Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Despite a blustery north wind, Taylor chose to walk to her Monday meeting with the attorney. She could have driven and been at his door in ten minutes, but she wanted time to settle.
Taylor wasn’t sure why she dreaded the meeting. It was simply a formality. She’d already been told the house was hers, as was her dad’s car.
The only thing she could figure was hearing the terms of the will spoken aloud would make her father’s death final. One last nail in the coffin.
As she power-walked toward downtown, Taylor slipped her gloved hand into her pocket, hoping to find a note from her father. Just a few words of encouragement, even something as simple as you’ve got this.
She’d often received those messages before a big test or a stressful classroom presentation.
Though Taylor searched carefully, the pocket remained empty.
By the time Mr. Blount’s office building came into view, Taylor’s cheeks were numb from the cold, and her breath came in short puffs. Not from exertion, though she’d walked at a fast clip, but from the realization that this was real.
Her father was forever lost to her.
As quickly as the thought appeared, Taylor rejected it. The notes had shown her that her father was still with her, acting as her compass and guiding her path.
Once inside, Taylor stood in the lobby and let herself bask in the warmth and silence…until her phone dinged with a text from her mother.
I realize this is a difficult time for you. Remember, you’re a strong woman. You’ll get through this.
Tempted to ignore the text, her father’s words had her hesitating. Be kind , he had urged in his note.
Instead of letting the text go unanswered, Taylor quickly replied, It is hard, but I’m hanging in there. Then she dropped the phone back into her bag.
Even though the encouragement had come from her mother rather than in a note from her dad, Taylor felt herself steady.
Knowing if she delayed much longer, she’d be late, Taylor nonetheless couldn’t stop herself from checking the coat pockets one more time. Empty.
When the elevator door slid open on the third floor, where Blount’s office was located, Taylor had her emotions under control.
The assault on her heart started the instant she stepped into the law firm’s outer office. The receptionist, Diane, who looked about her father’s age, offered condolences as soon as Taylor gave her name.
Hearing Diane go on and on about what a wonderful man her dad had been and how he would be sorely missed by anyone who’d met him raised a lump in Taylor’s throat.
Mel Blount saved her from listening to more accolades when he appeared in the doorway to his office and invited her in .
He extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you. Your dad spoke highly of you.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Taylor took a chair in front of Mel’s desk. “How did you and my father first become acquainted?”
Please, please, be a lighthearted story , Taylor thought. If she believed crossing her fingers would make a difference, every digit she possessed would be intertwined right now.
Mel’s lips quirked upward. “It’s a pretty funny story.”
The breath Taylor had been holding came out in a whoosh. “If you have time, I’d love to hear it.”
Mel sat in the chair next to Taylor and swiveled to face her. “This happened close to twenty years ago. My son was ten when this happened, and your dad hadn’t yet made detective.”
Taylor offered an encouraging smile.
“One Saturday afternoon, your dad showed up on our front porch. I admit it gave me quite a jolt to see a police officer when I opened the door.” Mel chuckled. “He was investigating the theft of several garden gnomes.”
“Garden gnomes?” Taylor asked, not sure she’d heard correctly.
“Yes, those funny little statues. White beard. Tall, pointed hat. I guess they’re supposed to be good for gardens, though I’m not sure how.”
Taylor smiled. “Our neighbor, Til Beemis, had one in her garden. Hers was an odd-looking little man pushing a wheelbarrow.”
“Well, apparently, six of these odd little men were reported stolen in a three-block area. A neighbor mentioned seeing my son strolling down the street with one under his arm.” The attorney blew out a breath. “Your dad asked if Sean was around and if he could speak with him.”
Mel’s gaze grew distant, and Taylor could see he was looking back. Then he shook his head. “My son, the gnome thief.”
“He’d taken the gnomes? ”
“The evidence was irrefutable. All six were arranged in the garden area in our backyard. Do you know what Sean said when your dad asked whose gnomes those were?”
Imagining her kind, patient father asking the question of Mel’s son had Taylor’s heart swelling.
“Sean said he heard gnomes help plants grow. These had already helped the gardens where they were, so their work was done there, but our garden needed them.” Mel offered a self-deprecating smile. “The wife and I enjoy having a garden, but we’re not gardeners, if you know what I mean.”
“I do know. Like you, I’ve never had much luck with plants.”
“Perhaps you need a gnome of your own?”
Taylor’s heart lightened. “Perhaps I do.”
“It was clear, at least to me, that your dad wanted to laugh. Instead, in a stern police officer voice, he told Sean that the gnomes were not his and must be returned immediately. When Sean protested that our garden needed them, Bob suggested he save his allowance and buy a gnome of his own.”
“Sounds like something my dad would say.”
“One by one, Sean returned the gnomes and apologized to the homeowners. That’s how Bob and I became acquainted.”
“And eventually, he had you draw up his will.”
“I did several for him. The first was when he and your mother were together. Though policing isn’t as dangerous here as it is in, say, Baltimore, your dad wanted to make sure he had you and your mom covered if anything should happen to him.”
