A Convenient Affair

Ken Stephens sounded politely incredulous. “And on the strength of that one visit, she invited you to move in with her?”

Hannah’s jaw tightened, and she had to make an effort to keep her voice level. “Yes, she did. It surprised me, too, at the time. I’d happened to mention that my roommate was getting married and I was having trouble finding an apartment I both liked and could afford, and Isobel offered me a place to live for a while. I thought she meant that we could do each other a good turn. I could look after her a bit—”

“Look after Isobel?” Ken Stephens sounded astonished.

“Yes. Of course, that was before I knew her very well,” Hannah pointed out. “It didn’t take long to realize that the last thing Isobel wanted was to be treated as if she was elderly.”

“Quite a nice little arrangement you had,” he mused.

Hannah gritted her teeth. She was grateful that another tap on the door prevented her from saying something she was bound to regret.

“Now that you’re both here,” Ken Stephens said with satisfaction, “we can get started.”

Hannah didn’t even look around at the newcomer. She was still listening to Ken Stephens’s last comment echoing in her mind. A nice little arrangement you had, he’d said.

Past tense.

Well, it was no more than she’d expected. She’d sit quietly though the formalities and start studying the classifieds over lunch…

The new arrival said, “Sorry I’m late, Stephens.”

Hannah froze. It’s your imagination, she told herself frantically. There is no reason on earth for Cooper Winston to be here. This is Isobel’s estate we’re talking about, not some merger.

But there was no denying, when she turned her head to look, that Cooper was standing just inside the office, one hand still on the door. Hannah noted that Kitty Stephens had not only stood up to show him to the door, but she’d ushered him all the way in. And he was looking down at her as if fascinated by the designer scarf at her throat—or, perhaps, the face it framed.

“Thank you,” he said gently.

This was a different Cooper, Hannah thought. For one thing, it was the first time she’d seen him without the frown she had thought was permanently etched between his brows.

So was that irritable expression one he directed only at Hannah herself? Or was Kitty Stephens the exception, the one person who didn’t inspire him to sarcasm?

“Thanks for coming, Winston,” Ken Stephens said. “Kitty, see that we’re not disturbed.”

The secretary murmured, “Yes, Daddy,” and withdrew.

Her shock diminishing, Hannah leaned back in her chair. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Mr. Winston,” she said, with her best sunny smile, “or I’d have brought your friend Brutus. Which brings me to the question of why you are here. What on earth do you have to do with settling Isobel’s affairs?”

“Interesting choice of words,” Cooper said.

Ken Stephens cleared his throat. “You’re both here because you’re both mentioned in Isobel’s will.”

Cooper sat down in the chair next to Hannah’s. He was, in her opinion, paying an inordinate amount of attention to preserving the perfect crease in his trousers. “Please don’t keep us in suspense. I’m sure Ms. Lowe is panting to know how much she’s inherited.”

“As long as Isobel didn’t do anything idiotic like naming you as a trustee,” Hannah snapped, “I don’t care what she might have left me.”

The disbelief in Cooper’s eyes made her long to kick him.

“And why would you be named in her will?” Hannah went on. “It’s not as if you were intimate friends. Did you even speak to her when you met in the lobby?”

“Not if I could help it,” Cooper said coolly.

“As a matter of fact,” Ken Stephens said, “there’s no point in anyone getting high hopes. As I just mentioned, Isobel made a will, but after a full month of investigation I’ve discovered that she actually had very little to leave to anyone.”

Hannah frowned. “I don’t understand. She owned the condo—”

Ken shook his head. “No. She had a life interest in the condo. With her death, all rights to the Barron’s Court property revert to the trust which owns it.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“The furniture,” Hannah said. “It must be worth a fortune. Some of it’s hundreds of years old.”

“Undoubtedly true,” Ken agreed. “It was rented from some of the best antique dealers in the city—who, by the way, are a bit anxious to get it all back now that the lease has expired with Isobel’s death. Her china and the silver tea service are on loan, too.”

“Her jewelry?” Hannah’s voice was little more than a breath.

“It’s been appraised.” Ken Stephens tossed a sheaf of paper on the desk. “Here’s a copy of the jeweler’s report, but in brief it says that everything Isobel owned was good quality. Extremely good quality—for costume jewelry.”

“It was fake?” Hannah whispered.

For a moment the attorney looked almost sympathetic. “I have to admit it fooled me, too, Ms. Lowe.” He turned his attention to the folder which lay open on his desk blotter. “Isobel’s income consisted of a pension which ends with her death. And she apparently spent the full amount every month, because her bank accounts—checking, savings, and money market—total just under a thousand dollars, which is almost exactly the amount of the bills outstanding at the time of her death. There are no brokerage accounts, no stocks, no money owed to her.”

“I hope you’re not expecting much in the way of a fee for settling the estate, Stephens.” Cooper raised a hand to rub his jaw. “But I guess if you knew Isobel for a while, you should have expected that she’d want something for nothing. How about furs? She had a mink once, and an ermine stole—”

“Now who’s taking inventory?” Hannah muttered.

“She got rid of those a few years back,” Ken said, “when it became politically incorrect to wear them.”

Cooper made a sound which might have been a snort. “More likely it’s because they were too heavy to carry around but she didn’t want to admit she was getting weak in her declining years.”

The attorney shuffled his papers. “Isobel made a provision in her will for the rest of her clothing to be donated to a community theater group.”

“A theater?” Cooper asked. “One might almost conclude the woman had a sense of humor after all. In short, it looks as if you get nothing but the towels, Ms. Lowe. Too bad about all your expectations.”

“I didn’t have any,” Hannah said tightly.

“You can’t think I’ll believe that. You talk about me taking inventory, but the way you recited that list of possible assets a minute ago, it sounded as if you’d rehearsed it. You’ve probably been putting yourself to sleep with it every night since Isobel died, counting bonds and jewels and chairs and silver flatware instead of sheep.”

Ignore him, Hannah ordered herself. “About the condo, Mr. Stephens—you did say, after Isobel died, that I could stay on for a while. I’m planning to move, of course, but how long—?”

“I don’t see any problem in you staying until all the contents have been moved out. But you know as well as anyone, Ms. Lowe, that condos in Barron’s Court are in great demand, and I’m sure the trust would like to settle the matter as quickly as possible.”

“I understand.” Hannah slid to the edge of her chair. “In that case, I’d better get busy looking for a place to live.”

Ken Stephens extracted a page and closed the folder. “There is just one more thing. In fact, it’s actually the most valuable item mentioned in Isobel’s will.”

Under any other circumstances, Hannah would have been too preoccupied with her own troubles to notice the way Cooper’s muscles tensed. But because she had perched on the edge of her chair, her arm was almost against his, and she could feel the sudden tautness in his body. “In that case,” she said dryly, “I think I’ll stick around till the bitter end.”

“No one would expect you to do anything else,” Cooper agreed.