“Dillon. He called Reno about something else, and Reno told him he was on his way to Apple Pie Creek. He said he’s giving the court some document so he can defend you from a woman over there who’s suing you for no reason.”
“That about sums it up.”
“What do you need?”
“Nothing right now.”
“Wrong answer. Try again.”
Grace smiled in spite of herself. “Fine. Could you pick up Lily from preschool this afternoon and keep her for an hour or so? I need to talk to Mary after the shop closes.”
“Done.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Yes. Don’t make me any food. Charlotte will cook something no matter what I say, and I don’t want two casseroles on my counter.”
“No casserole. Got it. And Grace? You’re going to be all right.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know that too.”
She hung up and laughed quietly in the empty kitchen, because, for the first time in a very long time, she did know she was going to be all right.
Reno came back at two-twenty, and she stepped into the back with him.
He said without preamble, “Lincoln filed everything. Six counterclaims. Plus the answer denying every line item of her complaint. Plus a motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim. Plus a motion for sanctions against her attorney for filing knowing the claim was meritless. Oh, and my motion to appear on your behalf went in with all of it.”
“Whew. That’s a lot of paper.”
“I’m just getting warmed-up.” He flashed the shark grin again. “The discovery requests go out tomorrow.”
“What are those?”
“The part where I get to ask her for everything she has in writing, in email, in text, on her computer, on her phone, with her accountant, with her chef in Seattle, and with her son. Then I’ll ask for every sales receipt for every client her bakery has ever had. Every contract the bakery has ever signed, her entire client list, along with their contact information, and the names of every person who’s ever come into the bakery to discuss a catering contract but didn’t sign a contract with her.”
Grace’s eyes widened in alarm at the thought of having to come up with all of that from her own business.
Reno finished with, “The judge will let me ask for all of it because she sued first. Her lawyer will spend the next month scrambling to help her produce all of it.”
“And if she lies and doesn’t produce everything?”
“Then I file a motion to compel and the judge sanctions her.”
She just stood there and looked at him in his dress shirt and tie. He looked like a cover model. He’d taken his suit coat off somewhere between the courthouse and the bakery, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, showing off his tanned, muscular forearms. There was an expensive fountain pen sticking up out of his shirt pocket, and incongruously, she recalled his toothbrush doing the same thing the day he’d first shown up at the cottage.
“What will all this cost me?” she said.
“It’s going to cost Tara Marchand a pretty penny. Enough to give even her pause before I’m done with her.”
“No, what will this cost me? I’m not a wealthy socialite with nothing to do but sue people.”
“This costs you nothing.”
