Page 35 of The High Tide Club
“Do you have a few minutes to chat? It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. Can you give me the condensed version?”
“I’ll try,” Brooke said. “Have you ever heard of Josephine Bettendorf Warrick?”
“Of course,” Gabe said promptly. “The queen of Talisa. My dad was a friend of her late husband, Preiss. I met her a couple of times, years ago, when she and Preiss came up here for parties and such. Is she your new client?”
“Yes.”
He whistled softly. “Did she dump her Atlanta law firm? Schaefer-Moody?”
“I wouldn’t say she dumped them. But if you know Josephine, you know she’s, um, fairly headstrong. And eccentric.”
“What’s she want from you?” Gabe asked.
“She wants me to keep the State of Georgia from condemning her house and the rest of the island. They want to annex her land into the existing state park on the other end of the island. They’ve made her an offer, and they’re pressing hard.”
“How much?”
“Six million.”
“For the house and how much land?”
“Twelve thousand acres, give or take.”
“I’ve never set foot on that island and I can tell you right now that’s a bullshit offer,” Gabe said.
“I agree. She’s got the only deepwater dock on that end of the island, all the beachfront, and the only freshwater supply on the island. And get this—the state paid her cousins three million for their little bit of the island back in the seventies. That’s where the existing state park is located now.”
“So, obviously, you need to fight the condemnation,” Gabe said. “Look, Brooke. I need to get to my appointment. Here’s an idea. I’ll be down at my place on Sea Island over the weekend. You’re not that far from there, right? Why don’t you come up and have dinner with me, and then you can give me more details and we can throw around some ideas.”
“This weekend?”
“Yeah. I’ve got something Friday night, but I could do Saturday, or even Sunday night if I don’t head home until Monday morning. What do you say?”
Brooke sighed. “I don’t know, Gabe. That’s so generous of you, but the thing is, it’s tough getting a babysitter on weekends.”
“You’ve got a kid?” He sounded shocked.
“Henry. He’s almost three. That’s another long story. Look. My mom is coming down to stay with us, and I guess maybe I could get away for a couple of hours. Is there any way I can let you know over the weekend?”
“Why not? I’m going to be on Sea Island anyway. You’ve got my number, so just call or text me. I won’t make dinner reservations at the club until I hear from you.”
Brooke grinned. “Thanks so much, Gabe. Really.”
17
“Where’s my little fella? Where’s my sweet Henry?”
Marie Trappnell arrived at Brooke’s house shortly after 6:00P.M.on Thursday night with a rolling suitcase and a gigantic tote bag overflowing with groceries and wrapped gifts. She swept past her bemused daughter and into the house.
Hearing her voice, Henry sped across the living room and flung himself at her knees, repeating his name for his grandmother over and over again. “Ree! Ree!”
Marie plopped herself down on the floor and gently pulled him onto her lap.
“Oh, my sweet boy! My poor angel.” Marie kissed his face and the top of his head. She looked over at Brooke. “He’s breaking my heart. I’m not hurting him, am I?”
“He’s not made of glass, Mom,” Brooke said. “It’s been six weeks and he’s fine. Just don’t fling him around the room.”
