AMES CAHILL, also known as Thing One, closed his eyes. Granted, Parker Welles was not his favorite person, but even so. Hearing it put so baldly…uncool. Her friend gave a little squeak. Otherwise, there was silence.

He glanced at the princess. She didn’t move for a second, then tucked her hair behind one ear, the tip of which was growing red. Otherwise, she just sat there, her profile to him. She crossed her legs. Said legs were flawless—long, smooth, perfect. Not that he was allowed to look at them—she’d put him in his place quite a while ago, and yes, she was being informed of her financial ruin, but man, those legs were incredible.

“Broke?” she said, then cleared her throat.

“That’s right,” Harry answered, petting the snake. “You’ve heard of broke, I assume?”

Now, James knew that Apollo was some kind of security blanket for Harry; easier to break the news to his only child if he had something else to look at. Their whole vibe was always wicked uncomfortable; James hated having to go to Welles family events, but if Harry invited him, he’d come along. It was the least he could do, given what Harry had done for him. Didn’t make things fun, though.

Parker took a deep breath, her breasts rising under her silky shirt. Nice. Focus, idiot. The perils of being a straight guy in the room with a beautiful woman. Even one who loved putting him down.

“What happened, Dad?” she asked, her voice more gentle than James had ever heard it. And “Dad.” He couldn’t say he’d ever heard her call him anything but Harry in the six years he’d been working for the guy.

Harry shifted Apollo to his other arm. “Just a bump in the road. For now, there’s no more money.”

“No more—”

“James, fill her in.”

“James, why don’t you fill her in?” Vernon echoed, parrotlike.

Right. Time to earn that salary. “Okay, well, it’s a little complicated,” he began.

She gave him a razor blade of a look. “Try me. I’m a Harvard grad.”

So much for her soft edges. And God forbid he forget that her blood ran crimson. James himself had gone to Boston University; once, he’d flirted with a Harvard girl and told her he went to BU. “Where’s that?” she’d asked, because if you went to Harvard, other schools didn’t exist.

She had, however, gone home with him.

“Magna cum laude,” Parker added.

“Should I kneel?” he asked. Harry snorted, and Parker’s mouth tightened. Not cool. James hadn’t meant to make it seem as if it was boys vs. girl here. Even if it kind of was.

Parker’s friend cleared her throat. “Um, Parks, you want me to, uh, get started on dinner?”

“I’d rather you stayed,” Parker said. Her tone was locked into rich-girl drawl. “Please continue, Thing One.”

Yes, Majesty. “It seems that Harry got mixed up in an insider-trading deal.”

She looked back at her father, who was stroking his snake. “Oh, Harry.”

“Let him finish,” Harry said, not looking away from Apollo.

James shifted in his seat. “Harry made a sizable investment in a company on which he’d had inside information—”

“I know what insider trading is,” she said.

“—and that was obviously unethical, but more to the point, the results weren’t what the information promised.” Okay, here came the hard part. “To cover the losses to investors, your father needed to, ah, liquidate certain assets.”

She blinked, and James felt a pang of sympathy for her as realization dawned in her eyes. “Which assets, Harry?” she asked, her voice calm.

Harry looked at the python. “Your trust fund.”

She looked at her hands, her mouth tight. “Granddad set that up for me.”

“Well, I’ve been managing it most of your life,” Harry snapped. There was a pause, and the grandfather clock in the corner ticked ominously. “Nicky’s, too,” Harry added in a softer voice.

James couldn’t help but wince. It had to hurt, hearing your father had sold you down the river. Your kid, too.

“You stole your grandson’s trust fund, Harry?” Her voice was harsher now.

Harry’s lips pressed together. “I’m the administrator of the Welles family trust, Parker, as you’re well aware. I liquidated it temporarily.”

“Liquidated it temporarily,” Vernon echoed, smiling like an idiot. James had almost forgotten he was here.

“How temporarily?”

“Yo!” came a voice. A shaggy-haired guy wearing overalls stood in the doorway. “Hey there, gang, sorry. Is this the Welles place?”

