Chapter 59
CHAPTER
FIFTY-NINE
REBEL
Gunner’s thumb moves back and forth over my cheek and I nuzzle into the touch.
The moment he swept into the house with his dark hair, pale blue eyes, and dark, intimidating presence, I knew that everything would be okay.
“April!” Chance appears in the doorway out of breath.
“Chance!” My best friend flies into her boyfriend’s arms.
“I was so worried. I heard everything.” Chance twists her head gently up and down. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hit by the bat, did you?”
“No, but… how do you know Stewart had a bat?”
“What do you mean? I heard everything,” Chance says.
I straighten away from Gunner, stunned. “How did you hear… oh?” My eyes stray to the cell phone that April dropped earlier.
“Oh no!” April breaks away from Chance and picks the device off the floor. “Guys! I think my phone was still on the video chat.” She shows us the screen where several rows of elderly faces are looking at us.
April taps a button.
Immediately, an elderly voice croaks. “April, is everything okay? We called the police.”
“Everything’s fine, guys. Thanks for staying on.”
“What happened?” Another voice warbles.
April steps away to assure her audience. Chance slaps Gunner on the back, smiles at me and follows April through the side door.
Mom blows out a breath and I immediately go into panic mode. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Do we need to go to the hospital now?”
“I just don’t understand.” Mom lifts her hands and then drops them into her lap. “Why would Clay Kinsey leave anything for me? All I did was clean his house for a few years.”
“We don’t know why he did it, but it would really help if we could prove that he did,” Sheriff Kinsey says, stepping back into the trailer. “Stewart is talking, but his insight is limited. He’s not the mastermind here.”
Gunner’s expression tightens. “They haven’t found Uncle Clancy? Even with all the checkpoints?”
“He was last spotted near the pier. We think he might have gotten away by boat.”
Gunner’s nostrils flare. “So he’s still out there?”
“We’ll find him, son.”
I scramble to my feet. “Sherriff, thank you. For everything.”
He could have easily brushed this under the rug, but he investigated the case and even arrested his own brother.
Stewart Kinsey is absolutely awful.
But I have to admit. The Kinseys aren’t all bad.
Though it doesn’t surprise me that Gunner’s parents are so incredible given how wonderful Gunner turned out.
“I’m just doing my job, Ms. Hart.” Sheriff Kinsey glances at mom. “On behalf of the entire Kinsey family, I apologize to you and your daughter. Not just for what happened today but also for what happened in the past.”
Mom looks horrified. “Sheriff Kinsey, there’s no need to apologize. I truly think you’re mistaken. I was nothing important to your father. Truly. All I did was work for him.”
I take her hand gently, hating that she’s downplaying how incredible she is. “Mom, you inspire me with your hard work and cheerful attitude every day. I bet you inspired Clay Kinsey too.”
Mom still looks flabbergasted. “Still… a land is too much. The only thing I ever got from Mr. Clay was bonuses for Christmas and a key chain with a rusty old key still on it.”
I feel Gunner’s energy shift and look up at him. He glances at his father and the two share a meaningful look.
A moment later, Sheriff Kinsey approaches mom carefully. “Mrs. Hart, do you still have that key?”
Mom and I are not rich enough to even know what safety deposit boxes are, so I don’t blame her for not recognizing what the key was for. However, the moment Sheriff Kinsey sees it, he tells us that we need to go to the bank.
When we arrive, we’re treated like VIPs and taken straight to a private office where we’re offered tea while we wait for the manager.
A distinguished man wearing white gloves arrives and leads us through a heavily secured door, down some stairs and into a fancy room filled with bright lights and rich velvet, black boxes. The private room looks as fancy as a hotel. Mom and I both gawk at the high ceilings and fancy glass finishings.
“Did you know something like this was in Lucky Falls?” Mom asks, nudging me with her elbow.
“No ma’am,” I whisper back, in awe.
The bank manager pulls out the box with his gloved hands and sets it on the table in front of my mother. The entire process looks important and official, yet Gunner and Sheriff Kinsey remain completely unfazed.
Mom stares at the object and then at the clerk. “Am I supposed to…”
“Yes. The box is registered to you so only you can open it.”
I gasp in surprise.
“That’s probably why Clarence and Stewart never knew about it,” Sheriff Kinsey says, rubbing his chin.
“Go on. Open it,” I encourage.
Mom takes a deep breath and slowly fits the key into the lock.
She turns it.
There’s a click sound.
Gunner, Sheriff Kinsey and I press in as mom stands on the other side of the table and lifts the lid. The creak the box makes as it pops open is the loudest I’ve ever heard.
“What’s in it?” Sheriff Kinsey asks, his voice subdued.
Gunner says nothing, but I can feel his curiosity building too.
Mom spins the box around and takes out the contents. Inside, there are formal tax documents, printed emails, and a folded letter.
“The emails aren’t addressed to me,” mom says. “It’s to someone named Amir O’Neil. I’m not sure who that is.”
“It’s the owner of dad’s tax accounting firm in the city.” Sheriff Kinsey’s eyes dip to his shoes and he takes a deep breath before looking at mom again. “I recognize my father’s hand writing in the letter. May I?”
Mom nods.
Sheriff Kinsey unfolds the letter and flips to the page that was torn from the version Clarence Kinsey tampered with. He reads quietly and then his hand falls limp. “Dad knew this would happen.”
“What do you mean? What does it say?” I ask.
Sherriff Kinsey hands me the letter but, when he speaks, it’s to Gunner. “You were right. He gave the Harts the property near Darkwell Ridge.”
