Body Double (37 page)

Sarah gaped at him for a moment and then turned her face away and shut her eyes. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.” Tears leaked from her eyes.

He felt like a horse’s ass. If he could take it back, he would have. “Sarah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you’re right. I’m being a bitch. Blake, I want an annulment. I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to do this.”

Relieved, he tugged off the condom, pulled his underwear up, and climbed off the bed. His erection was gone by the time he got his jeans on and his belt fastened. Sarah dressed quickly and tucked her blouse back into the waistband of her trousers. Neither looked at the other.

“I’m—” She hung her head and crossed her arms, hugging herself.

Blake turned his shirt right side out and pulled it on. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It wasn’t the way I wanted this to go.”

She pulled her engagement and wedding rings off, picked up his hand, and pressed them into his palm. “These don’t belong to me.”

He nodded and gave her his wedding band, the one Andrea had chosen for him.

“Do you love her?” she asked, looking at his ring for the first time.

“Yes. And I have you to thank for introducing us. It might be the most bizarre way to meet one’s spouse I’ve ever heard of.” He hoped that lightening the conversation would take the awkwardness out of the air.

“So you’re going to marry her?”

If she would have him. If she trusted him to show up at the altar a second time. “I sure hope so,” he said.

She gave him a timid smile. “You’ll have an interesting story to tell, anyway, about how your bitchy, lesbian wife tried to keep you from your true love.”

“Hush.” He went to her and pulled her into his arms. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

She hugged him back and nodded into his shirt. “I’m still mad at Andrea though.”

“I know.” In time, maybe Sarah would realize that gifting her father with a few kind words before he passed away wasn’t such a bad thing.

Blake’s phone rang and vibrated in his back pocket. He answered it as he headed to the bedroom door. It was Richard. “Hey, man.” He continued down the hall and down the stairs.

“Hi, Blake. Isn’t Sarah back yet? I thought her plane got in a couple of hours ago.”

“Yeah, she’s here. She must’ve left her phone downstairs. Give her a call back in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Then you’re together?” Richard exhaled loudly. “All right, I thought... Never mind. Can we meet for dinner or drinks? I want to go over Harold’s will and talk about the funeral arrangements.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need me for that, do you? I’ll have my driver take her to meet you.”

“You’re named in the will too.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. He wondered what Harold could possibly have willed to him.

Richard suggested eight o’clock at Ruby’s Bistro, the place where he’d first met Andrea. Blake had wanted to take her there to propose and didn’t want to poison the memory of that place with what might be a contentious discussion of Harold’s will. He suggested a steakhouse not far from Ruby’s instead, and they agreed to meet there in forty-five minutes.

“Andrea is named in the will too,” Richard added. “You both should come. If it’ll make you uncomfortable, I could meet with Andrea separately.”

Blake rubbed his brow. As if Sarah wasn’t mad enough already. This was going to send her over the edge. “That might be a good idea. Do you have her phone number?” When Richard said he didn’t, Blake read it off to him. “Give her a call. Maybe the three of us can meet tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you and Sarah shortly.”

After he hung up, he called Andrea, intending to give her an update on the events of the evening so far, but he got her voice mail. After the beep, he said, “Hey, babe, it’s me. I’ve got to meet Richard this evening. I’ll call when we’re done, and you can decide if it’s too late for me to come by, but I do have some great news. Sarah agreed to the annulment. I’ll file it first thing tomorrow and we can celebrate over breakfast or lunch. Or something.” He chuckled softly, knowing she would understand his meaning. “Can’t wait to see you again. Call me back when you get a chance. I love you.” He disconnected just as Sarah came into the kitchen.

“Richard called,” he told her. “He wants to meet at eight to go over the will.”

“Okay.” Her manner was subdued, her voice quiet.

“If you’re tired, we could meet tomorrow instead,” he suggested.

