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didn’t know. I’d gotten plenty of stares during the fracas with Helene at the funeral and assumed word traveled fast around these parts. Everyone probably knew I was the jilted would-be bride. Heck, most of the people at Sylvia’s funeral had probably just been disinvited from the wedding. But maybe not as many people knew as I thought, since Helene still had hopes I’d go through with it and marry her rat-bastard son.
    “The wedding is off. I’m not getting married.”
    “Oh.” He paused a beat and stared at me as if waiting for an explanation, then seemed to remember his manners. “I’m sorry.”
    “I’m not,” I said, with a conviction that surprised me. “Please, let’s get on with it. Why did you call?” The sooner we left, the better.
    “First off, my condolences about Sylvia. She thought highly of you, obviously, as she left you her house.”
    “What house?” Rachel asked, at the same time as I said, “ The house?”
    Garrett laughed, his voice like silver bells. “Yes, the house. Thistle Park. And Sylvia was pretty wily. She predicted there’d be trouble if she willed it to you, rather than Helene or Keith Pierce, who were left the house in an earlier version of the will. She deeded it to you instead, two weeks ago. Just in time, too, but she couldn’t have known that.”
    I chewed on this. Maybe that was why Sylvia had asked for her laptop as I was leaving the last time I saw her. The timing was right.
    “You see, if she had just left it to you in her will—”
    “I get it. I’m an attorney too.”
    “Sorry. I don’t want to condescend.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Well then, I won’t explain it to you.” His handsome mouth curled into a sneer.
    “You can explain it to me.” Rachel uncrossed and re-crossed her long, caramel legs. One lime-colored heel dangled from her right foot. Oh boy, it was Basic Instinct time, and my sis was doing her best Sharon Stone impersonation. “I’m not an attorney.”
    I shot her a frosty look. “Sylvia probably thought Helene and Keith would try to claim her will was invalid if she left me the house. That she made it under duress or was of unsound mind. Especially since she changed the will two weeks before she passed away, most likely right after I last saw her. But, if she deeded it to me, it’s mine free and clear. It’ll be much harder for Keith or Helene to contest it.” Sylvia was a genius .
    Garrett nodded his agreement, assessing me with shrewd eyes.
    I frowned. “I’m flattered Sylvia wanted me to have her house. I just have no idea why. And until a few days ago”—the words hitched in my throat—“I was going to marry her grandson. Then the house would have been property I was bringing into the marriage, rather than property we received together.”
    Garrett made a noncommittal sound. “Who knows why she wanted you to have it. The deed transfer appeared today in the local legal paper. It’s not like it was going to be a secret for long. They probably already know. The Pierces.” He spat out the last bit, so I guessed he wasn’t fond of Helene and Keith either. “Where do you practice?”
    “Russell Carey. Complex litigation.” It wasn’t the most exciting work, with long hours, occasional all-nighters, hard-to-please clients, and years between victories. The cases representing banks and mortgage companies dragged on forever, but they appealed to my need for order. Any surprise rulings were appealed, making their way through the higher courts in slow and somewhat predictable fashion. I was good at it and it was a way to pay off my law school loans before the turn of the next century. I had spent six years at the firm and was determined to make partner.
    Garrett Davies smirked. “As in class actions? So you play around with spreadsheets and do an occasional deposition. What are you, a junior associate? I’m impressed you know so much about small-time property transfers.”
    My cheeks burned and I stood,