Chapter 8 #2
‘So all we get is 125 grand each?’ Jason’s voice was two octaves higher than usual, but Lachlan stayed silent. It was Dad’s money, his lifetime earnings. As far as he was concerned, his dad had every right to leave it to whoever he damn well pleased.
‘That’s not quite all,’ the lawyer continued, an unmistakable reprimand in his tone. ‘As you may know, your parents owned a large dwelling on the edge of the village of Burnbank, which passed solely to your father after your mother’s death…’
Burnbank. That was where they’d grown up until they were six or seven, when Dad had moved them all into the Georgian terrace in the Park Circus area of the city.
Lachlan had lived there until he’d started work and moved into a flat with some mates, while eighteen-year-old Jason had borrowed fifty-grand off their dad to do his first property deal.
Dad had sold the Park Circus home when he’d moved to Monaco, but Lachlan wasn’t even aware that he’d still owned the Burnbank house.
‘And he also owned a commercial property in the village of Weirbridge. If I remember correctly, your father bought it for your mother’s fortieth birthday – a sentimental gesture as it was where they’d met.’
Twinges of familiarity dropped in now that this story was unfolding.
His parents had both been fifteen when they’d met, and yes, it was in the café where a young Felicity McSlay had worked after school.
When Jason and Lachlan were kids, she’d occasionally take them back there in the summer holidays, and she told them that story every time.
How his dad had walked in, she’d served him a can of Irn-Bru and a bacon roll, and it had been love at first sight.
Lachlan was pretty sure she was romanticising the tale, but the smile on her face every time she told it made him believe it.
Jeremy Sprite was still speaking. ‘Your father has instructed that both properties be sold upon his death. He didn’t want there to be any disagreements as to the path forward.
Proceeds from the house have been bequeathed to Demi, and – I must stress that this is a crucial point – as long as there is no contest to the will, the revenue from the sale of the café is to be divided equally between his sons. ’
‘How much are they worth?’ Jason cut right to the chase, but Jeremy didn’t flinch.
‘We’ve had them both surveyed and the manor house is worth approximately ￡1.
2 million in its current condition, and the commercial property, which consists of the café and the apartment above it, is worth roughly ￡360K.
The tenants have already moved out of the home, and a sixty-day termination of lease has been served on the commercial property. ’
‘Christ, this is all going to take months,’ Jason groaned, making his feelings clear.
‘I want it sold way quicker than that.’ Lachlan didn’t understand the issue.
Jason’s greed aside, this was a gift – more than they were legally due – so why did he have such a stick up his ass about it?
Especially when his brother’s property development company could probably buy everything Lachlan owned and not even notice the dent in its bank account.
Jeremy hadn’t finished. ‘This brings me to the reason for this meeting. Jason and Lachlan, your father wanted to be assured that today would not cause prolonged issues between you all, so this offer stands only if it is accepted today. I have the documents here for your signature’ – he slid an A4 sheet of paper towards each of them – ‘with the disclaimer being that if you decide to contest his will, and pursue assets granted to your stepmother, you will forfeit the proceeds from the Scottish properties and retain only the cash sum as decreed by Scottish law. If you accept his terms, then the proceeds of the property will be transferred to you on conclusion of the sale.’
Lachlan had to supress an urge to laugh.
Clever old Dad. He would have known that Jason would come for blood and make life miserable for Demi, so he’d put a safeguard in place.
Lachlan knew he should perhaps feel slighted too, but he stuck to his earlier position – it was his dad’s money to do with as he pleased.
He didn’t even have to think about it. He reached forward, took one of the pens that were in the centre of the table. ‘Sounds fine to me.’
‘Lachlan, don’t…’ Jason blurted, but Lachlan ignored him and signed on the dotted line before sliding the document back to the lawyer.
‘Your father said you would do this,’ Jeremy said, with a faint smile and maybe a touch of affection.
‘He was usually right,’ Lachlan replied. ‘Are we done here? ’
‘We are.’
Lachlan stood up. ‘Great. Demi, I wish you the best, and thank you for the happiness you gave my father. Jason, have a nice life. I wish you both well.’
And with that, he turned and left the room, jumping into the lift just as the doors were about to close on two women who’d entered before him.
Down in the lobby, he pulled off his tie as he left the lift, but had only gone a few steps when a panting Jason emerged from a door with a ‘stairs’ sign on it.
‘Lachlan! Look, signing that was a mistake. We need to challenge it. Find a way to sell the café quicker and contest the rest of it. Get more. Can we go somewhere and talk?’
‘Jason, like I said, I wish you well.’ That might be a lie.
‘But I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ That definitely wasn’t.
‘I’ll see you around.’ Again, not true, but with that, Lachlan turned and began to cross the wide expanse of the reception area, stopping at the desk to hand in his security pass.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason shake his head, then turn back and summon the lift.
He must be going back up to argue his case.
Good luck to him. Lachlan wasn’t interested.
Both receptionists were busy, so he waited, thinking that the woman in front of him, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a bright red duffel coat and jeans, was a stark contrast to the formal business wear all around him.
‘Yes, I’d like to see Mr Sprite please. My name is Alyssa Canavan,’ he heard her say.
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, but it’s really important.’
There was something about the urgency in her voice and the panic on her face that made him adjust his attitude.
As the other receptionist came off the phone and accepted his lanyard, it was a reminder that no matter how much he’d hated the last couple of hours, there was always someone out there having an even worse day.
Now he just had to get out of this building, away from Glasgow and far from his memories, and then it would be over.