Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“Are you sure you have nobody?” the lawyer asked. “No family? No close friends?”
Heat crawled up Jack’s neck, but he kept his face impassive. He hadn’t come to this swanky lawyer’s office to bare his soul to Ms. Lancaster, the estate attorney he picked out of an internet search. All he wanted was to get his will revised and signed.
He shot out of the chair to pace around the glass-and-steel office. A bank of windows overlooked the leafy greenspace of the town square below, but inside everything was as sleek and modern as the iMac sitting on the attorney’s tempered-glass desk.
“I don’t trust anyone to manage my affairs except someone I’m paying,” he said, hoping Ms. Lancaster would quit poking into his personal life.
Not too long ago, Jack was legitimately filthy rich after twelve years of building golf courses all over the world.
Now he was gambling it all to complete the Tucker’s Grove Golf Course, the jewel in his crown.
The Tucker family’s ailing finances offered Jack the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to actually own part of a spectacular golf course instead of merely designing it.
Rather than accepting a final payment and walking away, Jack would collect revenue from Tucker’s Grove in perpetuity.
He’d have the freedom to continue his nomadic lifestyle designing golf courses to whoever paid him the most, but income from Tucker’s Grove would provide a financial safety net for the rest of his life.
Owning a partial stake in the golf course meant he needed to revise his will and appoint someone to manage the business in the event of his death. Teresa Gutierrez, the woman who would inherit everything, wasn’t the sort of person who could manage a golf course.
“Paying for long-term management will be costly and eat into your principal,” Ms. Lancaster cautioned.
“I want to designate my lawyer in New York to serve as the estate executor.”
Ms. Lancaster shifted uneasily. “Attorneys don’t always make the best executors,” she said. “Given that your estate will have an ongoing interest in a golf course, I think you’d be better served by having a trusted family member involved to ensure its viability.”
Why did she have to keep pushing this? He didn’t have any family and he never stayed in one place long enough to make lasting friendships.
Cancer killed his mother when he was eleven, and an alcoholic father abandoned Jack into the foster care system a few years later.
None of those foster homes worked out so well, and he ran away for good when he was fifteen, so no …
there wasn’t anyone he trusted to administer an estate.
“No friends, no family,” he said tersely. “If this isn’t the sort of work you can handle, tell me now and I’ll find another attorney.”
Ms. Lancaster’s face soured even more. “I’ve already completed the revisions and I’m perfectly capable of completing this will, but it is my fiduciary responsibility to let you know that your chosen executor is problematic.”
That schoolmarm voice grated on his nerves.
He wasn’t proud that at the age of thirty-seven he had collected exactly zero close friends, but that wasn’t any of her business.
He had hundreds of golfing buddies. Dozens of business alliances.
He dated more women than he could shake a stick at.
He liked women and they liked him back, but at the end of every golf course he completed, he was always ready to move on.
No loose ends, and no woman slung around his neck to slow him down.
He stared down at the courthouse square below.
So many people moving in and out, most wearing business suits, all of them hurrying somewhere important …
but one woman in a flowy blue skirt was riveting.
It was the same lady who had nagged him about messing up the Roost, and he squinted to see her better.
In a world where everyone was rushing about, Alice Chadwick trailed her fingers along a planter filled with blooming flowers.
It looked like she didn’t have a care in the world as she leaned in to inhale.
“I’ll need the name and address of your beneficiary,” Ms. Lancaster said.
The spell was broken and he turned away from the window.
Teresa Gutierrez was often a challenge to track down.
She used to manage a laundromat in Baltimore and looked the other way when a homeless kid snuck in the back to sleep after the place closed for the night.
She started leaving him a meal each night, and when she noticed he didn’t have a decent winter coat, one of those appeared, too.
Over the years Teresa tried to get Jack back into foster care, but he was a stubborn idiot and wouldn’t listen, so she helped him as best she could.
She left him tokens for the machines so he could wash his clothes and quit being so stinky when he went to school.
It was Teresa who encouraged him to apply for scholarships to get into college.
