Chapter 22
T he umbrella over Annie’s table at the country club wobbled in the gust of the afternoon breeze that ruffled her hair. She zipped up her hoodie as the wind chilled her to the bone.
Turning Grandma’s letter in her fingers, she brought it to her nose. The scent of home engulfed her, a bittersweet wave of comfort and longing.
“Wish you were here, Granny.”
A butter knife sliced through the stiff envelope with ease, and a single sheet of cream-coloured paper slid out onto her awaiting hand.
Her grandma’s last words.
Annie’s chest tightened. She wished she had called more often. She could have used Darren’s phone after losing hers, but it had never felt like the right time—not with him listening to her every word.
Her mouth felt dry. She put the envelope on the table, took a sip of caramel cappuccino, and smoothed the paper in her hands.
Dear Annie, if you’re reading this, I failed to rescue you from your oppressor. He’s not a good man, that Darren, but I trust you know that by now.
Annie gasped. “She knew about him!”
A few people glanced her way from a nearby table, but only briefly, as it would be impolite to stare, even if someone seemed to be having a conversation with themselves.
How did she find out?
Annie’s gaze drifted to the trees in the distance, their waving branches seeming almost alive, as if they could answer her questions. Maybe Mr Avanti would know? She glanced at her watch—half past 2 p.m. There was still time before her meeting with Louise and the will executor.
Her eyes returned to the neat handwriting in vivid blue ink.
And if the cottage made its way back into the family again, I suspect you met young Conrad. He’s something else, isn’t he? I only hope his feelings aren’t misplaced, as Louise will never give him the happiness he deserves.
Annie shook her head. “How?”
How had Grandma known Conrad would be involved with Louise?
You were out of the picture, a gloomy voice whispered in her head, and she found herself nodding. It wasn’t hard to imagine her parents roping Louise into the scheme, and Grandma had known her son-in-law well enough to predict he’d cook up a plan.
Annie took a sip of her now lukewarm cappuccino and focused on the letter, wondering how many more surprises it held.
And she deserves to be happy. Oh, I know ... There was nothing more written on the page.
Annie raised her eyebrows, turning the page over. About Meggie, that is.
She chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. That was classic Grandma—nothing escaped her all-knowing eyes.
Please look after your sister and ensure she chooses her happiness over your parents’ shenanigans.
“You bet, Grandma.” That she could do. With pleasure.
As for you, my dear child, if you need help with that vile creature, Darren, I’m sure Conrad will be able to help.
“You have no idea, Granny.” Annie shook her head, remembering the fight. A smile brightened her face as she thought of Conrad’s care—how he had puffed the pillows for her at the hospital, how he’d made her comfortable on the patio afterwards. “My hero.”
“Miss?”
Annie blinked and looked up at a server standing next to the table, his expression politely neutral.
“Oh, sorry! I was talking to myself.” She tapped the letter, then glanced at her watch again—only ten more minutes until the meeting. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“No problem, Miss. I’ll come back later.”
Shifting in her seat, Annie took a last sip of her cold cappuccino and spotted Louise waving to her from the restaurant’s entrance. She waved back and glanced down to scan the rest of the letter.
One last thing. If you can, stay in the cottage, at least for a little while. It was always filled with love, and I have a hunch I’ll be able to watch over you there.
All the love, Grandma Ann.
Annie stared at the closing words, hearing the warmth of Grandma Ann’s voice in her mind.
“It’s such a lovely place.”
Her sister’s vibrant tone snapped her out of her thoughts. Annie blinked her tears away and folded the letter, slipping it back into the envelope.
“The vivid greens of the countryside and intensity of the wooden furniture, contrasted by the whites of the linen and cushions. What a feast! I wish I’d brought my brushes.”
Louise’s laughter bubbled out like a child’s, light and carefree, drawing smiles from a few nearby tables.
“Do you think they’d mind?” Louise pulled out a chair and sank into it, her eyes still scanning the surroundings.
