Legal Artistry Read online

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  Dreamspinner Press

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Copyright ©2011 by Andrew Grey

  First published in 2011, 2011

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  To Dominic, Jennifer, and Vince.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

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  Novels by

  Andrew Grey

  Accompanied by a Waltz

  Dutch Treat

  Seven Days

  Work Me Out (anthology)

  A Taste of Love

  A Serving of Love

  The Bottled Up stories

  Bottled Up

  Uncorked

  The Best Revenge

  An Unexpected Vintage

  Legal Artistry

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  The Range Stories

  A Shared Range

  A Troubled Range

  * * * *

  The Children of Bacchus stories

  Children of Bacchus

  Thursday's Child

  Child of Joy

  * * * *

  The Love Means... stories

  Love Means... No Shame

  Love Means... Courage

  Love Means... No Boundaries

  Love Means... Freedom

  Love Means ... No Fear

  * * * *

  All published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  * * * *

  To Dominic, Jennifer, and Vince.

  Your input and support were essential.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Prologue

  Dieter hurried up the stairs and down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him, not thinking that of course his grandmother could hear every footstep he made. Slowing down, he stopped in front of the linen closet that was tucked beneath the stairs to the attic. Opening the door, Dieter ducked inside. He closed the door behind him and backed into the deep closet, careful not to knock anything over. He could barely see, as a thin line of light shone from under the door. Closing his eyes tight, he waited a few seconds before opening them again. Now he could see the outline of the shelves against the one wall that held all the linens, neatly sorted and stacked. Careful not to knock anything off, he inched farther into the closet, ducking under the tablecloths and quilts that hung from fat, fancy hangers, to where the ceiling started to meet the floor. Settling on the floor with a stifled giggle, Dieter knew he had found the best hiding spot yet, and he waited for Gramma to find him.

  Listening for the sound of Gramma's footsteps kept him entertained for a while, but when he didn't hear anything, Dieter began to inch toward the door and bumped into a box that scooted across the dusty floor. Obviously Gramma hadn't been in here in a long time, because she hated dust of any kind anywhere. Once, he'd heard Gramma say she was looking for dust bunnies under his bed. Dieter had immediately gotten onto his knees to peer under the mattress so he could see the bunnies. Gramma had laughed before running a broom covered with a cloth under the bed to clean. Pushing the door open a little, he suddenly heard feet on the stairs, and he closed the door again, moving to the back of the closet.

  "Dieter Johan Krumpf, come out of that closet this instant before you get all my linens dusty.” She'd used all three of his names—Dieter knew he was in trouble now.

  "Gramma,” he said, walking forward before pushing the door open and blinking into the light. “I was hiding and you were supposed to find me."

  "I was, was I? How about you help me with the dusting, and then we'll have milk and cookies. Katherine just took some molasses cookies out of the oven."

  "I can dust in there,” Dieter said, pointing toward the closet. “It's really bad, see?” Dieter turned around and heard his grandma hiss before she started to dust him.

  "You're filthy,” she said as she cleaned off his pants legs before swatting his butt lightly with the cloth. “There, that's better. Now, go get the dust mop from downstairs, and you can use it to clean the floor."

  Dieter looked up at her stern face and didn't move until she broke into a smile. “What is it? Scoot,” she said.

  "There's a box way in the back,” Dieter told her before hurrying back into the closet, ducking under the hanging things. Finding the box, he pushed it like a train across the floor. He would have made train-engine noises, but Gramma liked it quiet, and Dieter didn't want her to be mad. “See?” Dieter said happily as he pushed the box near her feet. He expected her to say something, but she slowly bent down and opened the box before gasping and putting her hand over her mouth.

  "I haven't seen these in twenty years,” Dieter's grandma said softly, and he straightened up, smiling proudly that he'd found what he imagined was buried treasure.

  "What is it?” Dieter asked, peering into the box.

  "They're photo albums and pictures from when I was a girl.” Dieter watched as his grandma carefully pulled out two thick books with black pages, setting each one on the floor next to the box.

  "Can we look at the pich-ers?” Dieter asked.

  "Yes, but only after we get our work done,” she answered, placing the albums back in the box. Dieter lifted the box off the floor, following his grandma along the hallway and down the stairs. Setting the box on the coffee table in the living room, per her instructions, Dieter hurried to the broom closet to get the dust mop and finish his chores.

  Back upstairs, he used the mop to clean the floors of all the closets, and he even pushed it under the bed the way Gramma did, before taking it back downstairs, displaying all the dust for inspection before Gramma took the mop outside to shake it. Dieter sat down at Gramma's round kitchen table. “Auntie Kate, can I have cookies?"

  "Of course you can, sweetheart,” she answered, handing him a small plate with three small, brown disks covered with white icing. He immediately took a bite and then another.

  "Auntie Kate, are you my real aunt?” Dieter asked as she set a glass of milk in front of him.

  "Don't talk with your mouth full,” she replied, and Dieter took a gulp of milk before swallowing everything.