“It is,” Harry said.

“It’s awesome, man! Really nice! So, like, we’re the movers? Gonna start in the game room, okay?”

“Billiard room,” Harry muttered.

The mover laughed. “Totally! Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the candlestick! Dude, is that a snake? Nice! Okay, better get going. This place is frickin’ huge! See you later!”

Parker’s mouth was open. “They’re taking stuff already? I— Wow, Harry. You don’t mess around.”

Her face was pale now, and James wished he could, well, make this easier for her somehow. “Parker, anything that you bought for you or Nicky or the house is yours. Everything else, I’m afraid, falls under Harry’s assets, which the Feds have seized. The investigator is aware that you’re living here, and you have a little time to, ah, pack.”

“My God.” She squeezed her little finger and glanced at her pal, who was frozen.

“It’ll be okay,” Lucy murmured automatically.

Harry cleared his throat. “Obviously, Parker, having these vultures pick over our belongings is not my choice. I’ll get everything back.”

“Really,” she said faintly.

“Eventually. I’m a little…constrained for the immediate future.”

“A little constrained indeed,” Vernon said.

That was one word for it. James rubbed his forehead. Wicked headache coming on.

“So.” Parker shook her head. “About my trust fund, and Nicky’s. Don’t you need my signature to just…empty it? There must be something left.”

Nope. There was nothing, and Harry had only needed James himself to file the paperwork. Poor planning on her part, that was for sure. At any time since her eighteenth birthday, she could’ve taken full control of that money. When her son was born, same deal.

She never had.

“Your signature wasn’t required,” Harry said. “Nor was your consent.”

“Your consent was not required,” Vern said, nodding cheerfully. There was a crash and a curse from somewhere in the house.

Parker took a deep breath “Wow, Harry. So it’s gone? That was a lot of money.”

“Yes, Parker!” Harry barked. “I’m sorry to say you’ll have to make do for a while. Until I can recover some losses.”

“How long will that take, do you think?”

Again, Harry’s eyes sought out James.

Shit again.

“That’s undetermined right now,” James said. “Your father is being sentenced Monday morning.”

Parker’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Dad.” Twice in one day. “Can I do anything?”

“Like what, Parker?” he asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

“I’ll be fine. I have a great team.”

“A great team!” Vernon agreed.

Lucy got up from the window seat and went to Parker’s side. Took her hand. Good girl, James thought. Parker would be needing her friends, and so far as he could tell, Lucy here and the Paragon of Perfection otherwise known as Ethan Mirabelli were her closest. Or so it seemed from those dreaded family events he’d attended.

“It’s really nothing,” Harry said. “I’m not even sure I’ll have to serve any real time.”

James was sure. Oh, yeah. Harry was looking at somewhere around five years. His case wasn’t the clusterfuck that some Wall Streeters had been involved in of late, but it was a clear-cut case. And after Bernie Madoff and the Occupy movement, there wasn’t a judge in the country foolish enough to go easy on a case like this.

“As I said, you’ll have to move,” Harry added. “I’m hoping you’ll take Apollo.”

You know, James had to wonder sometimes what the hell was wrong with Harry. He loved the guy, yeah. But he was a pretty big idiot around his daughter. And yep, here it came.

Parker’s voice hardened. “Take Apollo? You’re worried about your snake, Harry? How about your grandson? The one you robbed? Where should I take your grandson, Harry?”

“I’m sure his father would take him.”

“I’m not living away from my son!” she exclaimed. Her ears were burning red now.

“You can both live with us, Parker,” Lucy said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“No! Lucy, thank you. But no. Harry, Ethan and Lucy just got married. I’m not moving in with them! What about your apartment? You could sell that and—”

“Parker,” James said as gently as he could. “The SEC has seized all your father’s assets. The apartment, this house, the place in Vermont…everything.”

She glanced out the window. “There goes the Steinway. Holy crap.” She swallowed, then looked at James, her expression bleak. “When do I have to be out?”

