Page 17 of Drilled

Bear's words pulled me up short, right as I was walking out the door..

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” I asked, certain that I’d heard him wrong.

“My office coordinator called from the main desk. The tile pallet and the custom fixtures just arrived from the showroom, but the final materials draw was completely blocked by a legal hold on your account. The drivers won't unload the crates without a cleared payment,” he repeated, his voice as calm and smooth as ever. His eyes held on mine with a tentative curiosity, as though he was looking to see if I knew about what was going on or if I was just as blindsided as he was.

“That’s weird,” I said, torn between trying to figure out what happened and needing to get to work. With two early court dates, there was really hardly a choice at all. I reached into my bag and pulled my credit card from my wallet.

“Here,” I said, handing it over to him. “I’ll call you guys a bit later to get this fixed once I’m at work.”

He nodded. “Have a good day in court.”

“Thank you. Good luck with the schedule,” I replied.

There was a beat of awkwardness in that exchange, the type that echoed something else. That something else was decidedly less palatable than awkwardness.

We hadn’t addressed the conversation I overheard between the three of them at all. In fact, we’d all seemed to fall into a unanimous agreement to pretend that it never existed. We were doing a pretty good job at it too, except for moments like these.

I gave him a nod of my own and left.

The train ride to the Daley was a sort of transitional period. I could piece my armor back on, get my mind into gear for the day and prepare myself for what was to come. Which was a good thing because my schedule for the day was packed.

I finally slumped into my desk around lunch time, which was perfect timing for Nance to waltz in with her usual debriefing. But instead of the normal, eager smile she wore when she would update me on any new developments, she looked uncertain. Even a bit nervous.

“Nance?” I asked, immediately sitting up straight in my chair. “What’s up?”

She clicked her pen, her eyes shifting with what looked like pity.

“What is it? Come on, you can tell me,” I told her, steeling myself for whatever words were going to come out of her mouth next.

“Lane, I flagged an emergency petition to freeze your estate assets. It was filed in Cook County Probate Court and the filing attorney’s signature matches Rose Whittaker's personal lawyer.”

Now it all made sense why Nancy had been so reluctant to tell me what was happening. It also made sense why my Cornerstone account would’ve been frozen. My mother had been dicey about Uncle Ricky’s will since its reading. It shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d be poking around its validity, or that she would sic her lawyers to try and find a loophole wherever they could.

Logically, it made perfect sense. I knew the kind of person my mother was.

But I wasn’t prepared for the sting that hit me when it truly sunk in. I leaned back again, swallowing hard and trying to rally my thoughts into action. “I knew she was trying to work her way around my uncle’s will but this is low even for her. Things are getting out of hand.”

“They don’t have to,” Nance said, walking up to my desk and placing her palm flat on the surface. Her mouth was set in a determined line. “I’m already working on an immediate Motion to Dismiss. There’s a lack of standing and for good measure, we can even throw in a counter-claim for a frivolous pleading penalty. That should get her lawyer to back down. Try not to let this get to you, okay? You have enough on your plate as is.”

I looked at Nance and tried to smile. For years now, she’d been one of, if not the only, person in my corner every time I needed someone. Not even my own blood had offered me that, but she was always ready to fight.

But even with Nance on my side, this was going to be a lot easier said than done.

I called Rose the moment I had an open window. She picked up on the second attempt.

“So now you finally call me back. It’s about time, Lane.” Not a greeting, no questions of how I’ve been doing or anything else that even resembled maternal warmth or care. Just a condescending tone and audible sneer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she replied, the cold indifference tightening my grip on the phone.

“I’m not playing these games right now, Rose. You know that I’m in the middle of renovations. Why would you have your lawyers freeze my account?” I said, the lump in my throat growing thicker because I already knew the answer. But like a child, I was hoping she’d tell me I was wrong.

“I am your mother, Lane. You should address me as such,” she replied.

I barked a laugh. “I’m surprised you even remembered. Call your lawyers off and unfreeze the account or I’m filing a counter-claim.”

“You can use the little Public Defender voice with me all you want, it makes no difference. I’m trying to save you from yourself. That house is a money-sucking pit that is having you currently living like a squatter,” she said. “There’s no need to try and prove a point, anymore. You should sell like I advised from the start and use it to build a—”