Maxwell Firth displayed a toothy grin as he stood tall, and pulling his billfold from his pocket, he slipped a photo out of its vinyl protector. Bending down again, he showed Addison the photo. “You see this? Well, these are my sons, and all three are studying business and law. I may not be able to get my hands on your company during my lifetime, but you won’t live forever, Addison, and when you die, trust me, they’ll be there to scoop up your company, lock...stock...and barrel.”

Firth straightened again, squaring his shoulders as he looked down his nose at Addison. “Enjoy your meal, Kane,” he said as he finally acknowledged Joanna with a cursory glance, but unable to resist, he leaned in Addison’s direction one more time. “Actually, Kane, enjoy them both. She does look like quite the stunning entree...or would that be dessert?”

Joanna watched as the man walked away, and when she turned back, she saw Addison empty what remained of the Chardonnay in her glass in one swallow.

“Are you all right?” Joanna said.

Addison offered the slightest of smiles. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Who was that?”

“His name’s Maxwell Firth. He was the man who helped my father write such a crafty will.”

“Oh, he’s a lawyer.”

“Was, or maybe still is. I don’t know,” Addison said with a shrug. “He fancies himself an industrialist now.”

“Like you?”

Addison let out a snort. “Yes, but with a lot fewer hash marks in the win column.”

“I see,” Joanna said, looking over to where Firth was sitting. “Wasn’t he at Bradley’s party? He looks familiar.”

“Yes, he was, for the same reason I was,” Addison said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, so between that and the will...no love lost?”

“None whatsoever.”

“And the bit with the photo of his sons? What was that all about?”

“It was just his way of—” Addison stopped and shook her head. “You know what? It’s not important. It was just Firth being Firth, and frankly, he’s not worth my time.”

“No?”

“No,” Addison said, reaching across the table to take Joanna’s hand. “Tonight, I just want to enjoy an evening with my...with my wife.”

“Still having a hard time saying that?” Joanna said with a giggle as she picked up her wine.

“Less and less every day.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Much to Addison’s dismay, it was nearly two months before her bedroom could be renovated. Samson had prior commitments that filled his schedule until June, and since Joanna and Lucinda had chosen items made-to-order or not stocked locally, for the next eight weeks, Addison made the trip back to her bedroom each and every morning.