“No, tonight is fine. I want to get this over with.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and fiddled with it, perhaps checking for Richard’s missed call. She left the room holding the phone to her ear. “Roxxie, it’s me. I have some good news...” Her voice faded from earshot.

Blake smiled. Everything would work out. For all of them.

The restaurant was quiet when Blake and Sarah arrived shortly before eight o’clock, most of the diners having finished their meals and left. He asked the hostess to seat them in a private corner so they wouldn’t disturb other people, and she led them to a party room where several tables had been pushed together to form a long table for twenty. She pulled one of the tables away from the rest, and Blake gently nudged her away to handle it, then arranged three chairs around the table.

He pulled out a chair for Sarah and then took a seat beside her, leaving the empty seat for Richard directly opposite her. If he needed to referee the conversation, his position between them would lend itself best.

Richard arrived and greeted them both with a cordial handshake. Again, Blake was struck by how much the man resembled his dad and so thankful they weren’t related. “Have you two eaten?” Richard asked as they took their seats.

“No,” Blake said. “I could use a bite. How about you?” He directed the question to Sarah.

She responded with a nod, still quiet after their awkward romp in the bedroom.

When the waiter arrived, Blake and Sarah both ordered a large salad, hers with boiled eggs and bacon atop a bed of spinach with mushrooms, onions, and radishes, and his with broiled chicken strips over iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and an assortment of other vegetables.

While they ate, Richard talked about Harold’s wishes for cremation, to which Sarah agreed. She seemed completely disinterested in having any part in the arrangements for the memorial service, and Richard took up the mantle.

“Whatever you think is best,” she said. “You probably knew him better than I did.”

Richard pulled out a small tablet computer and tapped on its screen. He suggested the place, date, and time, and ran through a list of suggested guests, most of whom were likely business associates. Sarah agreed with everything with a nod or a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Thanks for taking the lead on this,” Blake said.

“Can we just get to the will?” Sarah pushed her salad bowl away, leaving half uneaten.

“Um, sure,” Richard said, blinking in surprise. He tapped a few times on his tablet and brought up a document. After casting a wary glance at Blake, he began to read.

At first, it was all a bunch of legal language establishing that Harold Gentry was of sound mind, revoking all previous wills, naming Richard as executor, and directing all debts and expenses be paid as soon as possible. Then Richard licked his lips, and Sarah leaned forward.

“I give and bequeath unto my daughter, Sarah Lynn Gentry, if she survives me, the sum of ten million dollars, together with all of my personal effects, furniture, furnishings, silverware, dishes, china, glassware, and linens, which I may own at the time of my death.”

“That’s it?” Sarah asked. “That’s all I get? Ten million and some dishes?”

Blake put his hand on her forearm. “Hold on, Sarah. He’s not finished.”

Richard took a sip of his soda and continued reading. “I give and bequeath unto Andrea Lindholm, if she survives me...”

“What?” Sarah shrieked.

“...the sum of ten million dollars, together with my Mercedes Benz automobile.”

“Oh, hell no. She does not get my father’s money. She does not get his dadgum car.”

“Sarah, hush,” Blake said, as surprised as she was but not displeased. That was exceedingly generous of Harold. Maybe he hadn’t been such an ass after all. “That’s what Harold wanted, and it was his stuff. Go on, Richard.”

“It’s not right, Blake,” Sarah said. “She was no one to him.”

“Apparently she was,” he said. “If nothing else, she was kind to him. She gave him what he needed when he was lonely and scared.”

Richard waited until Blake nodded before he went on. “I give and bequeath unto Blake Thomas, if he survives me, the sum of ten million dollars. I give and bequeath unto Richard Moore, if he survives me, the sum of ten million dollars.”

That was kind of Harold. Blake didn’t expect to receive anything at all.

“This just gets better and better,” Sarah muttered. “I need a drink.”

Blake rolled his eyes and lifted his chin to signal Richard to continue.

