Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands cuffed behind his back, and while a small part of me squirms in satisfaction, I mostly feel aghast. No. I don't want that. I just want him gone, and Iron and Roses back.
    My dad pushes the portable house phone across the counter toward me. "Speaking of which, Mr. Hanscomb is awaiting your call."
    "Hi, Dad," I say, stepping over to take the phone and kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks."
    "Just hit redial. Breakfast will wait," he says, cutting off my mother. "Till this has been seen to."
    I nod and duck into the living room, sit in my dad's leather armchair and hold my coffee on my knees. I hit redial and press the phone to my ear.
    "Good morning," says Mr. Hanscomb. "Kiera?"
    I suddenly feel like a little girl again. Mr. Hanscomb has been a family friend as long as I can remember. My first memory of him is his treating me to a soda from the soda fountain in the pharmacy on River Street. Because he was always immaculately dressed and impossibly distinguished, I grew up thinking he was a wealthy aristocrat of some kind, and was shocked to learn that he was something as mundane as an attorney.
    "Hi, Mr. Hanscomb. How are you?"
    "Passingly well, my dear. I spoke with your father. He told me you're having difficulties?"
    I sigh. "Yeah. You could say that." And I tell him. He's a great listener, going hmm or "I see" at just the right moments. It's a sordid story, and I blush horribly when I recount not reading the paperwork as I should have. "So now I've got nothing."
    "Well." Mr. Hanscomb takes a moment to digest my story. "That is most unfortunate. But I do believe you can take Mr. Travis to court for fraud, and that your case has a strong chance of winning."
    "Really?" I sit up, suddenly excited. "That's wonderful!"
    "But I must caution you, this will take some time. If Mr. Travis decides to drag his heels in responding, we could be looking at anywhere from six months to a year before we appear in court."
    My heart immediately sinks. "But he could be selling my art by then!"
    "Yes, I understand. Whatever settlement is reached would include damages or reparations. Whether he will have the ability to repay them, if he has already spent that money, remains to be seen."
    My heart sinks even lower. I can just picture it. Marv realizing he's going to lose the case once he's summoned to court, and deciding to sell everything and spend all the money on a year of luxurious excess, only to declare bankruptcy again so he can give me a shit-eating grin from across the courtroom. Suddenly the idea of his being dragged off to jail really appeals to me.
    "So what do I do in the meantime?" I feel hopeless. Bereft. Lost.
    Mr. Hanscomb sighs. "That, I can't advise you on. I'm sorry, Kiera. This is a very hard situation to be in. With your permission, I'll begin the paperwork, and file a summons. That will get the ball rolling. Can you send me any paperwork you might have on Iron and Roses?"
    "Yes, I will, thank you." My voice is almost a whisper. I force myself to sit up. "Thank you, Mr. Hanscomb. For your help. I really appreciate it."
    "Of course," he says, voice kind and gentle. "I'll be in touch."
    "Goodbye," I say.
    "Goodbye, Kiera. Take care of yourself." And he hangs up.
    I stare at my phone, and then look up to where my dad is standing in the kitchen doorway, face grave.
    "A whole year!" I say, my voice both pleading and protesting. "It might take that long to figure things out, and if he's spent all the money, I might get nothing back beyond the rights to my art and my company!"
    "Which is still worth fighting for," says my dad, walking over to sit across from me on my mother's lavender couch.
    "Yeah," I say, staring down at my coffee. "But my art. My money."
    We sit in silence for awhile, my dad letting me process the blow. Finally he asks, "So. What are you going to do? You know you can stay here for as long as you need."
    "I know." It's a comfort, but a small one. What am I going to do? For a whole year? I want to go back upstairs