“My mother did not lie.”
“I didn’t say she did, Mr. Ramsden. I asked if it was possible that certain aspects of the Eaton deal took on more significance for her than others?”
He stared straight at her. And there was anger in his eyes.
“Please answer the question.”
“It’s possible.”
“That said, it’s also possible that she misinterpreted the other things she relayed about this particular business transaction. Perhaps even to use it as leverage to bring you home.”
“No.”
“Did you know, Mr. Ramsden, that a letter was sent from Eaton James to all the Eaton Estates investors, telling them of their loss?”
“Yes, it arrived a couple of days after my mother called to ask me to visit the property.”
“It was postmarked two days before.”
“It arrived two days after.”
“Or not.” Juliet stepped back. “It’s possible, Mr. Ramsden, that your mother already knew the land was worthless when she called to have you check it out, isn’t it?”
“It’s highly unlikely.”
“But possible.”
His chin dropped again, more slowly this time. And then rose again. “Yes.”
Juliet turned, as though going back to her seat. And then, three-quarters of the way there, she turned back.
“One other thing.” She saved lives by playing the barracuda. And right now, the future of an admittedly stupid but innocent businessman was on the line. “Your father died of a heart attack the next year, did he not?”
“He did.”
“He was driving at the time.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother was in the car.”
“Yes.”
“You lost them both. I’m so sorry.” She looked down. Thought about Eaton’s wife—and teenage children—sitting behind them. The lives she was attempting to save.
Blake said nothing.
“Did you realize your mother knew about your father’s bad heart?”
“Not until I got home.”
“But she knew. Had known for almost two years.”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t you think that knowing her husband could go at any moment might be motivation enough to do whatever it took to get her only son home?”
She’d done what she’d been hired to do. She’d discredited his testimony. And lost his respect.
For the first time in her life, Juliet hated her job.
“No more questions, Your Honor.”
CHAPTER FIVE
JULIET MCNEIL HUNG around for a long time. Schuster had gone. The press had gone. Even Eaton James and his family had ridden down the elevator to the first floor of the California Superior Court. Still, though he had no real logical reason for doing so, Blake stood there at the bank of elevators and waited.
He was done here. Unless called for further testimony, he’d been dismissed and wouldn’t be back. He’d lived in the same town with Juliet McNeil for five years and found no reason to be in touch with her. Had had nothing to say to her.
Voices came from down the hall. Male. And one very distinctive female. The men came around the corner from the courtroom. Nodded at Blake, pushed the down button. Juliet must have stopped off in the women’s room at the juncture of the two hallways.
An elevator came. The two men, apparently attorneys on Juliet’s staff, held the door, looking at him. Blake shook his head. And they were gone.
It was better this way, with no one around. Just a quick acknowledgment, for old times’ sake. Something he might not have bothered with if not for the funeral he’d attended over the weekend—and all the memories aroused by the past week.
Hearing the swish of a door, Blake stood upright, hands in the pockets of his gray slacks, facing the hall. Her head pulled back a bit when she saw him, but her step didn’t falter. She had to be the most confident woman he’d ever met.
That confidence had attracted Blake nine years ago. And attracted him now.
“I thought you’d be long gone.” That was another thing he remembered quite clearly about that foggy night so long ago. The woman had a habit of saying what was on her mind rather than couching her thoughts in platitudes. Disconcerting.
And yet, delightfully refreshing in that he’d known where he stood with her. There’d been no game playing. No social dishonesty.
“I never had the chance to say hello.” He pushed the down button. “And didn’t want to go without at least saying goodbye.”
“Oh.” Her hair was still long—the gold-streaked auburn color striking—and curled past her shoulders. “Well, I wish it could have been under different circumstances, but it was nice seeing you,” she said. She didn’t avoid looking at him, but gave equal attention to the lighted bar atop the elevator, indicating the car’s current floor.
“You look good.”
“You, too.” Except that she wasn’t really looking. And then she did. “I watched your office building go up. Impressive. You’re doing very well.”
Blake nodded. “I had good teachers.” Including his father, the man he’d spoken of so harshly that night just before he’d left the country. Was that what this was about? A need to correct any misconceptions? He’d been a kid then. Too concerned with his own rights and far too insensitive to those of others.
“I’m…uh…sorry.” She tilted her head in the direction of the courtroom from which they’d come. “For back there.”
“We were on opposite sides of the fence,” he told her—as though neither of them could have expected anything different.
The elevator came. Blake held open the door while she stepped inside, then joined her. Standing against the side wall, her briefcase held with both hands down in front, she’d already pushed the first-floor button.
“Still,” she said, glancing over at him, “I wouldn’t blame you if there were some hard feelings.”
“Oh, there are definitely those,” he admitted, thinking of James. “Just not directed at you.”
The quick tilt of her chin, more even than the light in her eyes, gave away her surprise. “Well, thank you.” She smiled.
And he knew he wasn’t done yet.
“How would you feel about getting a bite to eat?”
The elevator stopped and she got out, frowning. “Tonight?”
“Doesn’t have to be.” He followed her over to a decorative column off to the side of the building’s entryway and leaned against it.
“I…”
Blake could sense a refusal coming. “Or just a drink sometime,” he offered. “For old times’ sake.”
“You’ve been home five years. Old times have