“I’m so very, very sorry.”
The sunlight showed deep in her gaze. Gold flecks, green diamonds, watching. She asked, “Who are you calling?”
“Her name is Lorna Chase. She’s served as my attorney since before I started my company . . .”
She waited with him, then pressed, “Why does that make you sad?”
“She was a friend. I haven’t contacted her since it all went south.”
Jenna seemed able to read the invisible script. “She handled your divorce?”
“She did, yes.”
“And the sale of your company.” It was not a question.
“The theft,” he corrected. “That too.”
“If this lady is truly your friend, she will understand why you haven’t been in touch.” Jenna pointed at his phone. “Make the call.”
* * *
Lorna’s secretary kept him waiting only a few minutes. When his former attorney came on the line, she greeted him with, “I was hoping you’d call. Not turn into another of those ghosts of failed clients that litter my bad nights.”
“You didn’t fail at anything,” Noah replied. The phone was set on the rickety porch table, with their chairs to either side. “Not with me. And I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
Lorna Chase had always reminded Noah of a strict schoolteacher. The precise diction, the kindly no-nonsense way of dealing with clients, the sharply intelligent manner used to cutting egos down to size. Lorna had negotiated the freelance contract with a small indie producer that had served as the springboard for Noah going out on his own. She had handled the sale of his company and his divorce. And taken both personally. “No apologies necessary. How are you, Noah?”
He resisted the urge to check Jenna’s expression for the right answer. “Adjusting. Healing. Slowly.”
“I’m glad. You deserved far better than I was able to get for you.”
“You did ten times better than anyone else, a hundred times better than I feared.”
“Yes. Well. Nice of you to say.”
“I’m here with Jenna Greaves. She and I are partners on a boat project.”
“Are you really. How is that going?”
This time, Noah looked over. Jenna kept her gaze on the phone and gave him nothing more than her standard calm. “I’m learning a lot. Mostly about myself. Making mistakes along the way. Trying to grow from them. Correct what I can.”
“Sounds like a healing is in the works.”
“I hope so. Look, I’m calling because an LA lawyer is interested in buying our boat. I was hoping you could give us a handle on him.”
“You do realize LA has more lawyers than wannabe starlets.”
“He claims to have come across my work, representing unnamed clients. Which means he’s been involved at least peripherally in the film world.”
“Okay, that narrows things. What’s his name?”
“Lane Pritchard.”
Silence.
“Hello?”
Lorna’s voice dropped a full octave. “Lane Pritchard wants to buy your boat.”
