Page 41 of Bridles and Bribery

Gil’s expression grew thunderous. “I’m going to need a few more details about what you’re getting yourselves into before I open your doors.”

“I can open my own door, thank you very much.” Eloise reached for the handle and rattled it a few times. Her expression grew as thunderous as his. “Are you out of your mind?” she demanded acidly.

He ignored her question. “Eloise, I promised Dave I’d look after you and Jillian, and I intend to keep my word, so start talking.”

Jillian could practically feel the steam rolling out of her mother-in-law’s ears. “It’s a homeowner’s association dispute,” she offered quickly. “Fortunately for Dave’s neighbor, his property purchase predates the inception of the HOA. In a nutshell, a few newly elected board members are overstepping their authority and harassing the snot out of someone they have no right to harass the snot out of.”

Gil’s expression cleared. He tapped the button to pop the locks on their doors. “Go get ‘em, tigers!”

Eloise was livid as she pushed her door open and hopped unassisted to the ground. “So help me, Gil, if you ever pull a stunt like that again…”

“Don’t worry, Eloise. You’ll never see it coming,” he promised with another wink. “Watch this.”

To Jillian’s astonishment, she found herself stepping to the ground in clouds of white smoke. It took her a startled second or two to realize it was being pumped out from beneath the undercarriage of Gil’s vehicle. She waved a hand rapidly in front of her face as she hurried up the sidewalk to the neighbor’s front porch.

Eloise was fanning her face just as furiously as Gilroared off. “The nerve of him,” she seethed. “But that’s okay, because paybacks are?—”

The front door to the farmhouse flew open, interrupting her tirade. A man stepped out with a rifle in hand. He cocked it ominously, though all he did was lower it to his side.

Jillian stopped in mid-step, her mouth falling open as she came face-to-face with her next-door neighbor — a very angry next-door neighbor. He was hatless, coatless, and surprisingly handsome for a man his age. The winter breeze blowing over the lake riffled his dark, silvery hair. However, not so much as a shiver escaped him.

“If you’re from the homeowners’ association, you may as well turn around and crawl right back into whatever hole you slithered out of.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Eloise snapped. “We’re your next-door neighbors. Jillian is, anyway. I live in Naples.” Her tone suggested it was galaxies away from his less than stellar welcome.

His thick eyebrows shot upward. “Lady, I don’t care if they sent you from Narnia. If you think for one second I’m gonna pay some ninny on a brush hog I never hired to give my back field a haircut it didn’t need?—”

“We’re not the ninnies you’re looking for, so save your spleen,” she interrupted with so much energy that Jillian’s heart sank. Her mother-in-law was enjoying the altercation way too much. “We left our white flags at home, but consider them waved. We’re on your side, Mr. Wagner. As a matter of fact, we came to conduct your initial consultation to retain Dave Phillips’ legal representation in the matter. He’s my son,” she explained with a vague flutter of her hand toward their townhome.

Edward Wagner’s glare was replaced by a frown ofconfusion. “I thought my appointment with him was tomorrow.”

“It was.” Eloise breezed up the front porch steps, beckoning Jillian to follow her.

“With him,” Mr. Wagner added pointedly as she stepped closer, crowding his personal space. To his credit, he stepped aside and allowed her to march past him into his house.

She glared at his rifle as she brushed past him. “I’m beginning to understand why you need a criminal lawyer to settle your dispute with the HOA, Mr. Wagner.”

“Edward,” he called after her with a smirk, “and your name is?”

“Eloise,” she snapped, turning in a full circle to gaze up at the antique chandelier mounted in the entry foyer.

Jillian swallowed nervously as she entered the house. “I’m sorry my husband couldn’t keep his appointment with you. He’s out of town on a difficult case.” She drew a bracing breath. “From what we understand, he’s been ambushed and shot at.” She gave the rifle Mr. Wagner was holding a pointed look. “And otherwise intimidated to scare him off the case. As a result, his return flight has been delayed. In the meantime, my mother-in-law, a highly skilled paralegal, is more than capable of handling your dispute with the HOA.”

Mr. Wagner gave the rifle at his side a guilty glance. “I assure you it’s not loaded, ma’am.” He followed her into the surprisingly clean and well-furnished foyer and set it on a gun rack against the wall. Then he beckoned her and Eloise to follow him into the adjoining den.

Like the entry foyer, it was unexpectedly well kept. Comfortable overstuffed chairs and two gray linen sofas were tastefully arranged on a Navajo area rug. Against thefar wall, a stacked stone fireplace rose two full stories, ending in a peak against the vaulted ceiling.

Eloise made no bones about the fact that she was scrutinizing the room up and down, along with its furnishings and eventually its owner. “Why, you old goat,” she accused their reluctant host. “Your home is absolutely lovely. The painting over your fireplace alone is worth a fortune, which means you can well afford to mow your lawn and repair your shutters.” She folded her arms. “So why don’t you?”

Jillian glanced in surprise at the painting. It was a coastal scene in an array of muted colors that made her feel like she was looking through the mist at it. Both the painting and the antique gold frame around it was a tasteful addition to the room.

Their host grunted. “When you said you live in Naples…”

“I was referring to the actual Naples, yes.” Eloise sounded impatient. “Not one of the dusty little towns that likes to borrow fancy-sounding names to make their residents feel more important.” She waved a hand languidly at the painting. “That’s the view right outside my living room window.”

Edward turned his back on them as he strode closer to the painting. “My wife always wanted to visit Italy, but I reckon we waited too long. After she got sick…” He stopped and cleared his throat.

Eloise and Jillian exchanged a sympathetic look behind his back. It went without saying that his wife’s death had likely started him down the path of peeling paint and loosened shutters. They hadn’t merely paid a visit to a cranky neighbor. They’d stormed into the private sanctuary of a grieving one.

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