James White slammed down his phone yelling expletives to no one. "Who does he think he is? Sold!.. Sold!.. How dare he sell my family home with not so much as a notice to me!" James paced the floor, his face as red as the scarlet window treatments in his office. "I must get it back.. everything.. everything.. relies on this.. I'm sure my mother had something to do with this".. James pulled out his address book and began searching through its contents. "I know everyone mother knew, I'm sure she would have used father's attorney for the sale". Flipping through the pages James finally spotted the one name he was searching for "Arthur J. Greeley, Attorney at Law".. James quickly walked to the phone and dialed "Well, Mr. Greeley, we are going to have a little chat you and I.. Hello? Yes, I would like to speak with Attorney Greeley.. Out? Where?? When will he be back.. No!! I do not wish to leave my name and number.. I'll call back".
James was not a man who was used to being told no. In fact, in his entire 45 years of life the only person to ever get away with telling him no was his mother. James had not thought of his mother in many years. At the age of 20 his mother had disowned him and demanded he leave his family home on Spruce Street. The home had belonged to the White family since his great grandfather Jeremiah built it in 1889. No one has ever lived in that home who was not a member of the White family and if James had his way, no one other than he ever would.Patrick McReynolds wasted no time after his call with James White. He had placed a similar call to Mr. Greeley only to be told the same information about the attorney, he was out of town for a family function and would not be back till the following Monday. "Today's only Thursday, can this wait till Monday?" he thought.. Patrick looked out his window across the town of Greenville. It was an old New England town, full of history and families who had been here since almost as long as the Pilgrims. In fact, he was pretty sure that if you looked deep enough into some of the families lineage you would find direct connections to some of those who came over on the Mayflower. Until today, this town seemed as it always had, a quiet old seaside village.. Somehow, that quiet was shattered with one simple phone call.
Patrick remember James White. In fact, they were schoolmates at the private preparatory school St. Anthony's. Patrick's one recollection of James was that he had a terrible temper. On more than one occasion the school master had to discipline James due to his temper. James never seemed bothered by being disciplined, it was almost as if that was what he wanted. Patrick always wondered why, but never dared to ask. "If James White is angry, he will be on he warpath.. I need to be prepared.. but who can I call, what can I do?" Patrick's head began to swim and he could feel the ground beneath him begin to give way.. He grabbed a hold of the corner of his desk, he reached in his pocket for his blood pressure pills.. He gently eased himself over to the water cooler and grabbed a cup and quickly took his medication.. "I can't do this alone.. I know who I have to call.. I can only hope that they are willing to assist me.. I don't have any other options"..
Patrick sat at his desk and went to his address book.."Never thought I'd be calling you again" he said looking down at the name.. Patrick dialed and waited.. One ring.. Two rings.. Three rings.. "Maybe I should hang up" he thought just as the phone was answered "Phillips residence, may I help you"? Patrick swollowed hard... "Barston, is that you? This is Patrick, Patrick McReynolds.. I need to speak with Ms. Phillips.. Yes.. it's quite important Barston.. thank you, I'll wait".. With that Barston was off to find Ms. Phillips, Ms. Samantha (McReynolds) Phillips, Patrick's ex-wife. "McReynolds.. I sure hope you know what you're doing.." he thought.. "Hello? Patrick? Is that really you? What on earth could you be calling me for"?
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