A Christmas to Dismember by Addison Moore (best desktop ebook reader TXT) 📕

She takes off to find a seat, and Jasper leans in.

“Your mouth just fell open,” he whispers. “Did we just get a confession?”

“Maybe.”

“The party can start now,” a voice bellows from the entry, and the entire room turns to see Warwick giving a jovial wave. He’s dressed in a dark navy suit with a red and blue striped tie, and his beard is neatly trimmed to a point. And if I’m not mistaken, there seems to be a bounce to his step as he walks into the room. No doubt Georgie put it there.

I tip my head toward Jasper’s and whisper, “That’s the pauper Georgie was with the other night.”

Jasper sighs as Warwick offers a nod and a wink our way before heading to the front of the class with the others.

Jasper and I take a seat to the right, and Georgie lands in the seat next to me.

“Get a load of this crowd, would you?” Georgie elbows me in the side. “That Judge Goodyear is a popular guy. With that full head of hair and mouth full of real teeth, who could blame every woman in this room for having hot fantasies about him?”

“He’s the lawyer,” I whisper. “And believe me, not a soul in this room is too concerned with him or his popularity. The only thing they care about is what he’s about to say.”

Something brushes against my ankles, and before I can look down, Fish jumps up in my lap.

I couldn’t stay away, she mewls softly as she situates herself to face Joseph Goodyear along with the rest of us. Don’t worry about the tail waggers. Nessa and Grady have pulled out the tennis balls. I tried to warn them that you wouldn’t like that, but they couldn’t hear me with all the cheering, the barking, the running up and down the halls—the public urination.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I mutter a touch too loud, and the room quiets to a hush as they look my way.

Joseph Goodyear gives a light chuckle.

“And I agree.” He nods my way. “It’s time we move things along. First and foremost, thank you for being here today. I hope the holidays are treating you well. Bizzy, the inn looks like a quintessential holiday card. The tree, the refreshments, the dessert offerings—it’s all far too kind. Your hospitality is impeccable. I can see now why Quinn regarded you so highly.”

A tiny smile swims on my lips, and I give a little nod, acknowledging the sentiment.

“And on Bizzy’s behalf, I’d like to extend an invitation to the Cider Cove Christmas Spectacular taking place tomorrow evening right here on Main Street. I think after something so tragic happens, it would be beneficial to feed your soul with something merry and bright. Now”—his voice grows sharp as he scans the crowd—“I’m going to start in the order that Quinn has outlined. I’m sure some of you are anxious to see where you fall in light of the fact Quinn was worth billions. Let us begin.” He clears his throat and reads one by one the names of a few people I’m unfamiliar with, mostly friends or people he did business with. And he generously leaves them modest sums ranging from five thousand dollars to fifty. “Angelica Chatfield.” He looks to the blonde who immediately spikes up in her seat. I can’t blame her. I’d probably do the same. “To Angelica, my dear friend, I leave three payments of ten thousand dollars each—to be distributed one at a time in ten year increments.”

Her eyes enlarge, and her lips knot up. Bastard.

She forces a smile. “Lovely.” So much for quitting my day job. And now it’s looking like I’ll never leave the Davenport Steakhouse. Her fists clench. How I wish I could go back in time and kill him all over again.

All over again? As in—she’s done it once already?

The attorney’s glasses slide down his nose as he leans toward the screen of his laptop.

“It says here, Angelica, I realize this isn’t much, but it might be enough to bail you out every now and again. I fear should I leave you more than you can handle, you would immediately mismanage—”

“I’m well aware of the reasoning.” She motions for him to continue. “Please, move on to someone else.”

He does just that, knocking out a few more menial sums to people I don’t know.

“Eve French?” He offers her a broad smile as she sits almost directly in front of him. “To my darling Eve, who was, in fact, the great love of my life. I owe you many apologies for ruining what could have been a blessed union between us. Contrary to what my appearances may have impressed, I do not have billions in liquidity, but I bequeath you the properties I own in England—one dusty castle and two country estates. I also give you a beach house I purchased stateside in Whaler’s Cove knowing that some day it would be the home you and your precious Elsie would live in. In addition to this, I understand these properties could bring upon you financial duress, so I am leaving you my entire portfolio of financial investments, which include stocks, bonds, commodities, and cash of which were not distributed in the reading of my will.”

A light gasp circles the room, and a cheer breaks out—from Georgie, of course, and I nudge her to stop.

Fish mewls, There goes the beach house.

Eve leans forward in her seat, her face pink with color.

“I don’t know what to say.” She gives a few rapid blinks. “I guess he loved me in his own way.” He loved me deeply. That means more to me than all the money in the world. But thankfully, he left more than enough of that, too. Goodbye, apartment. Beach house, here we come.

Angelica snorts. “Wish he loved me a little better. I guess he preferred the cold fish routine.”

Eve scoffs just as the attorney holds up a hand.

“Let’s continue.” He goes on with a couple more people