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Beau cocked his head. “Shingle?”
“An expression for starting a practice after passing the bar.”
“Ah, I see,” he murmured.
“What can I do for you?” Chip asked.
“Is there somewhere we could sit and chat privately?”
I smiled again. The keyword in Beau’s request was “sit,” given the office chairs were piled high with files and other stuff.
“Sure, uh, there’s a conference room. Let me just find a notepad.”
I spotted one and pointed.
“Right. Thanks.”
We followed him down the hall, where I was relieved to see the tables and chairs in the room weren’t being used for storage.
“This is a common area the tenants share,” Chip explained, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.
Beau pulled my chair out, then sat beside me.
“Mr. Sokolowski—”
“Please, call me Chip.”
“Right. Chip. Ms. Marquez has recently learned she is the beneficiary of a trust. The woman who named her as such, Mrs. Cena Covert, passed away in December. It is our understanding your father represented Mrs. Covert, although he did not prepare said trust.”
Chip’s friendly demeanor shifted. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I’m going to be completely honest with you.”
My eyes opened wide. Where was this going?
“Please continue,” said Beau.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but to be fair, I’m going to anyway as long as you agree that it remain off-the-record.”
I was holding my breath and wondered if Beau was too.
“We’ll agree,” Beau responded. When Chip looked at me, I nodded.
“One of the reasons I haven’t announced my intent to practice is that there were questionable things found in my father’s files.”
“Since you brought it up,” Beau turned to me. “Perhaps you’d like to explain, since this is your inheritance.” By the way he said it, I knew he was asking more than suggesting.
“I would.” I cleared my throat. “When we met with Mr. Creola, the attorney representing the estate, yesterday, we found a contract we believe was drawn up by your father.”
“For?”
“It’s between Lilac Lane Winery and Schultz Wineries.”
Chip sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “What is the issue?”
“The contract was signed by a James Rooker, but nothing in it that says Mrs. Covert gave him the authority to do so.” I looked over at Beau, who nodded.
“What we’re wondering, Chip, is if there was a power of attorney in place and if there were circumstances under which it was invoked.”
“We can handle this one of two ways.”
