

”Mrs. Kennedy is here,” he says, waving his arm in my direction.

”That”s lovely,” the woman says, and I recognize her voice from my phone call earlier. ”Hello, dear.”

I smile at her as she shuffles toward me.

”Hello,” I respond.

”I”m sorry I wasn”t out here to welcome you. I was taking care of the trash.”

He called her Grams earlier, and if this poor frail woman is his grandmother and he”s making her come in and out of the cold to handle trash—

You know what? Not my business. If I want people to stay out of my business, then I don”t get to have an opinion about their dynamic.

”I just arrived,” I assure her.

”Come on back,” Barret says, his voice gruff and sounding mildly annoyed.

”She”s your grandmother?” I ask as I follow the sweep of his hand and take a seat in the chair across from him.

”You may call her Mrs. Hyde,” he says rather than directly answering my question. ”I stayed late for this meeting. Let”s talkabout why you”re here.”

”It was brought to my attention that my late husband would”ve possibly had a payout after his death. The Servicemembers” Group Life insurance more specifically.”

He nods, watching me as I speak rather than writing anything down.

I pull in a deep breath when he doesn”t ask any questions. I know I have to have this conversation with him and at the end of the day, his opinion about me or women in general doesn”t matter.

”I researched online that it should”ve been four hundred thousand dollars. I got a different payout of just a little over twelve thousand dollars.”

Barrett slides a file closer, and I want to spit fire at seeing my name on the folder tab. I guess after my conversation with Mrs. Hyde earlier to schedule this appointment, I should”ve realized that Walker wouldn”t keep his nose out of my business. The attorney has no questions because I”m certain Walker has answered them all.

I bristle as he opens the folder.

”I have some paperwork for you to complete. It will allow me to make calls and gather information on your behalf.”

I take the paperwork he hands me and pull a pen from the cup holding many on his desk to complete it when he doesn”t offer me one.

He doesn”t tell me much else, just that he”ll let me know what he finds out.

I feel about how I”d expect to feel any other day when I leave and head to Nora and Leo”s house to pick up Larkin.

As always, I”m met on the porch by Nora, her body forming a blockade, preventing me from stepping inside if I ever let that idea cross my mind. Honestly, I prefer the porch pickup. It means I don”t have to make awkward excuses to leave. I can spend as little time as possible interacting with her.

I frown as I climb the front porch steps and don”t spot Larkin.

”When she”s capable of telling time, she”s going to know you”re late picking her up.”

I already caught this attitude from her earlier when I called to let her know I would be a little late this evening.

I”m not even as late as I normally would be on a Monday when the clinic is so busy with things that happen over the weekend.

”I had a little business to take care of,” I repeat, using the same words I told her earlier.

”Is it the same business that kept you so late at the bar Saturday night?”

I can”t help the way my jaw hangs open as I slow-blink at her. The nerve of this woman, but also the nerve of whoever might”ve seen my car outside The Hairy Frog and thought it was appropriate to speak to her about it. It feels invasive and intrusive.

I smile when Larkin appears around her grandmother, waiting to speak to her after she hugs the woman”s leg and tells her she loves her.

”I”d like to urge you not to get involved with a man in a bar, Claire.”

Little does she know that her son was also a man in a bar to me once.

”Are you ready?” I ask Larkin when she beams at me, unwilling to engage in that topic with Nora.

”It”s mini corn dog day!” Larkin says, her eyes lighting up like our daily meal plan is the best thing ever.

”You had dinner,” Nora says to her. ”Remember? Since your mom was late?”

Larkin frowns, and although I”m not a violent woman, it doesn”t keep intrusive thoughts about punching her inside her house and slamming the door in her face from infiltrating my head.

”That”s okay. We can just have fewer mini corn dogs,” I assure Larkin before speaking to Nora. ”We”ll see you in the morning.”