Read Online 1503951243 by Laurel Saville - Free Book Online Page A

wanted in Canada and had them shipped down. He may not have been aware when he bought them, but the logs were far too good of a deal, Warren told Miranda, even though he suspected her father knew and enjoyed what he had done, putting one over on those who had tried to stand in his way.
    Miranda frowned in confusion.
    They’d been harvested illegally, Warren explained. People kept track of this sort of thing.
    Then there was his contractor. He had done some things he shouldn’t have. Maybe he did them on his own without telling Chick the ramifications, or maybe he did them at his client’s direction. There was no way to know now. But the house was much bigger than had been officially permitted. The septic, well, and driveway were not to code. These things would be serious issues anywhere, but especially in the Adirondack Park. Somehow, all this illegal work had been signed off on by the building inspector. Hard to say whether he was dumb and lazy or had been paid off. Even if he hadn’t noticed the violations, the neighbors had. Two had sued her father. One because the septic was leaching near his property; another because her father had dug out part of the stream to create that swimming hole and thereby disturbed prime fish habitat, and because an outbuilding her father had constructed was never permitted.
    Meanwhile, the contractor had gone bankrupt and sued her father for incomplete payment. Chick had claimed shoddy workmanship. There was no way to know what really transpired between them. The contractor had since left the area. The building inspector who had signed off on the illegal work had retired on disability he claimed came from falling while on the job. People had seen him golfing. Not so disabled. The new inspector had been nosing around and didn’t like what he was seeing. The former building inspector had had a large garage built but could not document paying for it. He had made other home improvements as well. The now-bankrupt contractor had done the work but never issued a bill. It was not clear who paid for it.
    Warren paused in his story. Sighed. Then explained that there were suspicions Miranda’s father had paid for the work at the inspector’s home and rolled the charges into the work for their log home, in order to get the inspector to ignore the obvious infringements. Then he may have stiffed the contractor, who couldn’t exactly sue for payment of illegal work.
    Miranda listened in silence. In shock, Warren feared.
    Finally she whispered, “I had no idea.”
    “Of course not,” Warren said.
    “But it sort of makes sense,” she said. “I mean, I remember some things.”
    Warren decided now was not the time to discuss the risky investments Chick Steward had made, many of which had gone sour, or the soon-to-come cutoff of his employer-supplied health insurance.
    “What do I do?” Miranda whispered.
    “What do we do,” Warren said. “I am here to help you. You will not, cannot, do this alone.”
    Had he lived, Warren explained, her father might have been able to extricate himself from the mess, but without him here, it seemed the best strategy was to help her find a way to cut the losses, staunch the bleeding, and try to get a fresh start and a clean slate. An unburdened future, Warren added.
    Miranda blinked at him and nodded.
    Warren told her what he needed right away was for her to get some paperwork signed by her mother—perhaps by her mother’s doctors, if she was truly incapacitated—so Miranda could get power of attorney. Then he could act on her behalf. Something he assured her he wouldn’t do without consulting her. He promised complete transparency.
    “For now,” he said, sighing with relief at the sound of a door opening and closing in the outer office and the footfall of boots on the rug, “go home and get some rest.”
    “I feel a bit shaky,” Miranda said.
    “I can imagine,” he said, taking her elbow. “I called Dix. He’s here now. He’ll take you