A thin, older man emerged from the second vehicle. Only the pale oval of his face beneath a classic fedora relieved the steady black of his heavy overcoat, conservative business suit, and wingtips. He clutched a briefcase in one gloved hand. Crossing to the woman, he greeted her in a short exchange. They turned together and headed up the walkway.
“Lawyers.” Jake grumbled at Gracie’s side. “They usually have a slick, plastic look. Figures this one resembles an angel of doom.”
Her head whipped around at his odd comment, but his gaze was locked on the approaching couple.
She turned and eyed the woman. “The redhead doesn’t resemble any lawyer I’ve ever seen.”
He chuckled and cast her a slight smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that. Her name is Victoria Price, and she isn’t a lawyer. V is my publicist.”
His publicist? Am I about to be double-teamed?
“Mr. Malone.” The black-clad lawyer greeted Jake then smiled at Gracie. “Miss Gable, I’m Anthony Spinoza. Thank you for coming.”
Gracie nodded and shook his offered hand.
“I see you’ve met Mr. Malone. Miss Price is acting as his representative this morning.”
Okay, what the hell is going on?
Obviously Jake was here for some reason other than to have it out with her over their blog spat, but what the reason was, she couldn’t imagine.
Gracie shook the publicist’s hand, noting the Texas accent similar to Jake’s. “Likewise.”
“It appears we’re all here.” Anthony lifted a hand toward the front door. “Shall we proceed?”
Gracie’s gaze flew from face to face, desperate to discover why Jake Malone and his publicist would be sitting in on the reading of Pete’s will. No plausible explanation presented itself.
Well, crap. I’ve slipped down a rabbit hole.
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