  "No, honey,” Gramma answered from behind him. “Katherine isn't related to you by blood, but she loves you like you were her own. We both do."

  Dieter sputtered as he was kissed on the cheek by Auntie Kate, but he didn't wipe it off like he normally would. “Then how come she lives here?"

  "That's a story I'll tell you when you're old enough to understand.” That was Gramma's standard answer whenever she didn't want to explain something. “But Auntie Kate was the housekeeper and saw your Gramps when he was born and your mama when she was born.” Gramma had told Dieter once that Auntie Kate was eighty-two, which was really old, even older than Gramma.

  "And she saw me when I was borned?"

  "I sure did, sweetheart,” Auntie Kate said, giving him a hug, rocking him back and forth as she did. “I sure did.” Dieter put his arms around her, hugging Aunt Kate back before returning his attention to what was really important—the cookies.

  Once the plate was empty and the dishes whisked away, Dieter and G
ramma sat on the sofa in the living room with one of the photo albums on their laps. Auntie Kate sat in a nearby chair knitting a pair of mittens that Dieter knew were probably for him for Christmas. But he'd learned already not to ask if things were for him. Gramma said it was selfish. Dieter opened the album, looking at the photographs. “Where's the colors?"

  "Pictures were only in black and white then,” Gramma said, and Dieter looked at the first picture.

  "Who's that?” He reached to touch the picture. But Gramma gently stopped his hand.

  "That's my father, your great-grandfather.” Gramma pointed to the picture next to it. “And that's your great-grandmother.” She turned the page, and Dieter saw pictures of them sitting together on a small sofa in front of a painting. “Is that her?” Dieter pointed to the painting hanging just behind them.

  "Yes, it is,” Gramma said softly, and Dieter looked at her, wondering what was wrong. He'd only seen her cry once, and that was at his mama and daddy's funeral. Before he could ask any more questions, she turned the page, and Dieter saw more pictures of people. Gramma explained who everyone was, and Dieter listened, committing what Gramma said to memory as best he could. “What happened to them?” he asked, turning back to the first page of the album.

  "I'll tell you when you're older,” Gramma told him, and he looked into her eyes, about two seconds from asking again, but stopped himself and turned back to the photo album. She turned to the page where they'd left off and began telling stories about what it was like growing up, and Dieter wondered what it would be like to live in these pictures. After a while, Dieter lost interest in the pictures and slid off the sofa.

  "Can I go outside?” he asked, looking out the living room windows.

  "Yes, you may,” Gramma answered, “but stay where we can see you, and don't go near the street."

  "I won't,” Dieter promised as he pulled open the front hall closet door, pulling his coat off the hook before shrugging it on.

  "Come here, sweetheart,” Auntie Kate said, and he walked to her. She made sure he was all zipped up before giving him a hug. “Have fun."

  Dieter ran through the house and out the back door. Rushing into the garage, he carefully worked his bike out from next to Gramma's car. He had to be careful of the training wheels, but as soon as it was free, he hopped on and rode down the short driveway and onto the sidewalk in front of Gramma's East Side Milwaukee home. Auntie Kate had given him the bike for Christmas. The tag had said it was from Santa, but Dieter knew better. He'd heard Gramma and Auntie Kate fighting over it when they thought he'd gone to bed.

  "It's too dangerous for him to have a bike in this neighborhood. What if he gets hurt?” his grandmother had said, as Dieter snuck down the stairs on his butt so he wouldn't make noise.

  "What are you gonna do, Gertrude? Wrap him in cotton and wool? He's a little boy, and he needs to act like it,” Auntie Kate had said. “So he's getting a bike for Christmas if I have to walk to the store to get it.” A door had shut hard, and Dieter had slid back up the stairs, and a month later, he found a bike under the Christmas tree. Regardless if the card said “Santa” on it, he knew his Auntie Kate had given him his most prized possession, and he loved her for it.

  Dieter rode on the grass to turn around before pedaling as fast as he could back toward Gramma's. “Hey, baby!” He heard from behind him, and Dieter pedaled faster, but he was stopped anyway. “Nice bike, little baby."

  "Leave me alone, Billy,” Dieter said indignantly as he tried once again to pedal away.

  "I want to ride your bike!” Billy said, and he began to push Dieter toward the grass.

  "No. Leave me alone.” Then he was falling and Dieter found himself on the grass, and Billy was on his bike riding away. Dieter jumped up and began to chase him, but he was too slow, and his bike got farther away.

  "That's enough, Billy!” Dieter heard someone call from up ahead, and Billy stopped. Dieter saw someone approach his bike and saw Billy jump off his bike and run away. As Dieter got closer, he saw Tyler standing next to his bike, smiling at him. “Are you okay?” Tyler asked, and Dieter nodded, smiling as he touched his bike. Tyler turned it around for him and helped Dieter get back on. “You have fun, okay?"

  Dieter nodded again. “Thank you, Tyler."