“Mind what?” Annie waved at the server to return.
“Me painting here. Maybe over there.” Louise pointed to the far edge of the seating area, where a thick, low hedge bordered the row of tables. “I’m so glad Mr Avanti chose this place for our meeting.”
Annie nodded. “Yeah. I wonder why, though.”
She had pegged him as a man of purpose—meticulous and exact, yet full of compassion and an intriguing sense of humour. She had no objections to keeping him on as their estate manager, just as Grandma had suggested.
“Ladies?”
The same server from before stood tall, waiting for their orders.
“My apologies for being late.” Mr Avanti emerged from a side path, bowing slightly. Annie glanced at her watch—a minute to 3 p.m.
“Your timing is perfect. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair opposite hers before turning to the waiter. “I’ll have another decaf cappuccino—vanilla this time, please. Lou, hot chocolate for you?”
Her sister nodded. “And a slice of carrot cake.”
“Great idea.” Annie beamed. “I’ll have one too! Mr Avanti, what about you?”
She pictured him as the type to opt for a no-frills espresso and a simple croissant—efficient, minimalistic, and to the point.
“A latte, please. And indeed, that carrot cake sounds like the perfect way to celebrate.”
He settled into his chair, placing a laptop at the table’s edge. “If I may, Miss Louise, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Bartholomew Avanti, your late Grandma Ann’s estate manager and the executor of her will.”
Louise’s face lit up as she shook his hand. “Yes, Annie mentioned. So, why here?” she said in one breath.
He adjusted his glasses. “I beg your pardon?”
Louise chuckled. “Why this glorious place, of all places? Not that I’m complaining, but wouldn’t your office be more appropriate for discussing estate matters?”
“Ah, yes.” Mr Avanti opened a leather folder and pulled out a few sheets of paper. “I thought it would be fitting to introduce you ladies to your investment portfolio here.” He handed each of them a printout, neatly organised, with columns of names and figures.
“I have a digital copy as well, but I thought it might be easier to review the printout while we discuss.”
“I still don’t understand.” Louise waved the sheet lightly with her fingers, almost losing it to the wind.
“I’d like to draw your attention to the first item on the list.”
Annie’s eyes fell on the top entry. Whispering Pines Country Club .
“No way!” Louise exclaimed, expressing exactly what Annie was thinking. “Eighty percent ownership. That’s a lot, right?”
“Yes, Miss Louise, it’s a controlling stake. The former owner, Mr Baker, retained the remaining twenty percent and, in exchange, manages this place.” He gestured to the surrounding property with a small wave of his hand. “And he’s doing a sterling job, I must add.”
“Totally,” Annie murmured, her gaze following the sweep of his hand.
Suddenly, she started giggling. Memories of her parents’ aspirations to own the country club flooded her mind.
“Lou, can we agree on one thing here?” Annie asked between bursts of laughter.
“Sure, as long as you tell me what’s so funny.” Louise cocked her head, curiosity clear on her face.
“Let’s agree never to sell this place and never let anyone know who owns it.”
“Okay ... ” Louise’s tone was wary, but intrigued.
“Oh, you’ll love this.” Annie leaned forward, still giggling. “Our parents cooked up this elaborate scheme to use Grandma’s inheritance to buy this very place. They even considered hiring Conrad to run it.” She paused, savouring the punchline. “And all this time, it was already in the family.”
Louise burst into hearty laughter. Even Mr Avanti allowed himself a soft chuckle.
Their drinks and cakes arrived, and the sisters fell silent, focusing on the rest of the list.
“Bloody hell. This is astonishing.” Annie scanned the document, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the investments. Her grandma had quietly amassed stakes in what felt like half the local businesses.
“But why never more than eighty percent ownership?” Louise asked, voicing the question Annie had already guessed the answer to.
“Because your grandmother believed in empowering others. She wanted to help businesses thrive without taking control away from their struggling owners. She believed no one knew their domain better than the people who built it. By investing, she offered financial support, guidance on budgeting and profitability, and the freedom for them to keep doing what they loved.”