“ Darkwell Ridge? ” Mom croaks. “The place where they found oil?”
Gunner places both hands on the table, his head hanging low.
Sheriff Kinsey is sober enough for a funeral.
While I wrap my arms around mom who’s trembling with shock, I can’t help but feel burdened when I look at Gunner. He and his dad must have prepared for this moment, but it probably still feels like a rock landed on them knowing that it’s official.
Mom and I are rich.
And the Kinseys owe us everything.
A few months ago, I’d have been whooping and hollering and celebrating the fairness of life. After all, I’ve hated the Kinseys for so long.
But after everything, this is no victory.
“I can’t believe this,” mom says, cupping her chin and staring off into the distance. “I can’t believe this.”
“We’re going to give you two some privacy.” Sheriff Kinsey gestures to Gunner. The giant hockey player catches my eye. We share a silent look before he disappears.
“What do the emails say, Rebel?”
I look through them, my voice trembling. “It… seems like Clay Kinsey was discussing taxes with the accounting firm.” I run my fingers over a line of text and read, “ ‘The current estate qualifies for the highest tax bracket, but there is a loophole to remain in a lower bracket and relieve the tax burden on your family after your passing’. ”
“What does that mean?” Mom hyperventilates. “Why are those emails in the box? It doesn’t make sense.”
I read through the rest of the correspondence quickly. “They’re referring to inheritance taxes, mom.” My eyes catch on my mother’s name and I linger there. “I think you should read this.”
Mom accepts the email from me and reads in a wispy voice, “ ‘I’ve taken your advice into consideration and would like to avoid entering the higher tax bracket, thus, I’ve chosen to leave the property near Darkwell Ridge to a non-family member, my cleaner… ’” My mother’s knees buckle. She hands the letter to me. “Rebel, w-what does this mean for us now?”
“It means…” I blow out a breath, “that the Kinseys owe us the Darkwell Ridge property. And all the money they made from the oil there.”
“W-what?”
“It wasn’t their oil to begin with,” I explain. “They’ll have to give it back.”
“How much is that going to cost them?”
The question surprises me. “Are you worried about the Kinseys right now?”
Mom glances at the will and then up at me. “It’s not just them. The whole town will point fingers at us. No one will think we deserve this money.”
I’m so shocked by her words, I can’t even think of a response.
Mom keeps shaking her head. “Mr. Clay only gave that property to me so his kids wouldn’t have to pay a lot in taxes. If not for that, he would have wanted them to have it.”
“Mom, you didn’t read the rest of the email.” I lift the paper up and continue where she left off, “‘ She —Clay Kinsey’s talking about you , mom— is small of frame but large in heart. It is no easy feat to dedicate your time and effort to someone else’s comfort, and yet, she’s done so with unwavering kindness and diligence. Her hard work often puts mine to shame. If someone outside of my blood relatives must be a benefactor, I can choose no one but her’ .”
I hand mom the email so she can drink in the words for herself. “You deserve this money and more. Clay Kinsey gave you the land and it rightfully belongs to you.”
“Aren’t you worried about you and Gunner?” Mom asks, peering up at me. “This may make things very complicated for you two.”
“Gunner and I will get through this. Don’t worry about anything else but you .”
Mom pats my hand twice and then she heads to the door. “Gunner, Sheriff?”
Both men return to the room, looking somber and thoughtful.
Sheriff Kinsey clears his throat. “Mrs. Hart, I—uh—I know words won’t fix this, but I assure you that, on behalf of the Kinsey family, I will do everything to make this right.”
Gunner nods along.
“We,” his throat bobs, “we’ll return the land to you immediately. Now, about the matter of the oil and the repayment for that, if you could give us some time…”
“It’s alright, Sheriff.”
My eyes widen.
Gunner’s head whips up.
Mom smiles and loops her arm around mine. “I’m not the type who needs a lot. Rebel knows this. My heart’s full because I get to live in this beautiful town filled with lovely people. I’m rich with a nice home, a beautiful daughter, dear friends, and kind bosses.” She glances with a fond smile at the box. “Some would say too kind. I don’t need anything more.”
“Mom…” I whisper.
Gunner steps forward. “Mrs. Hart, we can’t let this pass by without paying you back. That’s not right or fair.”
“I agree,” Sheriff Kinsey says in a deep, firm voice. “Stewart knew about what Clarence had done and he kept you close in his shop to keep an eye on you. The harm done by our family can’t be swept under the rug. A crime was done. There are consequences for that. We’re willing to pay for our sins.”
“But it’s really fine.”
“Mrs. Hart,” Gunner declares, “my dad and I have discussed it and, while we don’t have all the money now, we’d like to propose a payment agreement.”
Mom gasps. “A what?”
“We’d like to sign a settlement,” Sheriff Kinsey says. “The Kinseys will repay you the oil in perpetuity until every cent is paid. In a sense,” Gunner’s dad blushes, “you can say that the entire Kinsey family now works for you.”
Mom swallows hard, dumbstruck.
“Would that be okay with you?” Gunner asks mom.
“Um… I… I guess,” mom stammers, looking at me.
“Then let’s head outside and set up a meeting with the lawyers,” Sheriff Kinsey says, gesturing for my mom to leave first.
As their voices get fainter, I walk over to Gunner. “Was the settlement your idea?”
“This way, your mom gets what’s owed to her, but my family doesn’t have to lose everything all at once. What do you think?”
“I think…” I glance at his grandfather’s will and then wrap my arms around his neck, “that I’ll enjoy bossing you around.”
He laughs softly and nuzzles his nose against mine, “Any time, princess. I’m at your service.”