Chapter 10 #2
Kara went into the dressing room and emerged a few minutes later with the dress on a hanger.
Tiffany rang up the sale. “Going out with anyone I know?”
“Maybe… Dan Torrington?”
“Oh, I love Dan! He did a great job with my divorce, and I have so much admiration for his career.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t know about him?”
“Not too much beyond the fact that he’s an LA lawyer with a healthy ego and a handsome face.”
“He is rather handsome, isn’t he?”
“Rather.”
“Girlfriend, you need to spend some time with Google.” Tiffany spun her computer monitor around and pushed the keyboard across the counter. “Have a look.”
Kara seemed uncertain for a moment, before she took the bait and typed Dan’s name into the browser. Watching her reaction as she read through the results that highlighted Dan’s successful career in freeing unjustly incarcerated people made Tiffany smile.
“He never said anything,” Kara stammered. “He never said.”
“Ought to make for one heck of a book, huh?”
“Yes, I’d imagine so. Wow. I thought I had him all figured out, you know?”
“That’s a man for you—just when you think you know him,” Tiffany said with a grin as she handed Kara the bag containing her purchases. “I’ll see you at the opening.”
“Thanks so much for your help.”
“My pleasure.”
“That ought to be an interesting conversation,” Tiffany said to Patty after Kara left.
“I can’t believe she’d never heard of him,” Patty said. “Even I know who he is.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that date.”
“No kidding!” Patty smiled wistfully. “She’s so pretty and so lucky to have a date with such a hot guy.”
“You’ll get your turn. I have no doubt.”
“I sure hope you’re right.”
On the way out of the gym after a rigorous workout, Blaine stopped to talk to the owner, Billy Weyland, for a few minutes.
“Heard you arrested Truck Henry last night,” Billy said. “Some people never learn.”
Not wanting to say too much, Blaine nodded in agreement.
The arrest was public record, so there was no sense denying it.
A reporter from the Gansett Gazette had stopped into the station with questions first thing that morning.
Blaine had managed to keep Daisy’s name out of the report, but everyone knew who Truck had been shacked up with for a while now.
“Is Daisy okay?”
“She will be.”
“If you see her, tell her I was asking for her. She’s a sweet girl who deserves better than the likes of Truck.”
“On that we agree.”
“I heard he’s retained Jim Sturgil to represent him.”
Didn’t that figure? “Is that so?”
Billy nodded. “People were talking about it earlier. They were saying how Sturgil would represent the guy who beat up his own mother if there was money in it for him.”
Blaine choked back a laugh at that accurate assessment. “Probably so. Gotta run. Take it easy, Billy.”
“You, too.”
Even though he was off duty, Blaine took the long way home, making a check on “his” island.
Anything that happened there was his responsibility, and he never forgot that.
He’d arranged for the state police to come over to escort Truck to the mainland for arraignment.
Assuming the judge denied bail, Truck would be held at the state prison until his trial.
At least he’d be off the island for the time being, and Daisy would have a prayer of putting her life back together.
On the way to his house on the island’s north end, Blaine noticed a sign for an estate sale at the former home of Mrs. Ridgeway, one of the island’s longest standing and wealthiest citizens who had died the year before.
Since he’d always wondered what the inside of the place looked like, he decided to check it out.
He took the long, winding driveway that led to the enormous home, which overlooked the ocean.
What a spot, he thought, as he got out of the SUV and walked toward the house.
A man in a suit greeted him in the portico and handed him a brochure outlining the offerings.
“Feel free to wander through the house, and let me know if anything strikes your fancy.”
“Will do,” Blaine said, though he didn’t expect anything in the ostentatious house to necessarily “strike his fancy.” He ventured into the marble-laid foyer and through one elaborately furnished room after another, each with an exquisite view of the ocean.
The place had “rich people” stamped all over it, but it was interesting to see how the other half lived.
Upstairs, Blaine discovered a humbler living area with modest furnishings.
This was probably where the family spent most of their time.
He turned to find the man in the suit had followed him upstairs.
“Is this furniture part of the sale?” he asked, pointing to a tan chenille sofa and love seat in a family room that boasted a television and entertainment center.
The comfortable-looking pieces appeared to be in excellent condition.
“Everything is for sale.”
“How much for these sofas with the tables and lamps?”
“I could give it all to you for seven hundred.”
“That sounds reasonable.” Blaine knew he shouldn’t do this, and he’d had no intention of doing it until he came into the house and saw exactly what she needed.
They didn’t have this kind of relationship, and he had no way to gauge how a gift of this kind might be received.
But he couldn’t bear to think of her and her child rattling around in that unfurnished home if he could do something about it. Project alert!
Except, Tiffany wasn’t anything like the women who’d used him and taken advantage of his good nature in the past. If anything, she’d be angry with him for doing something like this for her.
He figured they could have a nice big fight over it, and then maybe he’d get some awesome make-up sex out of it. The thought made him burn for her.
“I’ll take it,” Blaine said, forcing images of her naked and willing out of his mind. “The area rug, too.”
“Very good,” the man said, beaming.
“Any chance you can deliver it to an address on the island?”
“That can certainly be arranged.”
“Great. Now, what do you have in the way of kitchen tables?”
“Right this way, sir.”