Chapter 19
H arvey Sewell had recently moved into a new waterfront home.
A dozen or so similar mini-mansions extended along the river northeast of Beaufort.
Locals called the neighborhood Little Miami and scorned the wealthy owners who only resided there a few weeks each high season.
These same people formed a sizable portion of Harvey’s clientele.
Earlier that autumn, Harvey had closed his Morehead office and shifted to the home’s ground floor.
Rae had of course never visited, but she had heard the new digs perfectly suited Harvey’s overblown ego.
Rae parked in the circular drive and entered by way of glass-paneled double doors.
The downstairs antechamber held a chandelier, a sweeping staircase, a granite and onyx floor, an elevator, and doors to a lovely conference room.
Harvey’s outer office was empty, but the doors to his inner sanctum were open.
He waved her in, pointed to the phone planted to his ear, and raised a single finger.
Rae did a slow circle, taking in Harvey’s three hand-blown chandeliers, two Persian carpets, and a desk nearly as big as Brody’s boat.
She took up position by the rear window and resumed the internal dialogue she had started on the way over.
It had very little to do with Holden, which she found very interesting.
Holden was, quite simply, absent. Nor was she all that concerned about the coming conversation with Harvey.
Again, interesting. Normally she spent hours prepping, going over her lines like an actor preparing for the stage. Not today.
Instead, Rae dissected her own feelings about her future.
What was wrong with wanting a true lifetime partnership? Why couldn’t she seek a love that was big enough and sufficiently grand to include profession, job, work, hopes, aims? Because that’s what she wanted. A three-course lifelong feast. Like the contract stated. For better or worse.
“Rae Alden, as I live and breathe!” Harvey stepped around his desk with hand outstretched.
His smile was as polished as his nails. Even on an office-casual day he wore a striped shirt with cufflinks glittering in the afternoon light.
Carolina Panther suspenders accented the bulge of his substantial gut.
“Please tell me you’re not collecting for another charity. ”
“Not today.”
“In that case, welcome to my humble abode!” He made a process of ushering her over and holding the chair as she settled. “I swear, there’s been such a parade of folks with their hands out. I was ready to lock up and hibernate.”
“Thank you so much for seeing me.” Harvey’s office took full use of the view, with a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass sliders framed by drapes matching his carpets.
The full expanse of islands and water and horizon was partially blocked, however, by a massive yacht. “You certainly have a lovely home.”
“Kind of you to say.” He settled into his executive chair and swept a hand over the documents piled on his desk. “Sorry I can’t show you upstairs. But there’s work I have to complete before year’s end.”
“Of course.” Normally Rae entered such confrontations with her moves carefully mapped out in advance.
This time, such preparations were impossible.
She only had Brody’s word to go on. Rae was fairly certain his view of the situation was correct.
It fit perfectly with everything she knew about this attorney and his tactics.
Just the same, she had to be certain.
Rae started, “I understand you represent Mr. Emmett Reames in the ongoing divorce proceedings.”
“That is correct.” He pretended to search the files on his desk. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall seeing your name mentioned.”
“This is a recent development.”
Harvey extracted a file, but left it unopened. “No one informed me of a change in legal representation.”
“I represent the children in this matter. When is the court date?”
“January seventh.” His bonhomie was gone now. “The Reames children have an attorney?”
“One does. The son. This will perhaps soon change to include the daughter as well.”
Harvey only hesitated an instant. But those few sec onds were all the confirmation Rae needed.
He said, “Adult children bringing their own legal representation to their parents’ divorce is hardly necessary.
” His hand tapped the closed file. “Or even what might be considered standard legal procedure.”
Rae should not have been enjoying herself so much.
Real futures of real lives were at stake here.
Just the same, she could have bounced in her seat like a child on a trampoline.
Harvey was already unsettled, and she hadn’t even gotten to the juicy bits.
Which was hardly a surprise, given their history.
“But in certain cases, such representation is vital. And the court has agreed on numerous occasions.”
Harvey’s desk was absurdly large. He might as well offer visitors binoculars and a megaphone. “I suppose in such a case having an observer might be useful.”
