Love Is a Four-Legged Word Read Free Page A

more into cats. But he never said anything about money.”
    “Yeah, well. For his own reasons, he didn’t want anyone to know.” Tom O’Brien paused. “Maybe he wanted to be liked for himself.”
    Was that a loaded question? “He shouldn’t have had any doubts on that score. He was a real sweetie . . . I miss him terribly.”
    Maddy bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. She’d cried buckets over Walter in private. She wasn’t about to make a public display of her grief in front of this person who seemed to be implying that there was something untoward about her relationship with her landlord.
    The lawyer cleared his throat. “He seemed a charming gentleman.”
    “He . . . he was. And compos mentis until the very end. I still can’t believe he was rich and left it all to his dog.”
    She started to twist around the antique amethyst ring she wore on the fourth finger of her right hand.
    “So,” she said slowly, thinking out loud. “I guess this changes things, doesn’t it? For me, I mean.”
    Tom O’Brien nodded.
    Maddy continued to muse out loud. “If Brutus is a millionaire dog, he won’t need to live with me. I’ve gotten really fond of him. But, truth is, not having an animal in tow will make it easier for me to find another apartment.”
    She felt sad at saying good-bye to Brutus. Really sad. But there was relief, too. San Francisco landlords weren’t known for their fondness for dogs. Much as she loved animals, there wasn’t really room for a pet in her lifestyle.
    She braced herself. “So, when do I have to pack up and go?”
    “You don’t,”Tom O’Brien said.
    “I don’t?”
    He stood up. Maddy stood up, too, so they were more evenly matched. She didn’t like him towering above her, though even when she stretched herself to her full height he was still a lot taller than she was.
    “Ms. Cartwright, let’s cut to the chase.” His expression didn’t change. In fact, it turned a further degree of grim. “Under the terms of Walter Stoddard’s will, you are Brutus’s legally appointed guardian. Trustee of the fortune Walter left for the upkeep of his dog.”
    Maddy stared at him. Again. Her eyes opened even wider than the last time.
    “Now you’re really putting me on. Dogs don’t have guardians.”
    “This one does.” He put up his hand to forestall any further interruptions. “If the dog survives Mr. Stoddard by twenty-one days, as trustee you will have full control of his fortune.”
    Maddy felt as though the breath had been punched out of her body.
    “What?”
    She sat right back down on her chair feeling light-headed, dizzy.
    “What did you say?”
    “Do you want me to repeat it?”
    Maddy nodded. Tom O’Brien repeated.
    “I . . . I still don’t understand.” Walter had been a just and honest landlord and a friend. Or as good as a friend could be with a fifty-six-year age difference. But why this?
    “Mr. Stoddard’s fortune is held in trust for the dog—a trust administered by you, with provision for you.”
    “For me. I don’t get it? Why me?”
    “Let me read the will to you.” He rustled the pages and—rather self-importantly, Maddy thought—cleared his throat.
     
     
     
    Tom read out the terms of the will in careful, measured tones, trying not to let his disgust filter through. Through her guard ianship of the dog, this redheaded gold digger was set with a fortune.
    The straightforward document didn’t take long to read. Apart from a sizeable bequest to his church,Walter had left the bulk of his fortune in trust for Brutus. When the trust ended—on the death of the dog or after ten years—the residual funds went direct to Madeleine Cartwright.
    “That’s it?” Maddy asked.
    He nodded.
    “I . . . I’m still in shock . . .” she said.
    He had to give it to her. She did sound shocked. And her face had drained of all color. But then she might be a very good actress. Heaven knows what she’d done to convince Walter Stoddard to include