21. Meredith
MEREDITH
You could hear a pin drop.
Sophie looks like a golden goddess, carved from something unyielding, elegant, and impossible. The only one of us capable of looking so good on no sleep.
I glance at June, but from her dazed expression, she wasn’t expecting this, either.
Sophie walks past all of us without even a glance, and for a crazy second, I wonder if she’s come to pick a side—Richard’s or ours. But then she approaches the table and lifts her chin to the men in suits.
“Thank you all for coming.” Her voice slices through the tension like a blade. “But the sale of the Shack will not be going forward.”
Richard’s head whips around. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Richard.” Sophie doesn’t bother looking at him, choosing instead to address the developers. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
The two men exchange a look and, after a moment of silent conversation, nod to each other. They rise from their seats.
“Sit. Back. Down.”
It’s the wrong move. The two other men immediately react to Richard’s hostile tone with disdain. Whatever Country Club bromance they have going on in polite company, clearly does not entitle him to address them so recklessly.
They are not, after all, his stepdaughters.
“Mr. Grant,” the taller man says as they continue to their feet. “Perhaps it would be best if you took some time to speak with your family. Clearly, there is some unfinished business that needs addressing before we can proceed with the sale.”
“We are not family,” he snaps back, entirely forgetting himself.
I have to bite back a smirk.
“Our mistake.” The developers gather their things and file out quickly, the silence trailing after them like a fog. “Good day, Richard.”
When the door finally clicks shut, the four of us are left facing a man capable of nothing more than falling back into a chair.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Richard is seething now. We can all see it, but it’s only Ashton who flinches. No doubt, my sisters are all too familiar with this version of my mother’s husband—the man capable of starting arguments that tear apart families for fifteen years.
Sophie doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t look at June.
She walks forward calmly and stops a few feet from him.
“I just had a very interesting conversation with Mom,” she says, voice still maddeningly even.
“She was groggy, but lucid. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that the doctors are happy with her recovery, and her memory of the events leading up to the collapse is all intact. ”
Richard’s lips twitch.
But Sophie presses on. “But do you know what she doesn’t remember?”
No. Freaking. Way.
Sophie smiles faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “She has no memory of signing over power of attorney.”
Rage boils up thick and fast. Out of the corner of my eye, Ashton instinctively reaches for June’s arm as if to hold her back.
But Richard doesn’t even blink, retreating into that trademark patronizing confidence we all know and hate. “Of course she doesn’t remember. She’s been diagnosed with dementia. That’s why she signed it over to me in the first place.”
Sophie doesn’t flinch.
“Which would make sense, if your facts matched up,” she says evenly. “You said she signed everything days ago, right? Right after she burned her hands so badly she couldn’t even hold a spoon.”
That knocks the wind out of him. “She didn’t need to sign it. We had a witness. Two, in fact. And she gave her consent verbally?—”
“You said she signed it,” Sophie cuts in.
“I…misspoke.”
And just like that, it all comes crashing down.
Richard’s tone darkens, becoming more brittle and defensive.
“She was lucid. I wasn’t trying to deceive anyone.
I did this to protect her. You think she’s capable of making decisions for herself anymore?
Look at what happened! She’s slipping, and none of you were here to see it.
I’m the only one who stayed, who’s been there for her since her diagnosis. You have no idea what that’s like.”
His voice cracks, and for a second, I see the fear behind his anger. He is scared. For her. And maybe—just maybe—he did this with good intentions.
But good intentions don’t excuse what he’s done.
I clear my throat. “You forged a legal document, Richard. Whether you meant well or not, if she couldn’t consent—if she couldn’t even sign—then what you’ve done is fraud. And if you used that document to try to sell a business she still legally owns, that’s not just unethical. That’s criminal.”
The silence that follows is heavy.
Richard looks between the three of us, and for once, he has nothing to say.
June is the one who speaks next. “You want to get rid of the Shack so badly? Fine. We’ll draft up the documents and have ownership transferred to us exclusively.
Consider Mom officially unburdened.” She steps between Richard and the rest of us.
“But if you want to keep whatever’s left of your reputation intact, you’ll walk away now.
Stay away from the beach house. Stay away from the Shack. I don’t even want to see you again.”
Richard’s jaw tightens. “The beach house has been my home for fifteen years.”
“Then you should have cared a bit more about alienating your wife’s family.”
