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“Which she won’t.”
“Okay. She can tell me she’s sorry but there aren’t any openings at this time.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s rejection.”
“For the love of God. We’ve all experienced rejection. Try auditioning for summer music programs and being forced to acknowledge that you’re never going to sing Cherubino at the Met. You won’t dissolve into nothingness. Besides, if there isn’t a job, she’s not rejecting you. She’s telling you there’s no job.”
“Same thing.”
Rory laughs. “You’ll be a darn good attorney, Cal. I swear to God you argue every single point all the time. Even when you know the other person is right, like I am.”
I join my sister in laughter. She’s right, of course. I’ve been this way since I began forming syllables in toddler language. It still drives my family nuts.
“So you’re going in tomorrow, right?” Rory gestures to Laney.
Laney approaches. “You need a refill?”
“Two beers,” Rory says. “We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“My sister here is going after her dream.”
Laney. “You’re going to school in January! That’s great!”
I bite my lip. “Not exactly.”
“Good news sure travels fast in this town,” Rory says. “No, that still has to wait.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Great, now sympathy. I hate sympathy, especially when I’m the recipient.
“Don’t be,” I say. “I’m taking another road for now.”
A road that will probably lead absolutely nowhere, but what the heck? I can go for a beer. We Pike kids are beer drinkers despite the fact that our parents produce wine. I gaze toward the staircase, where Donny disappeared into Brendan’s place. I’ve known the Steels since we moved here when I was a kid, and not once have I seen any Steel drink a beer. They’re all about wine and fine spirits.
God. And tomorrow I’m going to walk into the city attorney’s office and ask Jade Steel to hire me.
That’s going to take more audacity and courage than I have.
“I’ll get your beers.” Laney heads back to the bar, her cheeks red.
“What time should I come by your studio for lunch tomorrow?” I ask Rory.
“What? We don’t have a lunch date.”
“Yeah, we do.” I smile. “After I get shot down by Jade Steel, you’re going to buy me lunch. At Lorenzo’s. I could go for some baked ziti.”
Chapter Nine
Donny
“I asked the same question,” Brendan says. “I mean, sure, someone had to sell this place to my dad, but why would this Madigan dude leave papers hidden under the floorboard?”
“Who gives a fuck?” Dale says. “What does any of this have to do with your great-uncle’s death?”
“Give me a minute. I went to my dad and asked him about his purchase of this place all those years ago. He said yeah, he purchased it from Jeremy Madigan, and right after that, Madigan left town with his brother and sister-in-law. Their names were Warren and Marie Madigan.”
“Again,” Dale says, “so what?”
“Dad didn’t think a lot about it at the time, but when I showed him what I found…”
“Yeah, this is getting tedious,” I say. “What exactly did you find?”
“A deed. A quitclaim deed, actually, transferring your entire ranch, including all buildings, improvements, and livestock, to a trust for the benefit of Ryan Steel.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I try to wrap my head around Brendan’s words and find that I can’t. “What?”
“It’s signed by Bradford Steel, but here’s the thing… It’s not dated.”
“Give it to me. I can tell you if it’s real or not.”
“It’s in a safe place.”
“I’m a damned attorney, Murphy. You let me see the thing or my brother and I are out of here.”
“I made a copy.” He rises.
“A copy doesn’t do any of us any good. I want to see the real thing.”
“It’s at the bank. In a safe-deposit box.”
For God’s sake. “Fine. Give me the copy.”
Brendan walks to an end table and pulls open a drawer. He withdraws a large manila envelope and hands it to me.
I open it. Inside is indeed a copy of a quitclaim deed.
“What do you think, Don?” Dale asks.
“Fuck it all. It does look legit. We’d have to verify Brad Steel’s signature. Why would he leave everything just to Uncle Ry? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“He didn’t leave everything to Uncle Ry,” Dale says. “When he died, all four of his kids inherited in equal shares.”
“Have you seen his will?” I ask.
“Well…of course not. None of us saw it. We weren’t even born when he died. Well, you, Henry, Brad, and I were, but we were kids.”
I glance over the document once more. “If there’s a trust, that means there’s a trustee. There’s no trustee mentioned on this document.”
“Maybe there was never a trust,” Dale says.
“The deed isn’t dated, and it obviously was never recorded,” I say. “Or if it was, Uncle Ry may have quitclaimed everything to his siblings in equal shares.”
“Why did you call us here for this?” Dale asks Brendan.
“Because that’s not the only part of the story.”
