Page 37 of Her Property

She was pretty, her whole look what Cat would call bohemian. She wore a chunky orange sweater, and her dirty blonde hair flowed loosely around her shoulders, lifting in the wind blowing from what seemed like all directions. The bangles lining her wrist clattered as she leaned her arm out the window.

“I’m Casey,” she said, then pointed a thumb at the backseat. “And that’s my son, Sam.”

An adorable little boy with the same blonde hair waved from the back of the cab.

After introducing herself, Cat asked, “How did you know I was staying at Alfred’s?”

“RUBY,” Casey said.

“Excuse me?”

“The license plate. RUBY for Ruby Lake. That’s Alfred’s lake house car. So you’re either a strange kind of car thief or you’re staying at his place.”

Cat had laughed, and they had talked about Alfred and how ridiculous it was that he had a lake house car to begin with. Casey had a great affection for him though, she said, ever since she’d gone over and given him shit for the loud party he’d had last summer.

“He scared the alpacas! But he brought over a case full of extremely expensive wine the next day, so I forgave him pretty quick.”

“Sounds like Alfred,” Cat said. She was warmed that someone around here actually liked Alfred. She realized she’d been getting concerned that maybe her loyalty to Alfred was misplaced. What if hewasa total asshole, and she was just used to it? But what Casey had said was totally believable, and Cat could remember plenty of other times Alfred had shown himself to be good to other people besides her.

Casey had given her the phone number of the farm in case she needed anything, even giving her an open invitation to come over while she was here to share one of the bottles she still had in her pantry.

“Better get home before those open up,” Casey said, pointing to the clouds overhead. They’d gone from gray to ominous slate since Cat had been in the store. Then her son poked her from the backseat and she’d waved, pulling the truck away.

Cat had driven home feeling slightly more relaxed than she had before.

When she got home, the phone was ringing and Cat ran to answer it. It was only 12:30—they must have finished lunch early, and Laura must have something juicy enough that she couldn’t wait for Cat to call.

“Tell me everything!” she said, when she picked up the phone.

But it wasn’t Laura.

“Catherine,” Alfred barked. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but when I told you to take some photos, I didn’t tell you to get the scoop like some small town cub reporter!”

“Alfred—” Cat said, irritation flaring. All the warm fuzzies she’d gotten from Casey disappeared.

“Laura told me you were trying to dig up personal information.”

“She did not,” Cat said, calling his bluff. She was almost certain Laura wouldn’t bethatbad of a spy—telling the enemy the plan.

“Not in so many words, but she was asking questions that sounded suspiciously like they’d come from a certain busybody’s brain.”

“Busybody!” Cat sputtered. Then she thought carefully about her words. “Alfred, you know I need all the information before I make choices. It’s the thing you said you appreciated in me. In all those performance reviews you said you could rely on me to always be fully informed. To not make rash decisions. To provide well-evidenced arguments. You said that would serve me well over an… what were your words… an illustrious career!”

“Did I say that? Well, after last week I don’t know if I’d say you were on the path to anillustriouscareer.”

Cat knew this was Alfred being bombastic and not a threat, and maybe she should have been wounded. Instead, her anger grew. “Alfred, I know I messed up. Don’t you think I know that? If you would have just let me stay on the case I could have made it better, I could have—”

“Catherine, I can’t afford mistakes like that, with clients like those.”

Cat paused, trying to parse his anger. Then she understood. She’d poked the bear. Whatever it was about the land dispute, Alfred was so against talking about it, he’d become furious if anyone so much as mentioned it. It matched the vehement anger he’d shown in the car when talking about Jake.

But why?

“We may have a more… open communication style at Jones & Associates than other firms. But you still work for me, and keeping that line clear is critical.”

Thatwasa threat.

And it wasn’t fair. All Cat had wanted to do was help.

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