portrait of fatherly concern. It made Arnie nervous as fuck.
Confused, unsure, and a lot freaked out, he took a sip, found the drink mixed perfectly, and guzzled the rest. He was biting into his second olive when a knock sounded at the door.
Stan and their father exchanged a look. A sign they’d agreed on what role each would play in the unfolding scene. The thought did not make him any calmer.
Taking an oddly protective stance at Arnie’s shoulder, Stan grunted to signal it was okay to answer the door.
Swallowing the bitter-tasting anxiety, he watched his father admit Giselle’s former attorney. They didn’t shake hands—a power play to let the legal guy know who was in charge.
In the middle of the room, they stopped to confer quietly. Bruce Wells was carrying a briefcase. He lofted it like evidence and murmured to Arnie’s dad.
Licking his lips in a vain attempt to bring moisture to his mouth, Arnie felt and heard his heart thumping.
“Arnie?”
His eyes swept up to find his father leaning close.
“Mr. Wells has a story to tell. I want you to promise me your ass will remain planted in that chair no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”
“No,” he grumbled. “Dad?”
“Son, let me do this my way. I want your word that you will not get out of the chair.”
He glared at Bruce Wells. The guy was practically sweating a waterfall.
Nodding his promise, he gripped the arms of his seat and hoped he survived the freight train barreling toward him.
His father sat, but the lawyer remained standing. He wondered if it was to give him a better chance of escaping if Arnie leaped up and tried to kill him.
A chilly calmness grabbed hold. He raised his scowling gaze to the lawyer and ordered him to begin.
Pulling a wing chair closer, Wells put his briefcase on the seat and opened it. Stan cleared his throat. Every sound and action left a brand on Arnie’s brain.
“Last year during the family retreat in Santa Barbara, Mrs. Giselle Wanamaker, ex-wife of Ned Wanamaker,” he said in a lawyerly voice with a nod at Arnie’s dad, “mother to Stanford and stepmother to Darnell, became aware of information she felt could be used to her advantage.”
A deadly stillness seized him upon hearing the words, Santa Barbara. Nuclear rage sparked to life in his thoughts. Without knowing what she’d done, Arnie was sure he was going to murder his former stepmother. It was the only explanation for his dad’s and Stan’s behavior.
“I want to be clear from the outset that yes, I knew what she was doing.” He handed a file to Stan. “At the time, her actions were predictable and benign. She was always looking for the upper hand. It was her way of life.”
“Dad,” Stan muttered. “You better take a look at this.”
Incapable of movement or speech, Arnie never stopped staring at the lawyer.
“Until then, Giselle was a one-trick show dog. She manipulated Mr. Stanford’s ex-wife as a way of keeping control of everything. When she got bored,” Wells sneered in a disgusted tone, “she stirred other pots.”
He looked at Arnie’s dad. “She knows about your girlfriend. I think finding out about your, um, relationship with Ms. Welcher was the straw.”
Thank god his dad was forthcoming with a speedy explanation, short as it was.
“Dr. Tanya Welcher.” He drawled with great emphasis on her title. “She’s a botanist. Teaches at the university. We’re living together.”
Stan mumbled. “No wonder Mom lost her shit.”
“It’s not for me to surveil what you people are up to. I’m only telling you what she knew and adding context for relevancy. Until your living arrangements changed, she’d been content to play cat and mouse with her information. When her tactics took a dark turn, and it looked like she was veering into the legal dead zone, I stepped back.”
“Okay,” Stan muttered. “We get it, Bruce. You’re a victim, too.”
“She’s dangerous,” Wells assured them. “All animals turn dangerous when they’re cornered. With Mr. Stanford cutting the cord and Mr. Ned choosing a life she couldn’t manipulate, she turned to what she imagined was her last hope.”
The lawyer’s eyes held Arnie’s. “I told her you were the last person on earth she should mess with, but she was too manic to listen.”
He found his voice. “What did she do?”
Wells nervously cleared his throat and fidgeted. He touched the knot of his tie and glanced at Stan before saying, “I’m invoking whistleblower protection. Don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”