Private Lives

Private Lives Chapter Eight: To Lay Down the Hard Lines

Ichabod and Katrina are now back sitting and talking in his office. They've been back from the airport now for hours .

"You should do more for that bruise then put a frozen food pack on it," Katrina said." You should see a doctor."

She gave him back the ice package that sat beside her. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder.

"Duly noted." Ichabod took the ice pack and threw it on his desk again. Katrina watched it fall on the desk and turned back to look at Ichabod. She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. Her long soft Solomon pink boho dress lifted to expose her long tanned legs. She folded her hands and placed them on her lap. Katrina Van Tassel tilted her head and frowned at Ichabod.

"So, how did you get it again?" she asked. Her brow furrowed.

"My eye ran into an elbow," Ichabod said. His voice sarcastic.

Katrina lifted an thin eyebrow.

"Who's elbow, Daniels?" Katrina answered.

"No his sister, Abbie," Ichabod answered. He lifted his hand to scratch at his bearded cheek. It was suddenly Itchy and uncomfortable.

Katrina frowned. Her expression blank. Her green eyes are glassy as she stared at up at him.

"The one with the bottle capped glasses," Ichabod answered drily.

"Oh! Right Right," Katrina sighed. "So she's here already. I thought you said she was going to teach in the Fall?"

"Abigail, is working at the library for the Summer getting it in working order until she teaches in the Fall," Ichabod explained.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I look forward to seeing her again," Katrina answered.

Silence.

"What is it you really want, Katrina?" Ichabod said. "Why are you here?"

Katrina raised her eyes to meet his.

"What makes you think I want something? Maybe I just missed you and wanted to see you?"

Katrina sighed. Her green eyes fixed on him. Her long black lashes batted at him.

"Because, I've been married to you for ten years Katrina,"Ichabod answered. "And you could have mailed the signed divorce papers if you didn't want anything."

"Fine," she sighed."I need your help, Ichabod. Well, really dad needs your help. He doesn't know I'm here in the States asking you for it."

"I'm listening,"Ichabod answered. "What's happened with James?"

Ichabod kept his voice steady and calm, despite his worry. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned his shoulder on the large picture window. He looked below at the courtyard where students sat on the lawn and enjoyed the afternoon sun.

"He's in trouble, financial trouble," Katrina answered. "A con artist took all his money in a made-up get rich investment scheme."

Ichabod turned his head back to stare at Katrina. Katrina nodded.

"These crooks convinced dad to invest in an uncharted island in Scotland. They told him it was going to become a huge piece of expensive real estate and pay off big in two years," Katrina explained.

Ichabod had heard of scammers. Con artists that prey on the retired rich elderly. Thinking they were a soft target. The con artists were degenerate gypsies that promised rich retired men more money than they ever made when they were working. Only to disappear with all the money, leaving them with absolutely nothing.