Reluctant Partners

Chapter Four

Allie finally got the boat squared away. Mickey had come over after hours and banged around on the engine for a while. When he was done, it didn’t appear anything had changed. If anything, there were more wires added to the spaghetti bowl. But the scruffy mechanic swore Allie wouldn’t have any more electrical shorts.

What were the chances of that being true?

After making a careful notation in the ledger book, she’d used Cooper’s money to pay off Dino and buy groceries for the next day’s excursions.

She was grateful for the cash, and she would repay him as soon as she had access to the money from today’s charter. But she’d probably been a fool to make a side deal with Cooper Remington. She had her doubts he’d do all the post-cruise work tomorrow while she took the evening off. Would he even know what to do?

Though she had to get up early tomorrow-she was meeting Arlen at the crack of dawn-she was too restless to go to bed, so she locked up the boat and headed for Old Salt’s. Johnny used to hang out there a lot, before he quit drinking. It was a friendly bar favored by the locals, and she imagined she would see a few familiar faces there.

If she lost the Dragonfly, at least she would still have her friends. No one could take them away from her.

“Hey, Allie!” The enthusiastic greeting came from Jimmy Pye, who captained the Sallie Ann. They often referred business back and forth. “Heard you found the snapper today.”

“We pulled in a few,” she said with a grin, slapping the crusty sailor on the back as she passed his table, where he was tipping some beers with his crew.

“How’s it goin’, Allie?” another sailor asked. He was a skinny man she knew only as Paco who had crewed for several different boats over the years.

She couldn’t honestly answer that things were going great, but she had no intention of airing her problems in a public place. “Things are goin’,” she said noncommittally.

Several others greeted her with a friendly wave or a nod. They were a close-knit group, the sailors and boat owners of Port Clara. By now, news of the injunction had spread, but no one mentioned it. They knew she would talk about it if she wanted to.

She slid onto a bar stool and was surprised to see her friend Sara behind the bar, mixing drinks.

“Hey, que pasa, chica?” Sara grinned, her huge chandelier earrings forming a glittering halo. Sara was a spot of sunshine wherever she went. She liked to wear Mexican cotton shirts embroidered with bright colors, and swirly skirts that often clashed. Today she’d twisted her long, brown hair into a careless knot on top of her head, stuck through with a pencil.

“When did you come back?” Allie asked as her friend poured her a Corona draft without asking. “I thought you’d be gone at least a couple more weeks.”

Sara shrugged as she set the frosty mug in front of Allie along with a bowl of lime wedges. “Got tired of L.A. Too expensive, too plastic…and the art-house movie I was supposed to work on turned out to be more porn than art. Like they really needed a set designer? I told ’em to buy a king-size bed and some gauze, and I walked.”

That was Sara. Easy come, easy go.

“Anyway, I got a little homesick,” she admitted.

“You? Homesick?”

“Well, okay, I heard three very good-looking, rich and highly eligible bachelors were staying at the B and B, and my curiosity got the better of me.”

Allie squeezed some lime juice into her beer. “So you heard.”

Sara frowned. “Yeah. Miss Greer called me. Actually, I think she was just looking for an excuse to check up on me. Sounds like you got some real trouble on your hands, doll. What’s the scoop?”

“Ugh. I’ll fill you in sometime, but not tonight. Tonight I just want to forget those Remington cousins exist.”

“Then you came to the wrong place.” Sara’s gaze slid to the left, and Allie suppressed a gasp. There they were, at a table not twenty feet away. They each had a bottle of some fancy designer beer, and they had their heads together, poring over a bunch of papers.

“I’ll have to agree with Miss Greer,” Sara said. “Those Remington boys are a nice-looking lot-especially the one with the glasses. He’s cute.”

Allie frowned and squinted at them. “You think so?” Cooper was the one whose looks made her mouth go dry.

“Mmm-mmm. Don’t you want to go and just muss up that neatly combed hair?”