Taylor cleared her throat. She had never worried about her dad not coming home. But she knew her mother had spent some sleepless nights, though she had done her best to hide it. “You said you did several wills for him?”
“When he and your mom split, we redid the will. Then, when he brought Jameson in as a partner, we tweaked it further.”
“So, the last changes made were at that time.”
“No, your dad came in six months ago and made the final change, leaving you his half of the business. Well, more than half. Technically, Bob retained fifty-one percent. Before that, he had his share going to his partner.”
Taylor blinked. “Why the change?”
“He didn’t say.” Mel shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”
“Just to be clear, you’re saying my father’s share of Elite goes to me?”
“That is correct.”
“Dad always talked about how he trusted Jameson with his life, which is why I assumed he would leave his share with him.” Taylor frowned. “I don’t know anything about being a PI or running a detective agency.”
Mel lifted his hands. “I only know that Bob wanted you to have it, along with the house and furnishings, the car and most of the money in his accounts. I have information for you on his life insurance policies. You are the sole beneficiary of all of his policies.”
The amount of her father’s life insurance surprised her, as did learning that he’d left several personal items in the house to her mother.
He’d also left a couple of items to Jameson and a small amount of cash to Glenna.
“Now that we’ve spoken, I’ll inform your mother, Jameson and Glenna of Bob’s bequests.”
“I can gather the items he wanted my mother to have and ship them to her. As well as the items for Jameson.” Taylor assumed Mel would take care of the cash distribution to Glenna.
“I appreciate your willingness to help, but as executor, I must identify, locate and secure all assets, including personal items listed in the will.” Mel glanced down. “The three items he wants your mother to have are in the house. Your father specified the locations of where those can be found. Jameson’s items should be in the office. If you could gather your mother’s items, I will pick them up and get them in the mail to her…unless she’ll be coming to GraceTown?—”
“She won’t.”
“Okay, I’ll have Diane give you a list of the items with their locations in the home. Once you’ve located them, please let me know.”
“What do you mean Bob left half the business to her?” Glenna’s voice rose. She blinked rapidly. “He promised it to you.”
Jameson dropped his gaze to stare at the coffee cup in his hand. He’d just returned from a meeting with the attorney, and his insides still churned.
He sipped the steaming brew, relishing the scalding heat against his tongue. “Bob mentioned his fifty-one percent would go to me if anything happened to him. Obviously, he changed his mind.”
All these years, Jameson had believed Bob Higgs was the one guy who had his back, the one who saw him for who he was, not for who his parents were. The one who wanted the best for him. Unlike others in GraceTown, Bob had never thrown his parents’ actions in his face.
Had Bob’s caring been an act? Had he worried deep down that Jameson was like his parents and couldn’t be trusted?
Glenna paced the office. “I can’t believe he’d do that to you.”
Jameson set the cup down carefully, fighting to keep a tight rein on his emotions. “The only thing that makes sense is maybe he didn’t want to cut his daughter out.”
“Maybe,” Glenna said slowly, not appearing convinced.
Jameson stared at his palms as if they held the answer. Why was he so upset over losing something that had never been his? Because this isn’t just about the business. It went much deeper.
So many conflicting emotions tugged at him. Sorrow, anger and disappointment in a man he’d loved like a father. “Did Bob think giving her his share was the only way I would help her? He had to know I’d do my best by Taylor no matter what.”
“You would have, too.” Glenna, always his staunchest supporter, spoke with conviction.
“Blount said Bob changed the will six months ago. Before that, his share was to go to me.” Jameson tried to recall if anything significant had occurred around that time, but he came up empty.
“Why, then?”
Glenna’s question echoed his own thoughts.
“If Bob were here, I’d ask him.” Jameson blew out a breath. “Then again, if he were here, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
Taylor had given him the impression that she thought he’d get the business. Or had that been only an act?
“You and I talked about this. We knew there was no guarantee and that this was a possibility.” Jameson forced a calm he didn’t feel. “It isn’t the end of the world. I simply have to buy out her share.”
“She now has controlling interest.”
“I’m aware.” Jameson clenched his teeth so tightly his jaw ached.
Glenna gazed at him, her eyes enormous behind her large frames. “Do you think she’ll sell it to you?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Jameson tried for positive, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “This isn’t her world. She has no reason to hold on to Bob’s share.”
Except, Jameson recalled—and his heart sank at the memory—she’d said she wouldn’t have sold the car if she believed her father had wanted her to keep it, at least not until she understood why.
Taylor returned home from Blount’s office, chilled to the bone. The temperature continued to drop while the wind grew progressively stronger. As soon as she was inside, Taylor changed into fleece leggings and an oversized GTPD sweatshirt that had been her dad’s.
Like the coat, wearing his sweatshirt made Taylor feel close to him.
She made herself a cup of hot cocoa and then settled on the sofa to reflect on the day’s events.
Receiving the house and car had been expected, but the business? It was a strange twist that made no sense.
Taylor glanced at the coat she’d tossed over the arm of the sofa when she’d gotten home. Reaching over, she tugged it close, hoping the pockets held fresh words of wisdom.
