Chapter 9: Anthony's Night

Anthony's POV

The lawyer put the calendar on my desk and tapped the red circle.

"Nineteen days," he said.

It was a quarter to nine at night, and my office on the fortieth floor had gone dark except for the desk lamp.

"I can count," I said.

"Can you?" He sat back. "Rowan's people have been through her bank records.

"They're looking for one gift, one loan, one dinner somebody else paid for."

"She's paid me rent every night."

"I know. I've seen the envelopes." He almost smiled. "That drawer is the best evidence we have."

I rubbed my eyes.

The terms were short. Gerard had written them himself, in a hand that shook.

For sixty days after his funeral, Lizzie must take nothing from her brothers and ask them for nothing.

If she did, the trust passed to them. If she didn't, it passed to her.

He had made me the trustee.

"One more thing," the lawyer said. "The box of postcards. Rowan's counsel will say Tobias gave it to her."

"Those were her mother's. They were hers before he touched them."

"A judge may agree. A judge may not."

"Then we'll make him."

He packed his briefcase. At the door he stopped.

"You haven't told her."

"I can't. If she knows what's at stake, she's no longer refusing them for herself. She's refusing them for a prize."

"That's Gerard's logic."

"It's his test. I didn't write it."

"No," he said. "But you sleep down the hall from it."

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