“Sara. Don’t forget, those guys are trying to take away my boat. I can’t afford to let up my guard for one minute, and that means no hair mussing.”

Sara cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know, hon, but I think you could do better making friends, rather than seeing them as the enemy.”

“You go make friends, then,” Allie huffed. “Find out what they’re talking about.”

“I think maybe I will.” Sara moved to the adjacent side of the square bar area, near the Remingtons’ table, while Allie nursed her beer and angled her body away from the men. The bar was pretty crowded, so they probably wouldn’t see her.

A reporter from the Port Clara Clarion stopped by to chat, casually milking Allie for information about the Dragonfly’s disputed ownership, but Allie gave the woman as little as possible. She kept watch on the Remingtons from the corner of her eye.

At least, she thought she’d kept watch. But when a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, she nearly came off her bar stool.

“Allie!” Cooper said in a jovial greeting, as if they were old friends. “Why don’t you join us at our table? I’ll buy you a drink.”

His hands on her, so casually, should have been repugnant. But to her utter disgust, she found his touch sparked something deep inside her, something female responding to his masculinity.

“I don’t think so,” she said coolly.

“Aw, come on.” He released her and slid onto the bar stool next to her. “We had a great time today. Don’t let our legal dispute color everything black.”

She gave him her most penetrating stare. “You call it a legal dispute. I call it you trying to take away my livelihood.”

The easy smile fled his face. She wished he wasn’t so darn good-looking. It would be easier to hold on to her righteous indignation if he didn’t tickle her hormones.

“I did offer you a cash settlement,” he reminded her. “But you wouldn’t even listen. Litigation is expensive.”

She’d been wondering if she was crazy not to at least listen to his offer. If it was generous enough, she could start over, maybe buy an interest in another boat.

She could even compete with the Remingtons.

But selling out didn’t sit well with her. Johnny had trusted her to take care of his boat and his business after he was gone. He’d obviously not been on good terms with his family, and he wouldn’t want them to have the Dragonfly or Remington Charters.

“I know litigation is expensive.”

He raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. “Oh? You’ve been sued before, perhaps? Are property disputes a pattern with you?”

“I’m not some black widow preying on old men, if that’s what you think. But I have had dealings with lawyers.”

Allie’s father had died when she was sixteen. He’d been a charter fisherman, too-friends with Johnny, in fact. He’d left everything to Allie in his will, but her attorney-uncle was the executor of the estate until she reached majority. Within eighteen months he’d bankrupted the business. She’d tried to get legal help when she realized what was happening, but no lawyer would take her case because she didn’t have any money.

She didn’t, however, think her past legal problems were any of Cooper’s business. He would use any little tidbit he picked up from her to defeat her. He would twist her words until she came out sounding like an opportunist who went around inheriting boats as a hobby.

“We’re not all jerks,” Cooper pointed out.

“Prove it.”

“It’s not as if the boat means nothing to me.” He tried again. “I spent summers with Uncle Johnny when I was younger-Reece and Max, too. They’re the happiest memories we have. Is it wrong for us to want to reclaim those happy times? Especially when I know Johnny always intended for us to inherit his boat someday. He used to tell us that all the time.”

Oh, he was good. She’d give him that. If a jury heard their case-and knowing what she so far knew of Cooper, he would demand a jury hearing-they would be whipping out their handkerchiefs before he was through with them.

“Maybe once upon a time he did intend to leave you the boat. But that was before you went years without visiting, without calling. Before you left him to die here alone, with only his employee by his bedside.”

“His employee?” Another raised eyebrow.

“His employee and his dear friend, and nothing more.”

“You lived together on the boat. Am I supposed to believe-”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to believe. You’ve clearly been asking around, but you won’t find a single person in this town who will claim Johnny and I were romantically involved. Not anyone who knew us, anyway.”

He shrugged. “Pity for you. If you could claim status as his common-law wife, your chances in court would go up.”

She slapped some money on the bar, gave him one more hard look, and left. She wasn’t going to dignify his observation with a response.