“They’ll leave your rooms for last,” he said. “You have till the end of the month.”

“This month?”

“This month,” Vernon confirmed.

She squeezed her pinkie again. “Okay,” she said, biting her lip. “Well, that’s… I was actually thinking it might not be a bad idea to move to a smaller place.”

“Smaller place. Not a bad idea,” Vernon echoed, and James resisted the urge to duct-tape his mouth shut.

“Let me go call Ethan, okay, Parker?” Lucy said.

“Okay,” Parker said distantly.

“Look,” Lucy said more firmly. “You’re not alone in this. Okay? I have some money put aside, and you’d do the same for me. We’re family.”

Harry made a rude snorting noise.

“Shut up, Harry,” Lucy snapped. “You should be grateful she has friends when her own father does this to her.”

Score one for Team Lucy.

“Thanks, Luce.” Parker said. “But it’s fine. I’ll be fine. But sure, go call Ethan. Fill him in.”

Whereupon the Paragon would no doubt charge up the driveway on his white horse and rescue the mother of his child. Which, no doubt, Parker would love. James sighed.

Harry was staring at the python, and James thought, not for the first time, that if he gave his daughter as much attention as he gave the snake, things would be a lot less chilly in the Welles family.

“So my trust fund’s gone,” she said. “The stock market’s not too bad these days. How’s my portfolio doing?”

Harry still didn’t look at her. “Anything you had through Welles Financial is now unavailable.”

“Unavailable?”

“I’ll get it back, Parker!” Harry snapped. “You have what’s in your checking account at the moment. Do you have anything in savings?”

“No! You told me the stock market was better than…well, what am I saying? You’re a felon. I took advice from a felon. Good God. I guess I should’ve stuffed some cash into the mattress.” Parker gave a shaky laugh.

Clearly the news was catching up with her. She ran a hand through her long hair, the strands falling back into place. Smooth, silky hair that— Been there, worshipped that, his conscience chided.

“I can believe you took my money,” she said. “But I can’t believe you stole Nicky’s. That’s really low, Harry. Even for you.”

“It was necessary,” he barked.

“For what? For covering your ass?”

James held up his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s just…let’s try to calm down. This is a lot to take in. Your father made a mistake—”

“How much did you lose, Thing One?” she asked abruptly.

James hesitated.

“Oh. I get it,” she said, and if looks could kill, James would be lying in a bottomless puddle of blood right about now. “So you knew. Well. Do go on.”

“You have six thousand dollars in your checking account, and since that’s in your name only, it’s free and clear.”

“I have to make a phone call,” Harry said, unwinding his pet and putting him back in the case. “Vernon, come with me, please. I need the information on the drug-company stock. Parker, James can fill you in on the rest.”

“There’s more? Are you going to beat me with a rubber hose, Thing One? I can’t wait.”

James waited till the study door closed, leaving him alone with Parker. And Apollo.

Nope, not alone. The mover was back. “Okay if we start on the dining room? Packing up that china’s gonna take a while. It’s really nice! Expensive, I bet.”

“Go for it,” Parker said. When he was gone again, she looked at James. “Is Harry really going to jail?” she asked, and James had to say, it wasn’t the question he imagined she’d ask.

“Yes. He went to the D.A. and confessed this morning, so that’s why it hasn’t been in the news yet. Monday morning, though…”

She gave him an odd look. “He confessed? That doesn’t seem like him.”

James looked at his hands. “Yeah.” There was that ticking noise again.

Parker sighed. “So, all this other stuff…Granddad’s boat and the paintings and Grandma’s china…it doesn’t belong to us anymore?”

He turned to face her. “Anything in this house that you personally bought stays with you—your clothes, artwork, your car, anything you bought for your son—but the rest will go to refund what Harry’s clients lost.”

“So I have no savings, no portfolio, no trust fund, and we have to move. Is that it in a nutshell?”

“Harry was able to secure another five thousand in cash for you.” James reached into his briefcase—a gift from Harry—and handed her an envelope, which she took automatically. “You have some jewelry that’s yours, right?”