  "You're welcome,” Tyler told him, and Dieter waved before riding away, back toward Gramma's. Tyler was one of the big kids in the neighborhood. Dieter didn't know how old he was, but Tyler stayed sometimes with Mrs. O'Connor, a friend of his grandmother's, and Tyler was always nice to him. Dieter continued riding up and down the sidewalk, waving to Tyler whenever he passed, and Tyler waved back as he cut stuff away from the bushes in front of Mrs. O'Connor's house, making them round instead of pointy.

  Once he got tired, Dieter rode his bike back down the driveway to the garage, carefully putting his bike away, taking care not to scratch Gramma's car. After closing the garage door, he hurried inside and took off his coat. “Don't forget to hang that up,” Auntie Kate reminded him.

  "I will,” Dieter said, walking to the closet and hanging his coat on the hook that was at his level. Closing the door, he walked into the living room. Gramma still sat on the sofa with the photo album on her lap. Dieter scooted up next to her, looking where she was at the picture of her mama and papa. “Do you miss them?” His grandmother nodded. “Like I miss my mama and papa?” Dieter said as he leaned against her side, closing his eyes to try to hold back the tears that came sometimes.

  Gramma set the album on the coffee table, and Dieter found himself gathered into her arms and held tight. “I know you miss them,” she soothed him. “I miss them too."

  Dieter lifted his head off her shoulder, looking at the book. “Was your mama pretty?"

  "Yes, she was. Very pretty,” Gramma told him.

  "So are you, Gramma,” Dieter said, hugging her again. “Where is the painting now?"

  "It's gone. It's been gone for a long time."

  Just like his mama and papa.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Dieter parked his gram's old green Toyota in the only parking space he could find. Getting out of the car and dropping a few quarters in the meter, Dieter hurried down the sidewalk. Thankfully, the meters were free after six, so he only had to pay for a little more than an hour. Approaching the wine store, Dieter pushed open the front door, entering near pandemonium. There were customers everywhere. Dieter saw Sean helping customers, and he hurried to the office, dropping his jacket on the futon before returning to the sales floor. “Young man,” an older lady said as she approached him. “I need a case of this,” she said, pointing to the wine they'd been featuring, “but everyone's so busy."

  "No problem. Let me check in the back to make sure we have an unopened case, and I'll be right back.” Dieter walked to the stock area, locating the last full case of the Cabernet she'd requested. Placing it on a cart, he wheeled it up to the register area, setting it out of the way before returning to the customer. “I have your case by the register for you,” Dieter told her, and she began handing him loose bottles, which he carried to a table behind the register. Dieter continued to help her until she was ready to check out. He thanked her before moving on to help another customer find a special Chardonnay that wasn't too oaky.

  After a good hour or so, the flow of customers diminished, and Dieter was able to catch his breath. “You didn't have to come in,” Sean said from behind him. “I understand that you've got a lot to do."

  The work and being busy had pushed his grief aside for a while, but now it threatened to come forward again. “I needed to get out of the house and do things that are normal."

  Sean nodded slowly. “I'm sorry about your grandmother. She was a special lady,” Sean told him seriously.

  "I wanted to thank you and Sam for coming to the funeral. It meant a lot. She outlived most of her friends, but it was still sad to see so few people there.” His grandmother's funeral had no more than a few dozen attendees. It ha
d been small and solemn, especially for Dieter. Leaning quietly against the counter, Dieter felt the sadness and loneliness of the last week begin to catch up with him.

  "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

  Dieter shivered slightly. “About some things. Gram left me everything, including the house. I haven't decided if I'm going to sell it or not yet, but the place needs to be cleaned out, and there are things I'm not sure what to do with."

  "You know you don't need to make these decisions now,” Sean cautioned, and Dieter nodded his head blankly.

  "I know, but the entire place reminds me of her, and it needs so much work. I'd like to fix it up, but I don't have the money to do some of the repairs that are needed.” Dieter had started making a list, and he'd been a bit overwhelmed by what he'd come up with. “Some of them I can do, but some are going to be really expensive. The attic is full of stuff, and some of it looks really old, but I'm not sure what to do with it."

  "What about school? You still have a year left, right?"

  "Yeah. I have the money for tuition,” Dieter told Sean. “Gram put all the money my parents left when they died in a fund for me. All those years, she never used a cent of it for herself.” Dieter reached across the counter and grabbed a napkin, using it to wipe his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he added, embarrassed at his display.

  "Like I said, your grandmother was quite a lady. You know, when she was in the store once, she told me that her greatest wish was to see you graduate from college. I thought she'd make it, too. She was a force to be reckoned with right up until the end."

  Dieter sniffed and wiped his eyes again before stuffing the napkin in his pocket. “She told me that too. Before she died, she made me promise I would finish regardless of what happened to her.” She'd had a stroke, and at the end she could barely talk, but she'd made her wishes abundantly clear to Dieter. “At least she went quickly and didn't linger. She always said that was what she wanted.” The door to the store opened, and Dieter excused himself before going to greet the customer. He needed something to think about other than Gram's death.