Peggy Moreland - A Willful Marriage

He was paying for services rendered by the innkeeper of Parker House.

Brett dropped a quarter in the slot and dialed the number he’d scrawled on the back of a business card. “I need to speak with John Thomas, please,” he told the receptionist who answered the phone.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Brett Sinclair.”

“Just a moment, please.”

He didn’t have to wait long before a man’s voice came across the line.

“John Thomas. May I help you?”

“I hope so. My name’s Brett Sinclair. I’m Christine Parker Sinclair’s son.”

There was a pregnant pause, then the lawyer said dryly, “I had hoped to hear from Christine, herself.”

Brett could hear the censure in the man’s voice, and fought down the anger it spawned. “I’m calling on her behalf.”

“She couldn’t trouble herself to make the call personally?”

“Christine Sinclair died six months ago,” Brett replied impatiently. “As her son and only living heir, I’m the executor of her estate.”

“I see.” There was another pause. “So that would make you sole heir to your grandfather’s property, as well?”

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