54 - Definite Problem

“Okay,” Jon said evenly. 

Okay?  Okay?!?  Are you freakin’ kidding me? 

Cassidy managed to maintain an outward calm but on the inside she was nauseous, holding her breath in anticipation of his damning judgment.  She needed a little more input than “okay” from the man who, two weeks ago, had unexpectedly taken up residence in the center of her world.  More specifically, she really wanted his support and understanding.

Relax.  At least he’s not reachin’ for the phone to call the police.  He might be lookin’ in the distance instead of at you, but he’s still holdin’ onto your hand and doesn’t act repulsed.  How bad could it be?

She’d opened herself to him too much.  She’d let him – and his opinion – come to mean too much.  If he turned on her like a rabid dog, Cassidy was going to be…  Maybe not heartbroken, but deeply upset.

“Jon,” she prodded, the seriousness of the situation triggering her instinctive use his given name in place of endearments.  “The brevity isn’t sexy this time.  Are you appalled at sleepin’ with a felon or what?  It’s nerve-wracking not knowin’.”

Surprised eyes slid back to her and he was quick to apologize.  “Sorry.  I shifted into crisis management mode and was running through my list of contacts, trying to decide who could best help us sort this shit out.”

Us.  He said help 'us' sort this out. 

His response pricked her overfilled anxiety like swollen balloon, allowing it to hiss angrily and fly around the room until it fell deflated at her feet. 

His willingness to include himself in this mess pleased her immensely, even though she shouldn’t let him make it an ‘us’ thing.  Cassidy was quickly nearing the point of admitting she couldn’t put an end to this felonious adventure on her own, but he had a very full life to lead outside of his illicit lover.  She could not, and would not, pin her hopes on him.

“While I appreciate the thought, it’s not really not yours to sort.” 

“You think so, huh?”  His mouth tightened at the corners as though he was biting his tongue, and Jon twisted to slide his coffee cup onto the high end table.  When he turned back to her, it was with veiled eyes and an obstinately jutted chin.  “I disagree, but since I still don’t have any interest in arguing with you, we’ll pretend I have no stake in the outcome.  What’s the grand plan?  You disappear from Nashville and…?”

“Find the lawyer whose name is on that will – Beauregard Beasley.”

That was a no-brainer.  It was what she’d been futilely endeavoring to do for weeks now, and she couldn’t see that there was another logical first step.

“Is this, by chance, the same ‘friend of your grandmother’s’ that you were looking for last week?” One reproachful eyebrow arched.  “The one that had you asking me how to find him?  The one you whose name you wouldn’t give to Dave so he could help?”

Cassidy frowned and extracted her hand, not quite sure that she appreciated the implication that, if she hadn’t already found him, she wasn’t going to.  So she wasn’t Nancy Drew or Miss Marple.  It was harder than it looked and, darn it, she was trying!

“For someone who doesn’t wanna argue, you’re sure bein’ awful provokin’.”

“I’m trying my damnedest not to provoke anything,” he remarked in a casual tone that was completely at odds with the muscle ticking in his jaw.  “So I’ll withdraw the question.  Let’s say you do find Beasley… somehow.  What does that accomplish?”

His jaw wasn’t the only one ticking now that he’d put her on the defensive.  “It proves that the second will is a fake and Uncle Stanley doesn’t get squat.  It also keeps me out of jail, because they can’t arrest me for stealin’ my own car and burnin’ down my own house.” 

I don’t think.

“And you’re sure the will isn’t valid?”

“Beyond the shadow of a doubt,” she vowed flatly, draining the last of her coffee and setting the empty cup on the table.  “I took a leave of absence from work to care for MeMaw those last couple months and I didn’t leave her side.  I would’ve known if she made up a new will at the end.”

“Okay.  Good.” 

Jon pivoted his head just enough to look toward the windows while scraping a restless hand through his hair.  The morning light cast shadows that caught under the chiseled arch of his cheekbones, making them seem more strikingly prominent, and those same shadows accentuated the lines that dug more deeply than usual around his mouth. 

The last of that coffee churned unhappily in her stomach.  Cassidy hated being responsible for the cragginess that harshly added to his age.  The past couple of years had been hard enough on him, and he didn’t need her and her problems adding wrinkles to the fire.

“It’s all gonna work out,” was her plucky assurance as she laid a comforting palm on his forearm. 

It would – one way or another – but the disdainful look that he cut her spoke visibly of his disbelief. 

“So Stanley’s will is a fake.  Is he suddenly gonna stop being a greedy sonofabitch because you have proof that you own an incinerated house?  What’s going to put this to rest besides giving him what he wants?  Where does this end, Cassidy?”

“I… I’m not sure.”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t given it ample thought.  She had, but she always ended up at the same roadblock Jon just described.  Nobody knew about the gold, nobody could legally keep it away from her uncle.  He was always going to be a thorn in her side until, as Jon said, he got what he wanted or she came up with an exceptionally clever way to shake him off her back.

