Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight by Ann Mauren Read Free Book Online

the
difference?
    He must have known I was in there. I thought
for sure he’d be heading back to his truck on the street. But he
was still patiently waiting for me on the porch when I got to the
door after what seemed like a long time to me.
    “Good mornin’,” he began. “I have a
certified letter for uh…” he looked down to read it, “Eee…lary
Mayne?”
    He seemed to question his pronunciation,
rightly so.
    “Um, yes. That’s me,” I replied.
    “All righty then.”
    He secured the envelope to a clipboard and
handed it to me. There was a pen with a dirty looking string duct
taped to its top that secured it to the board.
    “I just need your signature right here,” he
said as he pointed to the line on the green form that was affixed
to the front of the letter.
    I made a mental note to be sure to wash my
hands first thing; no telling how many germs were on that pen.
    Once I signed, he tore the form off along
the perforations. Then he handed me my letter and slipped the green
form with my proof of delivery signature into an envelope taped to
the clipboard.
    “You have a good day now,” he offered
cheerfully and headed to his truck.
    He got back in and though my door was closed
now, I could tell when he stepped on the gas.
    My eyes turned to the upper left corner of
the envelope.
    “The Bank of Louisville?”
    I checked the address line. Sure enough, it
was addressed to “Ms. Ellery S. Mayne, 2300 Epton Lane,
Louisville…
    “Huh.”
    I went to the kitchen to open it. First I
washed up. Then I opened the knife drawer. It was one of my many
and oddball pet peeves to see people (well, primarily my mother)
rip open and destroy perfectly good envelopes when it was so much
neater to just use a letter opener. We didn’t have a letter opener,
however, so I guess I could understand my mom’s method, to an
extent. But we did have knives, and they worked remarkably well for
this purpose.
    Inside this intriguing envelope was a single
sheet, more Bank of Louisville letterhead. It notified me of a
trust that had been established in my name and that now I was of
legal age I needed to meet with the trust administrator to discuss
my rights and obligations.
    Obligations?
    It was signed by Dwight Matthews, Legal
Counsel, Trust Administration Department.
    “Huh.”
    I picked up the phone and started dialing.
The number connected me with his pleasantly efficient sounding
assistant. I told her my name and she put me through directly.
    “Hello Ms. Mayne. Thank you for calling so
promptly. I’d like to meet with you as soon as possible to discuss
your trust. And I’m sure you have a number of questions for
me.”
    He had a very friendly and relaxed manner,
which put me at ease.
    “Uh…yes sir…I suppose I do.”
    He didn’t know it, but I was still cruising
in shy mode.
    “Well that’s completely understandable. Now
how soon can you meet with me?” he asked.
    “Um…I’m available today, but I don’t drive,”
I informed on myself.
    He chuckled a little, no doubt at my greedy
enthusiasm and said, “Oh, that’s not a problem. I can send a car
for you if you’d like.”
    Although this had the feel of legitimacy, I
decided to use common sense and some caution. After all, how hard
would it be to fake some important stationery and use my own greed
against me to lure me in? I certainly didn’t want a repeat of the
‘perfume’ incident, though it might be interesting to see who would
rescue me this time.
    “No, that’s okay. I can get a ride. What
time should I meet you?” I countered.
    “I’ve got an opening from noon to two
o’clock today. I was going to order in some lunch for my staff
today. You can join us, if you’d like, then we can talk after
that,” he offered, putting me at ease again.
    He had a really nice sounding voice. If he
looked anything like he sounded he would be very handsome.
    I agreed and he gave me detailed directions
to his downtown office on Broadway, and his direct line in case I
got