She didn’t need to resort to legal tricks. The law was on her side.

“SHOT YOU DOWN, DID SHE?” Max said as Cooper reclaimed his chair at their table. Even with a black eye, Max was still a chick magnet. He’d made up some ridiculous story about fighting off a mugger, and he’d already secured dates with two different women.

Cooper gathered up the papers they’d been working on, just some brainstorming on ways to market the charter service once ownership was established. “Allie’s a tough cookie. Says she’s dealt with lawyers before. I’ll put Mark Gold to work finding out exactly what sort of litigation she’s been involved in.”

He caught Reece and Max sharing a look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Reece said, draining the last of his Coke.

“You guys think I’m going too far?”

“Duh.” Max threw a few bills on the table for their waitress. “Why don’t we just let the judge sort it out? If Uncle Johnny really wanted to give his girlfriend a boat, who are we to say no?”

“She wasn’t his girlfriend.” Cooper was surprised at how quickly he argued that point. But he did believe Allie about that one thing. No one in town had supported his theory that Allie and Johnny were lovers.

Max shrugged. “Whatever.”

Why didn’t his cousins get it? Maybe not every woman was out to fleece the male population, but he’d seen enough of the world to know that you should never trust one without proof she was honest.

Even his own mother made no bones about the fact that she’d married his father more for security than love, though the marriage must have worked on some level, because they were still together and seemed happy, at least outwardly.

“Women in my day didn’t have the choices available to men,” she’d explained. “I had to marry wealth. I grew up with it, and I wasn’t keen to give it up. Fortunately your father was willing to keep me in the manner to which I’d become accustomed.”

Cooper had never been sure if she was joking or not.

If Johnny’s honest intention was to renege on his promise to his nephews and cut them out of his will, Cooper was willing to honor his uncle’s wishes. But he considered it his responsibility to be absolutely sure they weren’t all being hoodwinked.

ARLEN CALDWELL WAS CLOSE to eighty years old, but his mind was as sharp as any twenty-year-old’s. Unfortunately his eyes weren’t; he inspected his photocopy of Johnny’s will with a magnifying glass.

He and Allie were seated in his office, which was small and unassuming. The carpeting had a worn track where the attorney no doubt paced as he worked out exactly how he would help his clients to prevail. His leather desk chair was scuffed at the corners, and he still used a wooden file cabinet.

But everything was neat and scrupulously clean, thanks to his longtime secretary, Janice, who didn’t mind running a dust cloth over the furniture now and then.

Arlen was a good lawyer, and his age was actually a point in his favor. Sometimes opposing attorneys underestimated him, falling for his doddering-old-fool act.

“It’s all just as I remember it,” he said after ten minutes of close scrutiny. “It’s entirely proper. So long as the date on this will supersedes the other, and no one can prove Johnny was coerced or incompetent, this will stands.”

Allie wasn’t entirely relieved. “Coerced or incompetent” left a lot of wiggle room.

“’Course, we’ll want a sworn statement from Jane Simone that she did witness Johnny signing the will and that he wasn’t drunk or crazy. Is she from around here?”

“She lives in Houston, but I’m sure she won’t mind making a statement. She’s a good friend. She would even come down here and testify in person, I’m sure. She just needs to know when so she can make arrangements for childcare and such.”

Jane had an adorable little girl named Kaylee. Her husband couldn’t be counted on to baby-sit-he was a workaholic. Sometimes she wondered why he’d bought the beautiful cabin cruiser, because he seldom sailed it. Jane usually came down just with Kaylee.

“Johnny wasn’t back on the bottle, was he?” Arlen asked.

“No, sir, absolutely not. I hadn’t seen him drink a drop this century.”

“What about the cancer drugs? The pain meds? Did they make him groggy or loopy?”

“Some. But he didn’t like that, so he usually only took one pain pill right before bed so he could sleep. I can assure you he was awake and alert the day he wrote his will, and Jane will back me up.”

“I have to ask you this, Allie, but whose idea was it that he write a new will?”