“You’ve pulled a gun on the guy a couple of times already,” Jon bluntly reminded.  “What’s to stop him from doing the same to you?  Is there a possibility that he or his son will resort to violence?”

Uncle Stanley didn’t even go deer hunting, and she’d always secretly believed he thought such things beneath him.  He preferred to spend his leisure time at the golf club where he could pretend he was wealthier than the pension he drew as retired director of the community hospital.  Gerald Ray was a little more country, due to his job as a surveyor, but that hardly equated to a propensity for violence.

“Of course not!” 

Jon’s mouth twisted cynically and he goaded, “Are you sure about that?  Absolutely sure?  Because, I gotta tell ya, greed makes people do crazy shit.”  

“I’m reasonably sure.” 

“Were you reasonably sure that he wasn’t going to go ballistic over your inheritance, too?”

With a strangled sigh of frustration, Cassidy’s chin dropped to the chest that was beginning to ache with anxiety and scrubbed flustered hands up and over her face.  If this had been easy, she never would have met the man who was grilling her like a rack of ribs.  It would’ve been resolved within the first week and she would be back home in Moreland seeing Old Man Carruthers for his regular recurrence of gout. 

“If you’ve got a point to make beyond establishing that I’m screwed and don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, then I’d appreciate you gettin’ to it.”

“Dixie.”  He released Cassidy’s hand to cradle her face and dust gentle thumbs over the apples of her cheeks.  “I’m only trying to make you acknowledge the bigger picture.  Finding the lawyer isn’t the end of your problems, and I’m concerned about how far your uncle will go with this.”

“If they find me, I’m going to jail.  Period,” she stated flatly and looked him square in the eye.  “I can’t do anything from behind bars, so I have to get out of here and disappear best as I can.  Simple as that.”

His hands fell to wrap around the ones that lay listlessly in her lap.  “I don’t disagree with that.”

“Well, whaddaya know.  I said somethin’ you actually agree with.”

“Don’t make me out the bad guy because I’m pointing out shit you don’t wanna think about.”

Jon didn’t understand how an obviously bright woman could be content with ignoring the obvious.  Was she so enamored with the Wizard of Oz that she believed finding the lawyer and clicking her heels to go home was a reasonable expectation?  Damned if he didn’t hate being the one to burst her bubble, but somebody desperately needed to do it.

“I’m sorry.  You’re right,” she admitted and Jon was surprised to see some of the starch come out of her sails.  “I don’t wanna think about it because it turns out that I might not be capable of cleaning up this mess and have no idea what to do beyond finding Beasley.  Even that simple task is evidently beyond me.”

He grinned and leaned in to plant a quick, firm kiss against her lips.  Now they were getting somewhere. 

“It’s not the end of the world to find out you’re not invincible,” he assured her.  “Believe it or not, something good can even come of it.  It got me you.”

One corner of her mouth slipped up in a discreet smile.  “I’ll refrain from comment and move on to suggestions for rectifyin’ the fiasco of my life.  You have any?”

There was a moment in which he wondered whether the evasion meant she didn’t believe whether something good could come of this – or if he didn’t really have her.  Reaching out to park a hand on one of her thighs, Jon firmly believed both statements were true, but now wasn’t the time to belabor the point.  There were items that were more urgent on the agenda.

“I do, in fact.  First off, we’re going to recruit help in finding the lawyer.  We can start with exploiting Dave’s brain, I can call the brother that I mentioned was good with this kind of thing, or we can go for the big P.I. guns right off the bat.  Preference?”

“David.”

She made the choice he’d expected her to but, when she didn’t qualify the decision, he couldn’t seem to repress his need to push.  “Okay.  Mind if I ask why?”

“I think it’s best I stay out of your family orbit and I’d rather avoid the expense of a private investigator.”

There was no point in telling her that the P.I. would be his expense, because Jon had a feeling Cassidy would pitch a fit unless she had reached the end of her rope and it was a last resort.  As for staying out of his family orbit, she might be right.  There would be no need to fill Matt in about the details of Jon’s relationship with Cassidy but it didn’t mean his little brother wouldn’t speculate.  There were already enough people speculating about them this morning without feeding the fire. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

He pushed to his feet and crossed the room to snag his phone from the desktop.

[8:27 AM]JON: U still around?

“Okay.”  Leaning against the desk, he crossed his legs at the ankle and talked to her while waiting for Dave’s reply with phone in hand.  “God willing, we can find the guy this morning so you don’t have to go anywhere.  Let’s talk about how to deal with your uncle.”

This part was going to be a little more complicated, he feared, and she probably wouldn’t be quite so accepting of his suggestion this time around. 

“I’d really just like to smack him upside the head with a wet trout until he gets some sense about him,” she drawled with the Southern sass he liked so much.

Jon chuckled at the vivid visual and checked the incoming text from David. 

