He paused. “You’re not welcoming him with open arms?”
“Things are in a difficult place, Clinton. I don’t trust him.”
“Are you safe?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Olivia.” His voice escalated. “You need to spend the night with one of your church friends.”
She hated having to flee her own house, but Clinton was right. She shouldn’t stay alone in this place that had once been a refuge, at least not before she changed the locks. Until then, she’d ask Jillian and Garrett if she could borrow their sofa.
“Are you still there?”
She glanced toward the front window. “Simon is trying to take my house and who knows what else. With the increase in my royalty income...”
“Please tell me you have a will,” Clinton said. “And it doesn’t name him as beneficiary.”
“I have a will, but it hasn’t been updated since Graham passed away.”
He groaned. “Do you have any other living relatives?”
“No.” And Simon knew that Hattie was the last of her family.
“Then Pennsylvania law would award him everything.”
She mirrored his groan. “I’m becoming more valuable to him dead than alive.”
“You need an attorney.”
The only lawyer she knew was a shark. “I hope you have a recommendation.”
Clinton gave her the name of a man in Philadelphia. “Tell him you want to create an irrevocable literary trust. As long as Simon’s not the beneficiary—”
“He won’t be.”
“Then he can’t touch your money.”
“Thank you, Clinton. You’ve been a friend and the best of publishers.”
“Leave your house right now,” he ordered. “And don’t look back until Simon is long gone.”
But she placed a call to the attorney’s office first, wanting her intentions to be clear. If anything happened to her, she explained, she wantedClinton Herring to oversee her trust with a portion set aside for the education of Elijah Lamb. Once Elijah turned twenty-five, he would have the option of managing her literary and personal estate. If her income continued to grow, she wanted him to use it for good.
After she explained her urgency, the attorney agreed to draft her documents tomorrow. Hopefully, she would continue writing for years to come, but if something happened to her, Elijah would be provided for and her books would continue being published through Herring & Son.
Jillian told her to come straight over. Instead of sleeping on the sofa, Olivia could share a room with the two girls.
She didn’t need much tonight. Just a change of clothes, pajamas, and some basic toiletries. Olivia tossed it all into a satchel and drove away from Haven House.
If she’d waited a few more minutes, she would have seen a worn Chevrolet coupe rumble up her lane. Heard the ring of a young woman and two children at her door.
If she’d waited a bit longer, she might have remembered the manuscript she left behind on her desk.
34:Isadore
Izzy parked her car near the creek so no one would ask questions about Olivia’s guests, and with a diaper satchel strung over her shoulder, she carried both children up the hill. Once Jimmy and Greta were asleep, she’d return for the remaining boxes and suitcase that her mom helped pack.
As they rang the doorbell, Greta sank her head into Izzy’s shoulder, still dazed by yesterday’s encounter. For the entire eight-hour drive, she had clung to her bag of treasure like it could ward away the evil men.
