Chapter Four
Cole
Doc looked around the table and then back at Cole. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but just to be sure . . . Are you okay with everyone being here?”
His friends all jumped up, maybe a little bit horrified that they hadn’t even thought to ask whether they were welcome to stay for the awkward business-and-legality part of the day, but also, it seemed, a little bit horrified at the thought of leaving. Brynn and Sebastian started rattling off lists of things they needed to go do while Laila refused to meet Cole’s eyes. Her mouth was moving, but he had no idea what she was saying. She was probably just copying Brynn and Seb’s excuses.
Actually . . . yeah. That was it. He was able to make out the faint echoes of “. . . laundry . . . pack . . . Murrow . . . Sunup . . .” coming through her mumbles, though none of that had anything to do with the reality of her life.
They all hated the thought of not being there for him, and Cole loved them for it.
He laughed and pointed a finger down toward the chairs. “Sit down, you numbskulls.” No other explanation was necessary, and the three of them sat back in their seats without another word.
“Okay, then,” Doc began with a fond twinkle in his eyes. He slipped his fingers into the seal of the envelope and opened it up, then pulled out the trifold of white pages. Four pieces of paper. Maybe five.
Cole didn’t expect to feel any sadness right then, but all of a sudden, his throat constricted and he bit down on the right side of his bottom lip, just to keep things in check. Ninety years of life and family and investments and prudence and being a cheapskate but also surprisingly generous (not that Bill Kimball ever would have allowed most people to know that) and loving a town an irrational amount despite being its most unyielding critic . . . This was what was left to show for it. Whatever was in those four pieces of paper. Maybe five.
“Scoot.” He looked at Laila to his right, instructing Sebastian to make room for her. Without another word being spoken, Brynn scooted into Laila’s seat, Sebastian scooted into his wife’s former chair, and Laila sat down next to Cole, grabbing his right hand in both of her small, delicate ones.
“I’m fine, Lai,” he whispered to her.
“I know.”
How had she always been able to do that? To detect his mood, correctly assess it, and provide the perfect amount of support in less time than it took most people to slip off their shoes when they walked in the front door of their homes at night?
In their group, Cole was known as the protective one, but at least when it came to him, Laila was a one-woman triage unit.
He squeezed her hand and looked to Doc. “Ready when you are.”
Doc folded the papers back on their creases to straighten them out and then pulled his reading glasses from the outside chest pocket of his heavy-duty denim jacket. He slipped them over his ears and cleared his throat. “Let’s see here.” His eyes skimmed the first few lines before he muttered, “Legal jargon. Ah, okay . . . here we are.”
Lowering his foot to the floor, he sat up straighter in his chair, running his finger along the words at the bottom of the first page and then flipping to the second. “The house located at 23394 County Road 14, Adelaide Springs, Colorado . . .” He looked up and smiled at Cole. “It’s yours, of course. Along with everything in it.”
Cole released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He certainly wasn’t sure why he had been holding it. It had never even occurred to him that there was a chance the house wouldn’t be his, but he’d also never thought of it in those terms. To think of it in those terms would have been to acknowledge, in some small way, that it wasn’t his already. No, his name might not have been on the deed, but apart from his two years in Boulder, he’d never lived anywhere else. His earliest memories were in that house with his grandparents and his mother. Then his grandmother had died, and his mother went off to chase her restless desire to save the world. And eventually his grandfather needed more care than he could give, so Grandpa went to Spruce House, and Cole lived in that big house alone. He’d probably known they’d never live together again. They’d probably both known that. But they never discussed it. And Cole hadn’t so much as repositioned his grandfather’s chair from right in front of the fireplace where he liked it.
Cole nodded. “That’s very generous.”
Doc’s eyes continued skimming the pages, and about the time he flipped over to page three, they started growing wide. Wide and full of bewilderment.
“What is it?” Sebastian asked.
Doc looked up from the pages. “You’re all in here.”
“What?” Brynn and Sebastian asked in shocked unison, while Cole just shook his head and smiled. That had been the story of his life. For nearly forty years, every single time he’d thought he had his grandfather figured out, the old man did something that surprised him. Genuinely surprised him. Maybe it was finding a bunch of wrapped Christmas gifts in the closet and realizing they weren’t for him but for the kids of some of the miners who were clinging to desperate hope they wouldn’t have to relocate their families when the last of the silver mining dried up in the late eighties. More than once it had been the way his miserly stubbornness had been overruled by compassionate humanity and he’d used his vote as a member of city council to actually make people’s lives better. And how many times had Cole been ordered into the car after school, grumbling and full of resentment that his video game time was being taken away from him, only to end up having one of the best afternoons of his adolescence sneaking around with his grandfather, pretending to be invisible superheroes on a mission to pick up trash and pull weeds without being spotted?
Of course he’d wait until he was gone to display his heart and reveal his true feelings for some of the people he liked to pretend vexed him more than any others. Cole didn’t know why he was surprised.