“I give and bequeath unto The Lighthouse, a not-for-profit agency, if it is operational, the remaining sum of my liquid assets.” Richard tapped the screen and swiped it. “As of this afternoon, that came to fifty-two million, three hundred thirty-five thousand dollars and some change.”

“Wow,” Sarah said, her eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Richard said. “That’s what it says.”

Blake smiled at her. “Maybe your old dad wasn’t as much a tyrant as you thought.”

“I hereby direct my executor to divide into three shares all of the rest, residue and remainder of my property, real, personal, and of any nature whatsoever and wheresoever situate, of which I shall die seized and possessed, and to which I shall be entitled at the time of my death as follows.”

“Here we go,” Sarah said under her breath.

“The subdivision of NanoCellular Technology shall be split from the Technology Division of Gentry-Banks Industries and given wholly to Blake Thomas to own and manage as he sees fit.”

“Whoa,” Blake said. “I did not see that coming.”

Sarah nodded. “Congratulations, Blake. Now your mama will get what she wants.”

She certainly would. Blake could not have been more pleased. Now the gift of ten million made sense. With it, he could pay whatever fees were involved in the transfer of the company and its assets, though he was sure the tax liability would be astronomical.

“Oh,” Richard said, seeming to remember something. “I have a letter for you, but I was instructed to give it to you only when I have evidence that your marriage will be dissolved.”

Blake and Sarah exchanged a glance.

“We’re getting an annulment,” Blake said. “I’ll submit the paperwork first thing tomorrow. I’ve already downloaded it from the DCF web site.”

“And you agree to this?” Richard asked Sarah.

“Sure did.”

He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, withdrew a yellowed envelope, and handed it to Blake.

Blake stared at the address on the front, neatly printed in his dad’s hand, and at the postmark dated twenty-three years earlier. “Is this it?”

“Yeah. I trust that you’re going to follow through on the annulment. There’s no reason to hold this over your head any longer.”

He turned the envelope over in his hands. Within was the only surviving evidence of his father’s infidelity and the reason he’d married a woman he didn’t love. He didn’t care to read the letter. In fact, it would be burned as soon as he got home.

“Are we done?” Sarah asked.

“Not yet.” Richard swiped a finger across his tablet’s screen. “Ninety percent of my current shares of Gentry-Banks Industries are to be transferred to Sarah Lynn Gentry.”

“Gracious me! He changed his will? I can’t hardly believe it.”

“He did,” Richard said. “Just before he died.”

“Guess you can’t measure a snake ’til it’s stretched out dead.”

“Sarah,” Blake said in a scolding tone. Hopefully that was the scotch talking.

“Did you say ninety percent? What about the other ten?”

Blake sighed. Why couldn’t she be happy with the vast majority of his stock? That alone would probably put her net worth at close to a billion dollars, if not over.

“The remaining ten percent of my current shares of Gentry-Banks Industries are to be transferred to Ms. Andrea Lindholm.”

Oh, shit.
“Sarah, don’t—”

Sarah leapt to her feet. “Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. I won’t stand for it.” She swept one arm across the table, sending her salad bowl and its remaining contents sailing.

Richard jumped out of his chair and backed away from the table, clutching his tablet protectively.

“Jesus, Sarah.” Blake shot to his feet. He righted a toppled water glass before it rolled off the edge of the table and then used his napkin to soak up the spilled water. “Sit the hell down and quit acting like a spoiled five-year-old. Don’t you have any self-respect?”

“She’s taking everything from me,” she whined, looking like a little girl whose favorite toy had been ripped from her hands.

“Sarah,” Richard said, “there’s something you should know about this will. The previous version had designated all of his stock shares be left to Hiram Banks’s children and the larger share of cash to a small selection of charities, among which The Lighthouse was not listed. It wasn’t until Andrea went to visit him in the hospital that he changed the will. She’s the reason you got more than the initial ten million and the dishes.”