“Nick’s the expert here,” Abel says, “I believe there would be a case to prove deceptive practices among other charges, and force the bank’s hand into backing off. But we have to find the proverbial treasure.”
“Which is why, among other things,” I reply, “that we have a private investigator working on this.”
“The private investigator that you’re paying,” Faith says, gathering up the documents and turning her attention to Abel. “I’ll read these and let you know if I have questions.”
“This is time sensitive,” Abel says, before I have the chance. “Let’s read through them together.”
“Nick needs them by morning,” she says. “It’s afternoon. And I need two things from you. One is your fee agreement. I need to know how much you charge, so that I can budget to pay you.”
“I’ve been paid,” he states.
“By Nick.”
“Not with cash,” he clarifies.
“He’s been paid, Faith,” I reiterate.
She ignores me. “Please put together a bill,” she states again. “And additionally, I need a contract that states that I will pay Nick back any and all money he spends on my behalf with fifteen percent interest.”
My jaw clenches. “Faith—”
“And,” she continues, as if I have not spoken, “if I do not do so in a year, he receives thirty percent interest in the winery. There will need to be a financial ledger.”
“He’s not going to do that, Faith,” I say.
She rotates to face me. “He is or he isn’t my attorney, but yours, and I’m not protected at all.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
She looks at Abel. “I need those documents.” She holds up the paperwork in her hand. “And I’m going upstairs to read these in detail.”
“My cellphone number and email are on the offer letter,” Abel says, drawing her attention again. “Email me and text me so that I have your contact information to get you those documents. And you can give Nick the signed documents, but if you have questions or concerns, text me, email me, call me. Whatever works for you, but do it this evening.”
My cellphone rings, and I glance at the number to find Beck is calling for the second time in forty-five minutes, and just that fast, Faith has darted around me and is walking away. I hit the decline button, and take a step in Faith’s direction. “Wait,” Abel orders harshly, his tone insistent, his hands coming down on the counter. “Don’t go after her yet.”
“Now is not the time for whatever you plan to say,” I say, taking another step, but he doesn’t take “no” for an answer.
“Damn it, Nick,” he growls. “Wait.”
With agitated reluctance, I halt, facing him, my gaze pinning his. “Now is not the time,” I bite out again, “for whatever it is you want to say.”
“Quite the contrary,” he assures me. “It’s the exact right time considering you’re about to go upstairs and bulldoze Faith. Let her do what she feels she needs to do.”
“You’re supposed to be working forher. Do that. Protect her, not me.”
“I am working for her,” he says. “Which is why I repeat: Don’t be a bull charging at her. If you—”
“I don’t want her money.”
“I know that,” he says. “I get that. So does she.” He grimaces. “Look, man. You don’t deal with death with your job the way I do. I see how it impacts people. It steals your control. It makes you need to find it in other places, and finding it is part of healing.”
“Death has nothing to do with this, Abel. Again. For the third time. Now is not—”
“Deathis apart of this,” he presses. “You both are dealing with its biting impact on your lives.”
“There is no biting impact for me. I hated my father.”
“And yet, despite hating your father, you had to solve the mystery of his death. Open your eyes and recognize how much you both need control right now. Because if you don’t find a way to give Faith some of what you want to take, she will push back and perhaps even push you away.”