Second To Cry. Carys Jones

down on the intercom on his desk and it crackled to life.

      ‘Betty?’

      There was a brief pause and then a response came, marred by static. Aiden struggled to see the need for the intercom. They would be better served by either installing an internal phone system or by physically leaving the office and walking the minimal distance to the communal waiting area and Betty’s desk.

      ‘Yes, Mr Copes?’ Betty asked, her voice further aged by the poor line of communication.

      ‘Could you bring us two coffees and we also need to pick your brains about something.’

      ‘I’ll be right in.’ Betty confirmed.

      Edmond would no longer ask whether Aiden wanted a coffee. Working just the two of them, in such close proximity, he had soon picked up on his preferences and now they each intuitively knew when the other would be wanting some sort of beverage or snack.

      Aiden knew that if he was popping out to lunch, Edmond would also be most grateful if he picked up something sweet from the bakery across the street. And though Betty would also protest an offered Danish or doughnut, eventually she would concede and agree to eat one, simply, she stated ‘to stop it going to waste.’

      There was a nice atmosphere within the office. In there at least Aiden felt accepted and a part of something. He wished those feelings extended to the rest of Avalon, he just had to keep hoping that in time they would.

      Barely five minutes had passed when Betty entered with a small tray, upon which were balanced two steaming mugs of coffee.

      ‘Thank you, Betty,’ Edmond beamed, suddenly wishing he’d requested a snack to accompany his drink.

      ‘Yeah, thanks, Betty,’ Aiden said as he got up and took his mug from the tray.

      ‘What did you want to ask me about?’ Betty enquired after placing Edmond’s mug down, now holding the empty tray by her chest like a shield.

      ‘Samuel Fern,’ Edmond told her bluntly.

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘How easy is he to get hold of? I mean, does he accept visitors? Do people just make appointments to go out to the ranch?’

      ‘Oh, um…’ Betty pondered for a moment. ‘I’ve only dealt with him through my church group,’

      Edmond glanced over at Aiden when she said this, with an expression which said, ‘see, I knew she’d know something’.

      Aiden had to admit that Betty was always an invaluable source of local knowledge. If ever Edmond didn’t know something, which was rare, Betty almost definitely would. Together, Aiden wagered there was nothing the pair of them didn’t know about Avalon and its residents.

      ‘We never went out to his ranch; it was more to invite him to functions. I think he had a secretary who dealt with that sort of thing. I will try and find her number if you like?’

      ‘Yes thanks, Betty, that would be helpful.’

      ‘Does his secretary live out at the ranch?’ Betty had made to leave, but Aiden called her back with his question.

      ‘I believe so, yes.’

      ‘Okay, thanks.’ Aiden wasn’t sure why it mattered where Samuel Fern’s secretary was based, he was just trying to put together a clearer picture of the man.

      Betty left and Edmond surreptitiously made his coffee Irish which Aiden pretended not to notice.

      ‘So you’ve never had to deal with Samuel Fern before?’

      ‘Only his will,’ Edmond reminded him. ‘And he came here to do that. I see him on the golf course and we chat. He seems a nice guy, much nicer than his brother.’

      ‘Okay,’ Aiden nodded.

      ‘Although,’ Edmond now lowered his voice, ‘if anything happens with this paternity case, he will need to re-write his will.’

      ‘Oh. So is his wife due to get everything?’

      ‘The lot.’ Edmond said dramatically. ‘Her and the sons, obviously.’

      ‘Yeah.’

      Aiden wondered about this. How could a man go from being so certain about a woman that he would leave everything to her, to wanting a paternity test to prove he had fathered her child? It seemed extreme to change your opinion of someone so drastically.

      The intercom on Edmond’s desk suddenly came to life again, with Betty’s voice echoing out of it.

      ‘I’ve got that number for you,’ she informed them.

      If the number had been for Edmond, Betty would have dutifully brought it in, however, since it was Aiden’s case, he would be expected to go and collect it from her. Betty still regarded Aiden as a new employee and, in her eyes, had yet to earn the level of respect she reserved for Edmond and previously his late partner.

      ‘I’ll go get it,’ Aiden said, momentarily excusing himself.

      The air in the main waiting area felt fresh and light which made Aiden assume that Betty must have had the door open for some time. Outside the sun was still shining brightly so he couldn’t blame her for wanting to capture some of that beautiful weather indoors.

      ‘Samuel Fern’s secretary is called Rita Moore,’ Betty told him, handing him a Post-it note upon which she had written a number in her delicate cursive writing.

      ‘Right, okay.’

      ‘So if you call her, she can arrange an appointment for you to go and see him.’

      ‘That’s great. Thank you, Betty.’

      Aiden glanced down at the number, thinking it strange for a man who had retired to need a secretary. Especially considering he’d been working in the oil industry, he was hardly a celebrity. It just seemed a bit extravagant, but perhaps Samuel Fern was. Aiden would soon find out first hand just what the man was like.

      The office seemed stuffy after the freshness of the waiting area so Aiden opened the window closest to his desk. The air was warm and peaceful as it filtered in. Not like his old office, where you couldn’t open the windows as the sound of the traffic roaring past the building was so loud it would prevent you from working.

      Edmond was now engaged with his own work so Aiden didn’t disturb him with further idle chat. Instead he dialled the number Betty had just given him. After three rings someone picked up.

      ‘Good morning, the estate of Samuel Fern, how may I help?’ came a sharp female voice.

      ‘Oh, good morning. My name is Aiden Connelly, I’m hoping to make an appointment to see Mr Fern—’ Aiden went to give further details but the lady on the phone cut him short.

      ‘I’m sorry but Mr Fern isn’t taking appointments at the moment.’

      ‘Ma’am, I’m his lawyer,’ Aiden explained.

      ‘What did you say your name was?’

      ‘Aiden Connelly.’

      ‘Just one moment, Mr Connelly.’

      Aiden waited patiently as he was put on hold and made to listen to what sounded like whalesounds. He presumed it was meant to have a calming effect but it just left him feeling annoyed.

      After several minutes the whale song ceased and Samuel Fern’s secretary returned, her voice noticeably softer than when she had originally answered.

      ‘Mr Connelly, Mr Fern would like to see you as soon as possible. Are you free this afternoon to come by the ranch?’

      Aiden felt caught off guard at the immediacy of the meeting. He figured he’d get to see Samuel Fern later in the week, not so swiftly as thesame day.

      ‘Let me check my diary,’ he stalled for time as he checked his online diary, knowing full well that he was completely