Randy White - Seduced

She glared, then decided, “I guess I deserved that. How about we call a truce until we get things sorted out?”

I agreed, and moved closer to the desk. I was looking at an aerial photo of the citrus groves, the pasture, and Mr. Chatham’s cabin hideaway-Salt Creek Gun Club. A yellow highlighter divided the property into hundred-acre parcels.

“Harney wanted to give you the cabin, plus the river frontage and Reggie’s little shack. All the highway frontage is mine, except for this narrow little ingress-egress, which we’re somehow supposed to share.” She ran a finger along the access lane to illustrate, while I noted her careful phrasing. She’d said “wanted to give” instead of “Harney gave you.” Already, her mind was made up. She was not going to honor her late husband’s wishes.

I played along, and paid attention.

“My expert knows real estate,” she continued. “More important, he knows the citrus business. At first, he suggested we package our two hundred acres, get the zoning changed to commercial, and quietly offer it to some big-money developers he knows. Half the trees are dead anyway, so it made sense until he saw this.”

The leather-bound office ledger was placed in front of me. Two spiral notebooks were added. “This might be the real game changer,” she said. “When I told my guy-this expert-I’d almost thrown these books in the trash, he nearly had a fit. That was two weeks ago. He’s had time to do the research, to contact the right people and check everything out. Take a look. I had no idea of the potential value of what’s in there-but I’m fairly certain you do.” She tapped the notebooks for emphasis.

I opened the ledger instead. Inside, on the cover page, was a man’s bold handwriting in ink. I leafed through a few pages, seeing diagrams and notes, all related to citrus greening disease. “This belongs to Kermit Bigalow. His name and phone number, all his personal information, it’s right here plain to see.”

“So what?”

“I’ve got no right to be looking at the man’s personal papers. You don’t either, as far as I’m concerned.”

The woman stared with feline intensity. I got the impression she had been waiting for this moment. “Not according to my attorney. Kermit was contracted by Chatham Enterprises, L - L - C . Every scrap of work he did was proprietary. In other words, the company owns all his research and everything else he produced on our time. What’s the problem, dear?” Her smile lasted through a silence that forced me to make eye contact.

“I don’t care what your attorneys say. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair?” she chuckled. “At your age, if you believe life is fair, you’re in for a shock. The law doesn’t give a damn about fairness-or justice, for that matter. Are you sure it’s not something else?”

I closed the book and pushed it away. “This is between you, your lawyer, and Kermit. It’s none of my business.”

Her eyes moved to the ledger, then the notebooks. “Open one of those and you’ll change your mind. In his notes, you’re scattered all through there, including a diagram of your house and citrus grove. What tree is located where, even their approximate ages. He used your initials quite often. Come on, Hannah, do you still think this is none of your business? I know Kermit has the hots for you. That’s the real reason you’re upset, isn’t it?”

I looked away from the notebooks, worried about how much personal detail they contained. “I barely know the man,” I said. “We talked about citrus trees, mostly, but-”

“That’s not how I know,” she interrupted. “It’s the way he lit up when your name was mentioned. That Chatty Cathy kid of his couldn’t shut up about you and your boat. It was Captain Hannah this, Captain Hannah that, until I finally took him aside. Kermit claimed I was imagining things. But from the look on your face right now, I’d say…” The woman nodded as if she’d just confirmed something. “Why, you poor little fool. That was just one of many lies the bastard told Harney and me. God knows how many he told you. I hope you at least had some fun while it lasted.”

I got to my feet and collected my purse, saying, “His wife has no reason to be jealous. You don’t, either, if that’s your problem. This conversation’s over.”

Truth is, I felt numb and needed air.

“Jealous?” she said, sounding genuinely puzzled. “I don’t give a damn about a man like him. He was trying to steal your idea for a biotech patent. That’s why I kicked his ass off my property. Well, one of the reasons. Don’t you get it? You, your idea, all the research Kermit did-it all belongs to me now.”

Yes… she had been waiting to say those words. It was in the controlling way she motioned for me to sit down.

I remained standing. “Lonnie, what do you want? Just tell me, so I can be on my way.”

“Be sensible,” she said. “We have too much in common to be enemies. That’s all I’m asking. Kermit was in the process of filing a provisional patent. Do you know what that is? Of course you don’t. It’s a bunch of complicated forms neither one of us would understand.” She reached for another folder, then decided the evidence could wait. “He would’ve done it, too, if I hadn’t locked him out of his office. Be thankful for that, at least. If you don’t believe me, I can arrange a meeting with my attorney.”

“I’m still waiting to hear what it is you really want.” This I said calmly despite the tension I felt.

“If your patent idea works out,” she said, “we’ll split the profits, minus whatever expenses I pay out of pocket. In exchange, I want the property Harney left you; the cabin, and everything else that’s rightfully mine. And one other thing”-her eyes locked onto mine-“it’s not important to me, but my citrus expert is the obsessive type. He’s convinced you know the location of a very special orange tree. The mother tree, he called it. Is that true?”

This is what I’d been waiting to hear. “I knew it,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “You hired a crazy man to follow me. He almost killed me the other day. Is that what you want?”

The woman started to get up, then decided it was wiser to stay where she was. “What in the world are you talking about? This is business, for god’s sake. Calm down and listen. I don’t give a damn about orange trees or some damn disease, but I do care about my financial security. When an expert I’m paying talks about millions in potential profit, I’m going to take his advice. You should, too.”

“Answer my question,” I said. “You hired Larry Luckheim to bully and intimidate-”

“Larry who ?” The woman shook her head as if confused. “If you’re being followed, it’s because the word’s out, Hannah. People in the citrus industry talk. I guarantee, Kermit’s not the only one willing to steal your idea, or anything else, if there’s big money in it. How many people you think are combing this state right now, looking for some damn old tree? And not just your tree. Keep that in mind. There have to be others.”

I maintained eye contact. “Are there?”

Lonnie and her icy smile-I could picture her practicing in front of the mirror. “The two most dangerous animals on earth,” she said, “do you know what they are? I’ll tell you: stupid men and smart women. Hannah, the smart thing for us to do is to cooperate, join forces. You and your mother will never see one goddamn cent of Harney’s money if you don’t. Is that what you want?”

Her phone, which she had turned back on, rang. She looked, and said, “Oh shit, I’ve got to take this. Do you mind?”

She wanted privacy. Fine. The temptation was to put the ledger and the notebooks under my arm and march out the door. I could’ve done it. How would she stop me?