“You don’t speak for your mother.”
June lets out a bitter laugh. “You think she’ll be able to stand you after this? Be my guest, try your luck. But you’re not going to find any forgiveness from us.”
Richard looks like he’s about to argue again, but then Ashton pulls June gently back from where she’s begun to lean into his space.
“Perhaps you could take this as your cue to leave, Richard.” Ashton’s tight smile reveals nothing but politeness as he gestures toward the door. “Let’s not make this messier than it needs to be.”
This seems to be the last straw. Richard’s shoulders slump, and he looks at each of us as if he doesn’t recognize us anymore. Without saying a word, he stands to leave, with Ashton stepping in to see him out.
The door closes behind them with a decisive click.
The silence stretches in the wake of his absence. The three of us stand there, exhausted, frayed at every edge. Sophie lets out a slow breath. June rubs her eyes. I stare down at the money still on the table.
Then June snorts softly, her lip quirking into something dangerously close to a smile. “Did we just…”
And just like that, the tension cracks.
“Oh my God.”
I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly, I’m surrounded by arms, smiles, and laughter.
Being crushed from all sides, squealing together, trying to find balance in the three-way hug.
Sophie’s forehead presses into my temple, and June’s leans against my shoulder.
I might be crying or shrieking, but it doesn’t really matter when the other two are in similar states.
Just three fully grown teenage girls, sharing in their joy and disbelief.
On an exhale, we all slowly detangle ourselves.
It’s Sophie who wrinkles her nose at me. “No offense, Meredith, but you actually stink.”
“Hey!”
June merely loops an arm around each of us. “Let’s go home then. I need a coffee and a shower.”
By the time we return to the beach house, my body feels like it’s made of wet sand. After a few more jabs from Sophie—and a much-needed shower—I collapse onto the couch, happy not to move for the rest of the day.
June and Sophie haven’t reemerged yet, so I’m not expecting the cup of coffee that suddenly hovers in my eyeline.
“Thanks.” I shoot Ashton a grateful smile as he relinquishes it to my shaking hands.
He chuckles as he eases into the armchair. “You Holloway sisters are pretty easy to please, you know that?”
“Don’t go telling people that.” I take a long whiff of the steaming cup and relax back into the couch. “We have reputations, you know.”
“Oh boy, do I.”
It’s easy to talk to a man like Ashton Parker. He reminds me a lot of some of the new-money guys at Harvard. The ones who still understand what an honest day’s work looks like and can hold a conversation without monopolizing the spotlight. And Ashton has questions. A lot of questions.
“You must have really hated that shucking station, huh?”
“If he’d given me more than half a hint, I swear it wouldn’t have taken me so long to find it,” I announce for what I’m sure won’t be the last time. “But he was always like that, making things into a game to make even the boring stuff more interesting.”
There’s a soft smile on Ashton’s face as he listens. “Your dad sounds like someone I would’ve liked.”
I nod. “He was…complicated. But I think he would’ve liked you. As long as you’re serious about not screwing over June.”
Ashton grins. “Is this where you give me the shovel talk?”
“I guess I’m the oldest,” I joke back, before letting my face drop. “But seriously, I am a lawyer, so don’t push it.”
To his credit, Ashton bows his head and offers me a small salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Guys?” Sophie appears in the doorway, wet hair dripping onto a towel. “Eddie’s car just pulled up.”
I’m on my feet in an instant. “What?”
“I asked him to look after Mom; I didn’t want her left alone,” she explains as we head toward the front door. “My phone died, and the only number I could remember was Birdie’s.”
“The bar?” Ashton pipes up with a bemused grin.
But before we can chastise him, the door opens and Eddie walks in, pushing a wheelchair.
And in it, wrapped in a shawl and looking pale but composed, is our mother.
“Mom,” I whisper, already rushing to her.
June chooses that moment to appear at the top of the stairs. “You’re supposed to be resting,” she yells as she takes the steps two at a time.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Eleanor says dryly, then smiles. “Not before I see my girls.”
“That’s really not funny, Mom.” Sophie is at her other side, already swiping away at the telltale redness around her eyes.
She looks smaller somehow. Her petite body is dwarfed by the wheelchair, as if it were made for someone taller. But her eyes are bright and clear. Lucid. Awake at last.
“Come on,” Eddie says gently. “Let’s get her comfortable, shall we?”