Annie nodded so hard she nearly spilt her cappuccino. That was Grandma Ann to a T—always helping, but never overstepping or smothering.
“So, what happens now?” Louise took a bite of her carrot cake. She groaned with pleasure. “Oh, this is divine.”
“Ah yes, the cakes here are delivered by Little Mermaid Bakery.”
“We should invest in them as well,” Annie mumbled through a mouthful of cake. It was simply too good to ignore.
Mr Avanti tapped the paper in her hand. “Position thirteen, if you would.”
Of course. Grandma wouldn’t have missed that opportunity.
“As for what happens next, it’s entirely up to you, Miss Louise and Miss Annie.”
“Can we do nothing?” Annie tilted her head thoughtfully. “I mean. Everything seems to be running smoothly. Can’t we just let it continue as is?”
Louise nodded in agreement, her mouth too full of cake to speak.
“If that’s your decision, then we simply need you both to appoint a portfolio manager—”
“That would be you, Mr Avanti,” Louise blurted out. “If you agree, of course. I can’t imagine anyone knowing Grandma’s plans better than you.”
Annie smiled, grateful they were on the same page. This was something they had agreed on before coming to the meeting—to keep things going, at least until they understood the full picture.
Mr Avanti swallowed as if something got stuck in his throat. “I would be honoured.” He gave a small bow.
“And what about Grandma’s house?” Louise asked, her voice soft with emotion.
“Ah, yes.” Mr Avanti flipped through his folder. “Your grandmother left the house to both of you to use as you see fit, but she asked that you wait at least six months before considering selling it.”
“I could never sell it,” Louise said, her tone resolute. She turned to Annie, her soulful eyes pleading.
“Of course not,” Annie replied. Then an idea struck her. She raised her cake spoon for emphasis. “I have a suggestion.”
Louise tilted her head, curious. “What kind of suggestion?”
“You should have it,” Annie said.
Louise’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the house should be yours. I had my time there, and now it’s your turn. Let’s make Grandma’s house fully yours.”
“I couldn’t,” Louise gasped, her voice thick with emotion.
“Why not? I have the cottage, and besides, I bet that the conservatory at the back has amazing light for your paintings.”
Louise’s hesitation was written all over her face, but before she could respond, a thought crossed Annie’s mind. She scanned the list again, searching for any mention of Conrad’s pubs. Nothing.
“Mr Avanti. Are we investors in any of Mr Brenman’s pubs?”
“No, Miss Annie.”
Her chest tightened. What a shame. She had to find a way to bail him out. “Could we be?”
Louise raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued.
“Sorry, Lou,” Annie said. “I should have mentioned this earlier, but ... I need to do something to help him. I can’t let Conrad go under. He’s ... ”
She trailed off, unsure how to explain. How could she convince them this was important without delving into emotions she hadn’t fully processed?
To the love of your life.
The words from her grandmother’s letter echoed in her mind.
“You don’t need to say anything else, sis. I get you.” Louise turned toward Mr Avanti. “What could we do?”
Mr Avanti chuckled as though he’d heard a great joke. “I suspected this might come up, so I took the liberty of speaking with the bank manager. It seems they would halt the repossession if we paid off half of the loan.”
Annie’s stomach churned. Could they afford it? She still didn’t fully grasp how wealthy they had become, but Mr Avanti seemed to read her mind.
“I would suggest liquidating one of the assets.” He tapped Annie’s list. “Position twenty-four. The former owner has expressed interest in buying back his controlling stake. That would free up enough cash to resolve the issue.”
“Let’s do it!” Louise declared, raising her mug of hot chocolate. “To Conrad’s bright future.”
“And ours!” Annie raised her cappuccino mug with such enthusiasm that half of the liquid splashed into the air. But she didn’t care.
For the first time in what felt like forever, things were looking up.?