Rae dropped the hand that had halted him in mid-flow. “I would not be present as an observer.”
“But … This is a divorce.”
“If financial impropriety is involved, the children’s legal representative can be added to the proceedings.”
“Nonsense.”
“Again, there are numerous precedents.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Dozens of them. Local, state, federal. Right up the food chain.”
“Well, be that as it may … What? ”
“How many times have you faced me in court, Harvey?”
Silence.
“Five. Five times. And in each and every case, I have, to put it in strict legalese, handed you your hat.” It was her turn to offer an insincere smile. “As you are no doubt aware, financial discovery can be made part of any divorce proceeding.”
Harvey’s bluster was a well-known component of his courtroom antics. “You have no idea what you’re involving yourself in here.”
“Actually, I do. Since my client has for years been involved in finance. We are in possession of corporate financial records, tax and otherwise, going back years. My client is concerned that the court will be presented with so-called secondary corporate accounts, supposedly revealing how funds have been siphoned off.”
Harvey might as well have stopped breathing.
His silence was all the confirmation Rae required.
“If that is the case, you and your client might suggest to the court this has only been discovered since the company’s bookkeeper resigned.
And perhaps also suggest your client has suspected for years that his firm should have been more profitable than it was.
And now you have evidence of theft. Or at least, you might so claim to the court. ”
As she spoke, Harvey’s features grew a sheen of perspiration. “You only think you know what’s going on.”
“You will present your evidence, and I will present mine. The court will decide who is telling the truth.” She rose from the chair. Smiling, gentle voiced, all sweetness and light. “As an officer of the court, you are no doubt aware that assisting in a fraud is grounds for disbarment.”
“That is an outrage!”
“The same goes for an attorney who knowingly presents false evidence.”
“Get out!”
“Consider yourself served, Harvey. If you and your client decide to go through with this charade, I will take it to the ends of the earth. And I will personally see you never practice law again.”
Brody knew something was seriously troubling Rae, just as he was certain she would not tell him what it was. He paced around the wintry lawn fronting his cottage, wishing he could do something to help her out, something worthwhile with his afternoon hours, something …
He walked around to the bookstore. When he stepped inside, the heavyset woman behind the counter gave him a slow up-and-down, then said, “Don’t you dare claim to be here looking for a book.”
“Actually, no. I was hoping for some advice.”
“Is that all.” Another of those slow looks. “You’re the Reames fellow back in Cabin Eight.”
“Six.”
“Just so I know where to tell the single ladies to go knocking. What kind of advice were you after?”
Brody ignored the smiling faces that emerged from the shelves. “Emma doesn’t have a Christmas tree.”
“On account of how she ordered us all not to make her one.”
He pointed hard in the direction of the back. “I was thinking I’d decorate the dogwoods and magnolias outside her bedroom window.”
The woman’s look changed. “Do you know, that’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.”
“Can you tell me where I’d be able to buy some lights?”
“Three days before Christmas? Hmph. New York, maybe. Or Hong Kong. Not anyplace around here, that’s for sure.”
“What about ornaments, or something—”
“Hang on now, let me think.” She inspected him a moment longer, then reached for her phone and tapped in a number, all without taking her eyes off Brody.
“Hon, whatcha doing? Well, just record the game and come over here. I need … Okay, here’s a news flash.
Your shouting at the television ain’t gonna make any difference to whether Carolina wins the bowl game. Hurry, now, this is important.”
When she cut the connection, Brodie started, “Thank you so—”
“Hush now, I’m still in thinking mode.”
An elderly gentleman stepped from the rear stacks and said, “Paster Long might be able to help.”
“George, I believe I just saw that mental bulb of yours give off a dim glow.”
He grinned and resumed searching the shelves. “These days that takes some doing.”
“Reames, you know where the Community Church is at?”
“Sure. And it’s Brody.”
“I’m Marilee Baker.” She was already tapping in another number. “Why don’t you head on over and ask for Jonathan Long? If he can’t help you, he’ll know who can.”