I’d only met Harry Brighton once when I’d met with him to discuss the surprise inheritance Trace had left me. His office hadn’t changed much over the years. The furniture and décor were outdated and worn and the reception area consisted of one small desk with the same old receptionist sitting behind it, her silver hair twisted around the top of her head in a sloppy bun with a couple of pencils shoved through it to hold it in place. She was looking over the top of her glasses at an ancient looking computer screen that took up about half her desk and there were papers strewn everywhere. There was no one in the waiting area but theTV in the corner of the room was tuned to a talk show of some kind.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked without looking up at me.
“Is Mr. Brighton available?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said before finally straightening her glasses and looking up at me. “Mr. Grisham, how nice to see you again.”
I couldn’t help but be surprised that she remembered me, considering I’d only been there the one time nearly six years ago. Since I couldn’t recall her name, I merely nodded.
“Dolores! I need the Conway file!” I heard a high pitched voice yell and then there was the click-click of heels. A woman rounded the corner from the back of the building where I knew the offices were and stopped when she saw me. Her frown disappeared and she straightened her elegant suit. She was quite attractive and put together and I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t quite match the laid back atmosphere of the office.
“Tabby, this is Mr. Ronan Grisham,” Dolores said with a wave of her hand. “He’s a friend of the Nichols family.”
The woman stiffened and then smoothed her jacket again before jutting out her hand. “Tabitha Brighton,” she said formally, her high-pitched voice now low and clear and much less screechy.
“Tabby is Harry’s daughter, Mr. Grisham,” Dolores said as she began clicking away at her keyboard again.
“It’s Tabitha,” the woman said crisply, though I wasn’t sure if she was telling me or Dolores that. “How can I help you, Mr. Grisham?”
“I was hoping to speak with your father.”
Tabitha’s face fell but she recovered quickly. “I’m afraid my father has retired. Are you looking for someone to assist you with your inheritance?”
The question caught me off guard and she must have sensed my surprise because she said, “I’ve taken over the majority of my father’s clients. I remember seeing your file a few weeks ago as I was trying to familiarize myself with his cases. I noticed we didn’t have an attorney listed for you…”
The not so subtle query irritated me, though I couldn’t really explain why. Maybe because the woman seemed so much like the stereotypical attorney whereas I’d found her father to be much more relaxed and laid back when I’d worked with him so many years ago. “I’m just passing through town and I wanted to say hi to your father. Is he around?”
Tabitha’s jaw hardened for a moment and then she forced a smile to her lips. “He’s retired, Mr. Grisham,” she repeated as if that was answer enough.
“Here,” Dolores said as she handed me a piece of paper. “He’s at Sunny Oaks – two streets over and down a few blocks. I’m sure he’d love the company,” the old woman said as she shot Tabitha a stern look. Tabitha didn’t look pleased and turned on her heel and stalked back in the direction she’d come from.
“Thanks,” I said as I waved the paper at Dolores.
“He likes the fries from the diner down the street,” Dolores said in response. “Mayonnaise, not ketchup,” she added.
I chuckled at the subtle order. “Yes, ma’am.”
It took about twenty minutes to get the fries from the diner and find the assisted living community. The receptionist pointed me in the direction of a common room where there were a few senior citizens milling around playing cards or watching TV. I recognized Harry almost instantly because of his hair. It was almost all white except for a thick patch of black hair above his forehead. I had no idea if he dyed it that way on purpose but it looked almost exactly like it had six years ago.
“Mr. Brighton,” I said as I stopped next to the table where he was playing a game of Solitaire. His eyes lit on the white paper bag in my hand before lifting up. Like Dolores, he recognized me instantly.
“Mr. Grisham,” he said with a nod. “I see you stopped by the office,” he said with a nod towards the bag in my hand.
I laughed and handed him the bag and then took the seat across from him when he invited me to do so.
“How is Seth?” Harry asked the second I sat.
“I was going to ask you that,” I admitted. “I’ve been away for abit and just got back to the city yesterday,” I hedged, not wanting to explain to this man the details of why I’d stayed away.
Harry began rifling around the bag for a fry and the small to-go container of mayonnaise I’d been given. “I’m sorry to say, I haven’t been able to get up to see him as much as I’d like,” he said. “Tabby doesn’t have time to drive me up to Whidbey Island and cabs are terribly expensive.”
“He doesn’t come down to see you?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Harry said as he began chewing on the fry. “Well, you know how tough it is for him to leave the house.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that so I said, “It is a long drive.”
Harry stopped chewing for a moment and studied me. While his body might have aged, his brain certainly hadn’t and I could see him putting the pieces together. His friendliness faded away and suspicion clouded his gaze as he pushed the bag away. “What can I do for you, Mr. Grisham?”