Finding them empty, she shifted her attention to the coffee table. Before she’d left for her meeting with Mr. Blount, she’d placed the notes she’d already received side by side on the tabletop.
Her gaze settled on the first one. No matter how often she read I love you , the sentiment melted her heart. Especially since she knew her dad had written the message to her.
As she studied the don’t sell part of the note, Taylor experienced a sudden chill.
She’d already concluded that part didn’t refer to the house or the car. The coat was still a possibility. But now she had another contender. Could her dad be telling her not to sell her share of the business to Jameson?
But why? Unless it had something to do with why he’d changed his will…
Her dad would have had his reasons for making the request, and she would have to trust that the reasons would become clear in time.
She had no doubt Jameson would offer to buy her out .
It was anybody's guess how he would react when she told him that she had no plans to sell.
Thirty minutes later, Taylor heard a sound on the front porch. A second later, the doorbell rang.
Taylor tossed aside the cotton throw and padded to the door in her slippers. One glance through the peep had her hurriedly opening the door.
The icy blast of wind that greeted her had her grabbing Jameson’s arm and pulling him inside. “Wow, it’s brutal out there.”
“Just wait,” he said. “Tomorrow, it’ll be sixty and sunny.”
“I hope that’s true.” The unpredictable nature of the weather was often commented on in this part of the country. “Forgive my appearance. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“You look lovely.” Though he smiled, she saw lines of strain edging his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him.
She returned his smile. “May I get you something to drink? I just finished a cup of hot cocoa, but I could be persuaded to have another with you if you’re interested.”
“None for me, but thanks.” He gestured to the chair next to the sofa. “Can we sit? I have something to discuss with you.”
“Must be important to bring you out in this weather.” Taylor pulled a leg up under her after dropping onto the sofa. “What’s up?”
“Like you, I met with Mr. Blount today.” Jameson leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his intense brown eyes focused on her.
Taylor knew they could tiptoe around the subject for several minutes, but that seemed pointless since she knew why he was there. “If you came to ask if I knew my dad planned to leave me his share of the business, I didn’t. ”
Jameson arched a brow.
“Nope. He never mentioned it.” She gave a halfhearted chuckle. “And it never occurred to me that I’d be thinking so soon about his death and what would come after.”
Blowing out a breath, Jameson surged to his feet. “Blount said your dad made the change in the will six months ago. Did he mention being unhappy with me for some reason?”
The brief flash of pain across his face tore at Taylor’s heart.
“He never spoke of you at all.” Feeling awkward sitting while he stood, Taylor rose. “I doubt the change has anything to do with you.”
“How could it not?” Jameson flung out his hands, his voice rising. “How could it not, Taylor? A guy doesn’t just cut a friend out of his will for no reason.”
His anger shimmered like a red haze in the air.
“You’re right.” In contrast to his loud tone, her normal tone sounded almost like a whisper. “It’s a puzzle. One we’ll likely never solve.”
“Sorry.” Jameson raked a hand through his hair and visibly fought for control. “The why doesn’t matter.”
That was what he said, but Taylor saw that the why tore at him.
“Tell me how much you want for his share.”
He’s not going to like this.
Taylor rested her hands on the back of the sofa. “The thing is, Jameson, I won’t be selling my share. Not immediately, anyway.”
Surprise had his eyes widening. “Why not?”
Stepping around the sofa to the coffee table, Taylor scooped up the first note and held it out.
An incredulous look crossed his face. “You honestly think the ‘don’t sell’ refers to his share of the business?”
“What else could it refer to?” Taylor set down the note, and when she straightened, she counted off on her fingers. “We eliminated the house and the car. The only thing left is the business. ”
“And the coat,” he reminded her. “He could have wanted you to keep the coat.”
“I will be keeping the coat as well.”
Visibly fighting for calm, Jameson took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Forget the coat. You’re telling me that you’re going to hold my business hostage because of a scrap of paper?” Though his tone remained carefully controlled, a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Are you serious?”
Taylor lifted her chin. “My father had a reason for first giving me his share of the business and then telling me not to sell.”
“He didn’t tell you not to sell his share,” Jameson stubbornly insisted. “You’re assuming that’s what the note refers to. It could be the coat.”
Taylor refused to be drawn back into this discussion. While she was as much in the dark as he was, she would not take the chance of going against her father’s wishes.
“I can’t believe you’re taking away my business because of a ghost.” He stalked across the room. When he whirled back toward her, his jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes flashed. “I’ll pay a fair price?—”
“This isn’t about money,” Taylor responded. “It’s?—”
“Oh, how could I forget?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s about following a dead man’s wishes, even though there’s no way to be sure this is what he wanted.”
“What we know is that my dad wanted me to have his share of the business.” She met his hot gaze with a cool one. “Not you.”
It was a low blow, and Taylor regretted the jab the instant it passed her lips. But, darn it, she was angry, too.
She’d thought they were friends. His behavior today had her wondering if what had been growing between them had simply been a con. Maybe all he’d ever been after was the business.