“I guess so,” she said. James knew exactly what she had, as it was listed on the insurance forms. Nothing spectacular—some aging pearl necklaces, a few antique stickpins from her grandmother. All in all, maybe worth another couple grand. Parker wasn’t the type to drape herself in diamonds or redecorate or buy a sports car—she drove a Volvo Cross Country that was a good five or six years old. She didn’t even travel that much. She was more like the Welles family of yore—quieter, old-money New England wealth.

Harry was the new breed—make sure the world knew how much you had by spending every cent.

And even though she’d handed him his nuts on a platter a few years ago, he couldn’t help feeling really shitty about the whole situation. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said gently, and she cut her eyes over to him. Yikes.

“I suppose there was no way you could’ve given me a heads-up, Thing One.”

“No. I’m sorry. Attorney-client privilege.”

“Hope that lets you sleep at night.”

“Moving on,” James continued, “you do own the house in Maine.”

“Which house in Maine?”

Rich people. Honestly. “Your great-aunt Julia Harrington left you a house when she died six years ago. Ring a bell?”

She frowned. “Oh, my gosh, right. I was just about to have Nicky when she died. Where is it? I never did make it up there.”

James kept his expression neutral. How do you forget about inheriting a house? “The house is in Gideon’s Cove,” he said, handing Parker the folder. “North of Bar Harbor.” He knew the town…or he did once. His bachelor uncle owned a bar up there, and James had spent a couple of summers with him as a teenager.

“So I could sell that, right?” Parker asked, her expression brightening a little. “Sell the house and have a nest egg?”

“You could,” James said. He didn’t know which house was hers, though he had a copy of the deed. If he remembered, Shoreline Drive had some nice places on it.

“Fine.” She was quiet for a minute. “I’ll go up there when Ethan and Lucy take Nicky on vacation, slap on some paint and get it listed with a real-estate agent.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. His own experience was that life was rarely that easy, but for her sake, he hoped it was.

“You reminded her about the house?” Harry asked, striding back into the room.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“Good. Parker, James knows the area. He’ll go with you and check out the property.” Right. She’d love that. God save him.

“He’ll go with you,” Vernon agreed.

“No, he won’t,” Parker said. “But thanks all the same, Thing One.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Harry said sharply. “You’ll need help.”

Parker turned to James, her eyes about as warm as Apollo’s. “Thing One, my father is so very kind to offer your services, but no thank you.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “Do whatever you want. You always do. We’ll be in touch.”

“Harry,” she began, standing up. There was the pinkie squeeze again. “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He flashed her a toothy smile that was so far from sincere it made James wince. Then Harry strode back out, looking every bit the master of Wall Street he used to be, Vernon murmuring on his heels.

And James, he well knew, was expected to follow. He stood up, then turned to Parker, who was staring at the snake. “I’m really sorry about all this, Parker,” he said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

She gave him a look they must’ve taught her at her fancy prep school. I’m sorry, and you are…? “Save the ass kissing for my father, Thing One.”

Sigh. Some people never changed. “I mean it.”

“So do I.”

Okay, enough with the princess act. “I am good for some things,” he said. “As you might remember. Carpentry is one of them.”

“Really. How fascinating. Bye-bye, Thing One. And tell my father I’m not taking that snake.”

James stood there another minute, torn between guilt—his favorite pastime—the desire to help her in some way and the fact that he could see down her shirt a little bit from here. Fantastic view.

You don’t take anything seriously, do you? his father’s voice demanded in his head.

Hard to deny. “I loved the last Holy Rollers book, by the way,” he added.

“Then your IQ is even lower than I thought.”

He couldn’t help a smile. Parker looked away. “Call me and let me know what happens on Monday,” she said.

“Will do.” He picked up his briefcase and turned back to her. “See you in Maine.”

She shot him an icy look. “Not if I see you first. The gun laws are pretty clear about intruders on private property.” He said nothing. “Go, Thing One. Your master awaits.”

James obeyed. There was nothing else he could do.

For now, anyway.