Doc chuckled and looked at them over the rims of his readers. “I think I’ll just read this part aloud. It’s unmistakably Bill’s voice.” He looked back at the papers and cleared his throat. “‘To Sebastian Sudworth, I leave my Benjamin Homer Brass Barreled American Flintlock Pistol, crafted in Boston, Massachusetts, circa 1775, along with certificate of authenticity. Credit where it’s due.’” Doc looked at Sebastian. “That’s all it says. No actual credit given, it seems, but—”
“Yeah, I get it.” Sebastian nodded and studied his hands resting on the table while the outbreak of a smile threatened to overtake the twitching corners of his mouth. “That means a lot.”
In the three years or so that Bill Kimball and Sebastian Sudworth had served together on the Adelaide Springs city council, they’d only voted the same way a handful of times. The most notable had been in support of the new plan Brynn and Sebastian had hatched to bring back Township Days in a way that was sustainable, affordable, and forward thinking. Oh, Bill still complained every chance he got, of course, but by bringing back Township Days, Sebastian had finally earned the old man’s respect. Credit where it was due.
“‘To Brynn Cornell,’” Doc continued, and Brynn froze in her seat at the sound of her name. “‘I forgive a debt in the amount of $6.42, valued at approximately $41.30 when adjusted for inflation and accrued interest.’”
The entire table erupted into laughter, and Brynn stood from her seat and reached across the table. “Hand it over, Kimball. I’m free and clear, baby. Free and clear.” Cole pulled the money from his pocket and handed it back to her as Brynn continued laughing.
“‘To Laila Olivet,’” Doc resumed, being the adult in the room, as always. But this time the chuckling continued and the uneasiness that had originally accompanied the seriousness of the occasion seemed to be gone. At least it was until Doc said, “Oh. Well . . . Hmm.”
Everyone snapped back to attention, but Laila still attempted to keep things light. “I’m pretty sure I paid him back for everything I ever broke, Doc. Everything he knew about, anyway.”
Doc smiled at her and held the document to his right so Cole, who was craning his neck, could see what had caused Doc’s reaction. Cole’s eyes flew open as he looked quickly to Doc and then back to the paper.
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.” Laila exhaled a shaky breath. “What does it say?”
Cole faced her, his eyes no longer wide but his grin getting wider by the second. “My grandfather left you ten thousand dollars.”
The color drained from her face in an instant. “What? What are you talking about? Why would he . . . What?! What does it say? Did he say why? That doesn’t make any sense!”
“It says, ‘To Laila Olivet I leave ten thousand dollars.’” Doc raised his gaze over his glasses again and smirked. “You know Bill. He always had a way with words.”
“That’s too much. I can’t accept—”
“Of course you can,” Cole argued. “It’s what he wanted. And as to why . . .” He hadn’t seen it coming, but it actually made all the sense in the world to him. “You know you were his favorite.” He was filled with affection for her—and his grandfather—as he watched her grapple with her emotions. Bill Kimball had been a man who didn’t like many people and had no trouble finding fault with all of them. All of them except for the wife he had loved and lost.
Cole’s grandmother aside, Bill had thought Laila Olivet had fewer faults than all the rest.
Doc resumed reading. “And then there’s a little bit of money to your mom, Cole. And some of your grandmother’s belongings, it looks like. Engagement ring, some other jewelry, a fur coat . . . those sorts of things. Then it looks like everything else . . .” His voice faded. “That can’t be right,” he said under his breath as he flipped from page three to page four and back again. His eyes met Cole’s. “Everything else goes to the town, with a good portion earmarked for Township Days.”
Cole snorted. “Sounds right to me. I’m surprised there wasn’t some sort of stipulation in there that Brynn’s $6.42 debt forgiveness must be accompanied by an unbreakable vow to always support the festival and give it top-of-the-hour coverage on Sunup.” He began looking over Doc’s shoulder. “So how much is ‘everything,’ anyway? I know he had a few stock investments and some money in the bank, but—”
“One point eight million.”
Silence echoed around the table. Everyone stared first at Doc, as if trying to make sense of the words he had just said, and then at Cole, as if he’d been holding out on them. Big time. For their entire lives, in some cases.
Of course it didn’t take long at all to observe the slack-jawed confusion Cole knew his face expressed and realize that if anyone had been held out on, it was him.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have any idea Bill had that sort of money?” Sebastian asked him.
Cole raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “If you’d have asked me what sort of liquidity he had left, after the house and investments and all that, I would have guessed a hundred grand. Maybe two if he was savvier than he let on.”
And the thing was he had suspected his grandfather was savvier than he let on. No surprise there. For all the ways he struggled with technology and railed against advancements and a changing world and such, he also dropped names like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates into conversations often enough that Cole would sometimes tease him by asking if he had Rupert Murdoch on speed dial.
Bill would respond by acting like he didn’t understand the concept of speed dial.
But one point eight million? How was that even possible?
“An amount like that is going to change everything for Adelaide Springs,” Brynn whispered—in excitement and fear, Cole guessed. Cole understood the tone because he understood the sentiment.
“Is there any sort of instruction, Doc?” Cole asked. “Apart from supporting Township Days, I mean. Did he say anything about a trust being set up or how to spread out payments to the town, or anything like that?”