In hindsight, she’d probably been risking her job if the laundromat’s owner ever found out what she was doing.
That brand of kindness was rare, and he never forgot it.
After Jack got rich, he started sending her gift cards at Christmas, but she moved around a lot, and sometimes the cards were returned to the post office box he used as his permanent address.
He’d pay someone to track her down and send a few thousand dollars in gift cards to her.
Teresa didn’t know he’d made her his beneficiary.
If she outlived him, Teresa would be an instant millionaire, but she didn’t have the financial experience to understand a golf course, and he didn’t trust the Tuckers not to take advantage of her.
That meant Jack would appoint Mueller, Mueller, and Kraft, paying them a hefty retainer to ensure whatever fortune he managed to save would go to the only person who ever sacrificed anything for him.
Dwelling on the fact that he had no real friends and no family was possibly his least favorite thing in the world. He turned his attention outside, grateful to see Alice still down there, sitting on the side of a planter to admire the morning glories.
He was going to be in Williamsburg at least five more months and perhaps she would be a wonderful female diversion that would make his stay in town more interesting.
The morning glories in the planters outside the courthouse blossomed with a riot of color on this lovely morning in early May. Alice couldn’t resist admiring the impressive flowers, their velvety petals looking too heavy for their delicate stems.
She leaned in to pinch a few faded blooms. Deadheading helped the plant grow lush and thick instead of leggy and weak.
She doubted the courthouse had gardeners to keep on top of tasks like this, but was there anything more lovely than a profusion of morning glories?
It was impossible not to smile while looking at them.
“Hello, Professor Chadwick.”
She startled at the man’s approach. Had she met him before?
It would be hard to forget those piercing blue eyes or the way his smile was a tiny bit lopsided.
It made him look charming and naughty at the same time.
Sunlight glinted on his chestnut hair that could use a good trim, but she always appreciated a man who could carry off a dark blue blazer with a pair of chinos.
His knowing grin indicated he knew she was scrambling to place him.
“Chocolate pudding,” he prompted with a wink. “Jack Latimer. We met out at Tucker’s Grove last week.”
Oh heavens, this was the man she was about to file eviction papers against. The Historic Preservation Board delivered on their promise to draft an emergency order of protection for the Roost. It was tucked into her woven tote bag, ready to be hand-delivered to the clerk of court.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” she stammered. How different he looked from the grubby man she met last week, yet just because he cleaned up nicely wouldn’t dissuade her from filing this order. “You look so different.”
“Yeah, I put on a sports jacket approximately once a week when I need to do business,” he said. He nodded to the raised planter. “You like flowers?”
“Morning glories are hard to resist,” she said.
Jack’s blue gaze remained locked on her. “They certainly are,” he said. “Hey, I saw a flyer outside the grocery store about an annual garden tour. Can I convince you to go with me?”
Was he asking her on a date? She wasn’t used to sweaty jocks showing interest in her. Alice had never been va-va-voom attractive. She was pretty, but most men preferred sexy, and she was too prim to be sexy.
The papers of eviction were burning a hole in her tote bag, and she scrambled for a way to gracefully decline. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who goes on garden tours.”
That slow grin spread across his face again.
“Ma’am, I build golf courses, and an important part of course management is knowing what ornamental plants can stand up to people tromping through them in search of golf balls.
Virginia’s tidewater is a unique climate and I need to know what kind of flowers can withstand the heat, won’t be tempting to hungry deer, and how much color they’ll give. ”
Alice brightened. “You can’t go wrong with morning glories.”
“Yeah, no,” he laughed. “I’m not going to pay someone to deadhead the morning glories. Azaleas give more color and less fuss. I need to educate myself on what other flowers can stand up to the climate here, and I’d like you to go with me.”
Alice fiddled with the pearls at her throat.
Jack Latimer was the antithesis of what she looked for in a man, but she couldn’t deny his raw, masculine appeal.
If she wasn’t about to get him evicted from the Roost she might consider going with him on the garden tour …
only for the intellectual curiosity, of course.