Guilty Passion Read Free

“Contest?”
    Morrison said cautiously, “Possibly.”
    Celeste said, “But if Alec—”
    â€œAs your legal adviser,” Morrison interrupted her, “I think it would be best to say nothing at the moment.” His eyes briefly met Ethan’s, then moved back to her.
    â€œBut. . .” she started. Then obediently she lapsed into silence.
    â€œWill you be returning to New Zealand?” Morrison asked her.
    â€œI. . . I haven’t thought about it. The house is leased, so I can’t go back there. But I can’t stay in this flat. The university will want the place.”
    â€œThe lease—it’s all paid up?”
    â€œI believe so. I think it was paid six-monthly in advance. Alec handled all that sort of thing.”
    â€œSo the money will be. . .?”
    â€œI suppose. . . in one of his investment accounts.”
    Morrison frowned. “Have you any money of your own?”
    Celeste shook her head.
    â€œYou do have a joint account of some sort?” the lawyer asked.
    â€œJust for day-to-day expenses. Alec put some money in it each month for me to draw on.”
    â€œWhat about insurance policies? Did he have any that I don’t know about?”
    â€œI don’t think he believed in them.”
    â€œIn other words,” Aunt Ellie said loudly, “he’s left you with no home and practically no income.”
    Morrison cleared his throat. “She does own the house. I persuaded him to put it in joint ownership at the time of purchase, when they were married. If we could prove where the lease money is. . .”
    â€œYou don’t need proof,” Ethan said flatly. “I’ll make over the amount to Celeste straight away. There’s no doubt she’s entitled to that.”
    â€œIt’s not so simple,” the lawyer objected. “Probate will take about three months and,” he lowered his voice and said to Celeste, “if there’s a question of the will being contested, the process could take longer.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Aunt Ellie demanded. She turned to Ethan. “What’s he saying?”
    â€œI should really discuss things with my client in private.” Morrison was beginning to look flustered.
    â€œI don’t mind,” Celeste said listlessly. “Ethan is involved, too, and Aunt Ellie is a relation. . . well, of Alec’s.” She turned her head away a little, almost as if removing herself from the conversation and leaving it for them to sort out.
    Aunt Ellie said, “The girl’s exhausted. She needs a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
    â€œI have to go back to New Zealand,” Morrison explained patiently. He glanced at Celeste’s admittedly pale face and fished a card from his pocket. “Look, here is the address of our Sydney associates. When you feel up to it, contact them, and they can get hold of me then, okay?”
    She took the card and said without reading it, “Thank you.”
    â€œAnd if you need money in the meantime, get in touch. We’ll work something out.” He glanced at Ethan, who looked back at him with a hint of grim amusement. He concluded that the lawyer thought Celeste had a case for argument over her share of what Alec had left, and that he didn’t want her to accept money from Ethan in case it could be construed legally as some kind of settlement.
    Morrison left the copy of the will and took his leave. Ethan followed suit, scribbling the address of his hotel on a piece of notepaper and leaving it on the table. Aunt Ellie declined the offer of a shared taxi, declaring her intention of making sure Celeste went to bed early with a hot drink and a decent supper inside her.
    At his hotel Ethan headed for the bar, where he downed a much needed whisky and ordered another, which he sipped with deliberation. He both wanted to be alone and dreaded it. Sitting in the busy bar, he let