Doc shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. Not in here, anyway. But obviously there’s got to be more paperwork somewhere. I guess I’ll have to get with his lawyer—”
“I have his number.” Cole pulled out his phone. “I’m assuming it’s the same firm we used in Grand Junction when we set up medical power of attorney.”
Doc reached into his inside jacket pocket again and pulled out a pen and handed it to Cole. Cole wrote the information on the envelope the will had been in and handed it to Doc. “Here you go. Let me know how I can help with any of that.”
“Same here,” Sebastian chimed in, and Brynn nodded her agreement. “Something like this has the potential to make it all too big too quickly if we’re not careful.”
Laila’s quiet, shaky voice broke through the ongoing speculation. “What about Cassidy’s?”
Huh.Cole hadn’t given any thought to Cassidy’s. Yes, they were sitting right in the center of it, but it hadn’t been on his radar even so much as his grandmother’s fur coat (which his mother had already sworn she would sell, the proceeds going to an animal rights charity). His grandfather’s house had been just that—his grandfather’s house. Never mind that Cole had never received his mail anywhere else or that nearly every paycheck he’d ever earned had contributed to the utilities and upkeep. Never mind that on the odd occasion he had a day off from Cassidy’s, he would find himself on a ladder or in the attic or mowing the yard. It was his grandfather’s house.
But he couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of Cassidy’s Bar Grill as his grandfather’s business. Cassidy’s was his, and he suspected his grandfather had seen it that way for even longer than he had.
And now he just had to hope that a long-standing shared view wasn’t going to cause any unnecessary problems.
“Did he forget to include Cassidy’s in his will?” Cole asked. “What happens then? Will it have to go to probate or something?”
“You may get your movie drama after all,” Brynn teased Laila from across the table.
Cole chuckled and envisioned just how nondramatic that might be. People’s exhibit A: Cole’s Bacon Cheeseburger with Cassidy’s Sauce. On the menu since 2016. Can anyone else in the entire world recreate the recipe for Cassidy’s Sauce? No? The defense rests. Case dismissed and bon appétit!
Doc wasn’t laughing. He had flipped to the fifth and final page, and it was holding all his attention. And just like that, the seriousness of Doc’s expression captivated the attention of everyone else at the table.
“What is it, Doc?” Sebastian finally asked, after everyone’s eyes had shifted around to each other several times and his had landed on Cole. “What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t until Cole heard the question from Sebastian’s mouth that it clicked that something was, in fact, wrong. Sebastian was the keenest observer he’d ever known, and Cole was suddenly afraid he was missing something.
“He did leave Cassidy’s to me, didn’t he?” The thought of any other alternative was unfathomable, but that didn’t stop his brain from spiraling down a list. Not of worries, but of possibilities. If he had to, he’d buy it. From whom, he had no idea—the town, maybe?—and with what money he had even less of a clue. But the house was his and had been free of debt for twenty-five years or more. His credit was good and his reputation was spotless.
The more he thought about it, he wasn’t all that concerned. He had a little bit of lingering guilt that he hadn’t helped his grandfather keep a better eye on things, but he would just have to live with that. He would have insisted on more than just medical power of attorney if he’d known wills were going to be rewritten in the last months of his grandfather’s life, but he’d seemed more together than anyone in his condition had any right to be.
It was what it was. If “everything else” was going to Adelaide Springs, that must include Cassidy’s. He’d figure out a way to pay what the restaurant was worth—and to him, it was worth whatever it took.
Besides, he thought as he looked across the table and a smile returned to his face, two of his best friends were loaded. They would make a sizable donation to his GoFundMe account.
“Cole, I don’t know how to explain what I’m looking at here.” Doc’s voice was grave as he looked up from the papers in his hands and met Cole’s eyes. “It looks like he sold it.”
The complete difference in terminology from what had just been flooding his brain—the difference between leaving something as an inheritance and selling it—didn’t register. “Okay, so who do I need to talk to? Do I make an offer with city council, or—”
“No, listen to me, son.” Doc turned and placed his hand on Cole’s shoulder and transmitted the complete weight of his caring, compassionate nature as his eyes bored into Cole’s. “Bill sold Cassidy’s Bar Grill. Months ago, it looks like. To an investment group of some kind.”
Gasps escaped from Laila and Brynn, while Sebastian scooted his chair from the table, the legs scraping against the wood floor and teetering to maintain their balance as Seb faced away from his friends and muttered his frustrations toward the log wall.
As for Cole, he didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Ultimately, as Laila squeezed his hand and Doc held his gaze as stoically as he could and Sebastian wandered in a way mildly reminiscent of a caged animal and Brynn held her tongue and her breath, he said the only thing that made any sense at all to him.
“No.” He shook his head, and a confused chuckle escaped. “No. There’s been some sort of mistake. For all the things he . . . I mean, I know he wasn’t exactly . . .” Cole let out a deep breath. “No. He never would have done something so cruel. Without even telling me? No way. Not a chance. I’m sorry, Doc, but you’re wrong.”
Doc set the papers down on the table in front of him. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I was.”