Page 111 of Bourbon Bliss
He was right; he didn’t need another accountant. He very likely had a competent attorney who would help him through this process. They would hire the appropriate people—accountants and otherwise—to work on his case.
What he needed was his girlfriend. A partner to be with him and support him emotionally during a difficult time. To love him through it, as my mother had said.
“Thank you,” I said, standing up abruptly. “I think I understand now.”
“Understand what?” Dad asked.
“How to have a true intimate relationship with another human.” I grabbed my coat and paused near the front door. “I have to go. I love you both.”
“Love you too, June Bug.”
* * *
When I got to Philadelphia,George wasn’t home. His car was nowhere to be seen, and there was no answer at his door. I peeked through the front window and saw Mellow sound asleep on her bunny bed. He must have already gone to his meeting.
I knew the name of his attorney, so it was simple enough to locate his office. Inside, I stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m June Tucker, here to see Marc White with George Thompson.”
“Are they expecting you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied without blinking.
“One moment.” She glanced at her computer screen. “Mr. Thompson is already in Mr. White’s office. I can take you back.”
I followed the woman down a hallway to a plain brown door. She knocked twice, then opened it.
“Ms. Tucker is here.”
George looked up at me, his eyes widening. He sat on one side of a large mahogany desk. On the other side sat a man dressed in a button-down shirt and tie. He had salt and pepper hair, and more gray than brown in his neatly trimmed beard.
“I apologize for my tardiness.” I’d dressed for the occasion, donning a crisp white blouse, pencil skirt, and black pumps. I stepped past the receptionist, into the room, and took the seat next to George.
“What are you doing here?” George asked quietly.
The door clicked closed behind the receptionist.
“I’m here to support you.”
“What?”
I patted his knee and settled back in my seat. “I’m June, George’s significant other. Please forgive the interruption. Carry on.”
Marc looked at George, his eyebrows raised, but George was looking at me, a slow smile spreading across his features.
“Thank you, June Bug.”
I nodded, keeping my lips pressed together, trying to show him I wasn’t here to intervene. I wasn’t his accountant. I was his partner. When he needed me, I’d be here.
He dipped his chin, a subtle gesture I recognized. He understood. That was one of the amazing things about George Thompson. He understood me.
“Sorry,” he said to Marc and took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “We can continue.”
I sat in silence while they discussed George’s case. Since I’d clearly arrived midway through their meeting, I hadn’t heard all the relevant information. But it didn’t take long for me to catch up. George had provided Marc with the entirety of his financial records from the last ten years. Marc had a team of skilled accountants and attorneys sorting through the documentation. They were preparing for the IRS audit, and seeking evidence of Andrea’s theft and fraud.
Marc cleared his throat. “Ms. Wilson’s lawsuit is an unwelcome distraction. And it doesn’t help your case. The IRS is going to be investigating before a judge has a chance to look at the civil suit. But the IRS will be well-aware you’re being sued. Put simply, it doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” George said. “Is there anything I can do about it at this point?”