“It was his,” she answered without hesitation. “I’d put a lot of my own money into upkeep of the Dragonfly, and he was worried that I’d lose everything when he died. He wanted to protect me. He said he was estranged from his family and they didn’t care anything about an old boat.”

“Oh. You have financial records, I hope.”

“Absolutely. I make detailed notes about every transaction having to do with the business. I brought copies.” She placed the manila envelope she’d brought with her on his desk.

He patted her hand in a grandfatherly gesture. “Don’t you worry. We’ll send those Yankees back to New York with their tails between their legs.”

“I hope you’re right.” She stood up. “How much do you reckon this will cost me?”

“Well, let’s see…court fees, photocopies, parking-a hundred dollars, give or take.”

“What about your fee?”

“This one’s on me, kiddo. Johnny would haunt me from the grave if I let those big-city boys push you around.”

ALLIE FELT A LITTLE BETTER about things, until she returned to the Dragonfly and found Cooper standing on the dock with Pete Dodson, inspecting the boat’s hull. Now what was he doing hanging around with that scalawag?

“Oh, good morning, Allie,” Cooper said when he saw her approaching. “Where’ve you been so bright and early?”

“Seeing my lawyer,” she said pointedly.

“Hey, Allie,” Pete said. “Your new partner here’s hired me to do some paintin’. ’Bout time, too. The old girl is lookin’ pretty shabby.”

“Oh, really?” She stared daggers at Cooper. “Mr. Remington, might I have a word with you in private?” She turned without waiting for his agreement, unlocked the hatch, and went below.

Cooper followed, looking bewildered. “Something wrong?”

She poured herself some cold coffee and stuck it in the microwave. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Number one, there’s no money in the budget for painting. Number two, if there was money, we would do it in the winter, not right when the tourist season is upon us. Number three, if it was winter, and if we had money in the budget to paint, we would not hire Pete.”

“What’s wrong with Pete? He says he’ll give us the best price.”

“He’ll give us a quote, and then he’ll nickel-and-dime us to death, or he’ll walk off and leave the job half done because someone else has offered him a more lucrative job. Plus, he’s the slowest painter in all of Texas.”

“Well, hell, Allie. I thought I was doing a good thing. The boys and I were brainstorming ways to bring in more customers and charge them more. Anyway, I was just talking to Pete. I haven’t actually hired him. I was going to talk to several boat painters. And I was going to pay for it.”

“And when the judge awards me ownership of this boat, how would I pay you back?”

Cooper shrugged. “Guess I’d take you to court and file a lien on the boat till you paid-come on, Allie,” he said when she shrieked, “I’m not serious. I wouldn’t ask for the money back.”

“I’m supposed to trust you on this? If our positions were reversed, would you trust me?”

Ah. She could see she had him there. He looked slightly guilty, but only for a moment. “Just how bad are the Remington Charters finances?”

“Bad enough. I didn’t run any trips those last few weeks. After Johnny died…” she was embarrassed that her voice cracked “…it took a while for me to start booking charters again, and I’m still not up to speed, though business is picking up. I’ve been living hand-to-mouth, juggling the bills, paying only the most urgent.”

His mouth thinned to a tight crease. “Can we look at the books? Reece is a CPA. Maybe he can help.”

“I’ve given my lawyer copies of everything pertinent, and I’m sure he’ll send you copies.”

“Everything pertinent?”

“Well, not every single page of the ledger, but receipts and copies of bills and what-not.”

“Reece will want to see it all.”

“The only thing that will help the finances is lots of paying customers-which we should have in the normal course of business. I expect I’ll get caught up in a few weeks. But you’re welcome to inspect the books-on the premises.”

“Only one problem with that. Reece gets seasick.”

“They make wonderful medicine for that these days.” She took a long sip of her cold coffee. Blech. “We better go give the bad news to Pete that we aren’t hiring him.”

She could tell Cooper didn’t like it that she’d made the decision. But hers was the name on the Dragonfly’s title.

At least for a while longer.