A short plump woman, Miss Emma Stevens had a mound of dyed red hair curled atop her head. As a boy he used to wonder how it stayed there so neatly. She frowned at him from behind thick glasses with cat’s-eye frames and rhinestones at the corners. They must have been made in the 1950s.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming in today,” she accused in her irritating high-pitched voice.
He didn’t like having to explain his actions, but remembering the manners his parents had instilled in him, he replied, “Mom’s visiting with the reverend and I thought I’d get acquainted with Dad’s files.”
“You should’ve called me.”
“It’s no big deal, Miss Emma. I only plan to stay for a little while, and I really don’t need any help.”
“How will you find anything?” She waved an impatient hand. “I have a special filing system, and I don’t like anyone messing it up.”
He forced himself to take a calming breath and wondered how his father had put up with this woman for so many years. Diplomacy, that was it. His dad knew how to handle people. He hoped he’d inherited some of his father’s tact.
He looked around at the dust and clutter. “Can you get someone to clean the office?”
“Clean?” she shrilled, her eyes darting around.
“What’s wrong with this office?”
“Everything needs to be cleaned, from the floors to the windows. The place has been closed up for weeks.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.”
Yeah, he thought, she probably had cataracts the size of doorknobs. He smiled his best smile. “Humor me, Miss Emma. Find someone.”
She hesitated, then his smile won her over. “Okay, I could get Bertha. She cleans the bank.”
“Fine, get Bertha.” His smile broadened at the small victory.
She took a step, then turned back, pointing a finger at him. “She’ll cost you. She won’t do it for free.”
His smile immediately vanished. “I didn’t expect her to,” he answered, a slight edge to his voice.
Miss Emma turned on her heel and headed for the door, muttering, “His father never had any complaints. City ways gone to his head. Nonsense, just nonsense.”
As the last word died away, Matthew grinned and sank into his father’s chair. He marveled at the comfort and the way the contours seemed to fit his body. Maybe he and his dad were more alike than he’d imagined.
Reaching for a file, he heard the door open again. Now what? Surely Miss Emma wasn’t going to argue some more.
To his surprise, a tall blond man with a veneer that bespoke money and power entered the room. John Robert William Townsend. Even though Rob, as he was called, was eleven years older than he was, Matthew knew him and his family well. The Cobers, Rob’s mother’s family, had settled Coberville in the 1800s and they stilled owned almost everything in and around the town.
Matthew got to his feet and shook Rob’s hand.
“It’s good to have you back in Coberville, Matthew.” Rob’s smile showed off his perfect white teeth and angular features. Rob Townsend was known for his charm and virility, which were apparently lethal to any and all women. At forty-nine the man still hadn’t lost those qualities.
“Thank you,” Matthew replied.
“I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good man.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said again. “Have a seat.”
Rob hiked up his tailored slacks and sat in one of the leather chairs opposite the desk. Matthew resumed his own seat, wondering what Rob Townsend had on his mind.
“How long has it been?” Rob mused. “A long time, I’d say, but I remember you as the young hero that led the Coberville Tigers to the state championship. Quite a victory for this town.”
Matthew smiled at the memory.
“I wished my parents had let me finish high school in Coberville, instead of sending me to school back East. All that togetherness and bonding sure could’ve helped me in this election.”
At Matthew’s puzzled look, Rob explained, “I’m running for Dad’s senate seat in the fall.”
Matt raised one dark eyebrow in amusement. “Are you here to ask for my support?”
Rob chuckled. “No, not really.” Then his expression grew serious. “I was glad to hear you’re staying in town, taking over your father’s cases.”
“I promised Dad I would.”
“I didn’t realize you had a Texas license or practiced anything but criminal law.”
“I got the Texas license mostly for my dad’s sake,” he said. “I hadn’t planned on practicing here this soon, but I assure you I can handle most cases.”
“How long do you plan on staying in Coberville?”
“I’m due for a long vacation. So I plan to stay as long as Mom needs me and until I get all of Dad’s cases closed. At least a month.”
“That’s good to hear. I presume you’re familiar with the case your dad was handling for the Townsend family?”
“No,” Matthew said, “can’t say that I am.” He figured this had something to do with the case his mother had mentioned last night. He wished she’d told him more.
“Then you haven’t got a clue about what’s going on around here.” The statement held an accusing tone, similar to Miss Emma’s earlier. It had the same effect on him. But Rob was a client and deserved his patience.
“No,” Matthew repeated. He picked up a pencil and, searching for a pad, came across the Townsend file. “Dad must have been working on it because the file’s right here.”
“Hmm,” Rob murmured. “Sad to say, your dad didn’t give it a lot of attention.”
“Oh?”
“He was dragging his heels so long I was thinking of hiring an attorney from Austin.”
“Doesn’t sound like Dad. He always believed in taking care of business.”
“My mother had a lot of faith in him, but I guess he just wasn’t feeling up to par.”
“Maybe,” Matthew admitted reluctantly, knowing his dad would never let a client down. He touched the thick file. “I’ll review this tonight, but generally what’s the case about?”
Rob crossed his legs and began to talk. “After a lengthy illness my mother passed away about six months ago. Her will was pretty straightforward, leaving everything to her three children. She also stipulated that Aunt Martha could live at Seven Trees until her death with all expenses paid, and she left her a trust fund, as well.”
“You don’t have a problem with any of that, do you?”
“No, it was what we expected. Mother was the sole owner of the Cober estate. She bought out Aunt Martha a long time ago. Dad and my mother had been having marital difficulties for years, and they had separate estates. So we all knew the bulk would go to her children, but what we didn’t expect was an outside party being named in the will.”
“An outside party?”
“Christmas Jane Doe.”
Surprise darted along Matthew’s nerves, but he made sure that nothing showed on his face. “The girl who was left on the Watsons’ doorstep?”