[8:29 AM]DAVE: Yep

[8:30 AM]JON: Come over ASAP

“As fun as that trout thing sounds, I don’t think it’s going to be of much use,” was his observation.  “Can we go back to your grandmother for a minute?  And the reason she wanted you to have the gold?”

“To preserve the family legacy.”

To preserve the family legacy.  That was good and vague, which might prove beneficial in keeping Cassidy’s conscience intact if she, by some chance, truly wanted to rid herself of this obligation.

“So…”  This was a touchy question and he should be very careful about the words he selected to pose it.  “When you first told me about this, I kind of got the impression that you weren’t… thrilled to have been selected for preservation duty.  Am I wrong?”

With a sigh and a crinkling of her nose, Cassidy’s ruby-red heels hit the floor and she slowly walked back toward the bank of windows, once again gazing down at the sidewalk. 

“You’re not wrong.  I want to honor MeMaw’s wishes and it’s nice havin’ a legacy, I guess, but I don’t give a flip about the gold itself.  It’s about as useless as tits on a boar hog and a helluva lot heavier.”

Jon snorted with abrupt laughter at the same time a knock came at the door.

“That’s a colorful way to put it,” he spoke over his shoulder when moving to admit their guest, whom he assumed to be his friend and keyboardist.  “We’ll pick this back up later.”

“Mornin’ and shit,” David greeted over the lazy shuffle of his flip-flops, attired in shorts and a t-shirt with a ball cap crammed onto his bedhead.  “Coffee.  You surely have coffee if summoning me at this time of day.”

“I’ll get it.”  Cassidy immediately moved toward the little coffee maker to start another two-cup pot while the men sat on opposite ends of the couch. 

“You were summoned because we need your help.”

Eyes that were still heavy with sleep slid curiously between the man who had issued the summons and the beautiful redhead.  “What’s up?”

“I’ve reconsidered your offer of helpin’ to find my grandmother’s friend,” Cassidy interceded from across the room.  “If you’re still willin’ to try your hand at it?”

David’s attention shifted lazily from her to his friend.  “A week later, it’s enough to warrant an ‘ASAP’ conversation?”

“It’s-”

“It’s complicated,” she interrupted Jon’s attempted explanation with an imploring look.  She wanted to handle this, so he let her.  “And I’d rather not bog you down with all the borin’ details.  I’ll just say that I’m lookin’ for a lawyer in regard to my recently-deceased grandmother’s will and time is now of the essence.  Do you think you might have any more luck than I did?”

One shoulder inched negligently upward.  “There’s always a chance, but I can’t promise anything.  Like I told you before, I don’t have some secret resource but I don’t mind giving it a go.  What’s the lawyer’s name?”

“Beauregard Beasley,” Cassidy supplied along with David’s coffee before taking the chair nearest Jon. 

Without conscious thought, Jon extended a hand to rest on her thigh.  He didn’t realize he’d done it until his buddy’s eyes morphed from sleepy to pointedly observing Cassidy lace their fingers together, but Jon didn’t withdraw.  He would be leaving her soon enough and refused to waste his energy hiding from an old friend who already knew the score.

“Okay,” that friend vaguely acknowledged, his gaze fixed on the feminine thumb that stroked Jon’s knuckles.  “Send me a text with the correct spelling, though, would ya?”

Cassidy dipped her head in assent.  “I will.  Thank you.” 

Then there was… nothing but an oddly uncomfortable silence while David sipped his coffee and continued a subdued scrutiny.   

“You headed back to Jersey today, Lema?” he asked to fill the damn silence.

“Nah.  Think I’ll hang around another night.  Lexi’s still… wherever she is and I like the vibe here.  Besides, now I have a project to keep me busy.”

“I’m going tomorrow evening.  You can hitch a ride with me, if you want.”

The same eagle-sharp eyes that had noted interlaced fingers on Cassidy’s thigh now took inventory of her contracting grip.  It was only a brief squeeze, but Jon clearly saw Dave register it before pulling his gaze up to closely examine Cassidy’s face.

“Sounds good, thanks.”

The uncharacteristically short and absent-minded answer was evidence of Dave’s distraction.  He was no longer cataloging Cassidy from head to toe and had moved on to giving Jon the same treatment.  It was a little unsettling and Jon was going to kick his own ass for this, but he couldn’t help himself.  Curiosity got the better of him.

“Is there a problem?” he inquired with a steel-threaded nonchalance. 

“There is, in fact.”

Once again, David took pointed interest in their hands.  It was so obvious that Cassidy tried to withdraw, but Jon only held tighter and locked eyes with the other man.  “So what’s your problem?”

“On the occasion of my last visit to Nashville,” David reflected solemnly.  “I very distinctly recall you both assuring me that your hearts weren’t going to become involved in this little a-muse-ment.  Yet here you both are, in fucking love.  Definite problem, dude.”