Chapter 19 #2
“Aaron,” he said. “I used to go by it, but switched in college. There were always several other Aarons in my classes. Evan seemed easier.”
“Huh.” She smiled faintly. “Interesting.”
“I guess.” He visibly shifted gears. “I’ve gone over everything you gave me. Twice.”
She sat up straighter. “And?”
“I have questions,” he said, reaching for the briefcase, “but more than that, I think you’re right to be concerned.”
Cora folded her hands in her lap as he drew out a small stack of papers.
Just like that, the emotional current between them didn’t disappear—it simply shifted. What had been memory and warmth became something steadier, more grounded. They were still on the same side, standing together in defense of something else.
Lenora’s legacy.
Evan set the copies Cora had given him, neatly tabbed and clipped, on the table between them.
“The deed itself is solid,” he said. “It’s old, but the language is clear enough. Lenora included a reverter clause tied to the property’s use. Specifically, that the land must be maintained for educational and literary purposes. If not, then it reverts to the Summerbell family.”
Cora let out a slow breath. “That’s what I thought.”
“What makes this more complex,” he continued, “is that the college doesn’t technically own the land outright. They hold it, but only under the conditions she specified. They’ve been treating it as if it’s free and clear, something they can sell to the highest bidder. That’s not the case.”
“So the reverter clause is still valid?”
“Perhaps.” He met her eyes. “But it’ll depend on how a court interprets her language, how the transfer was recorded and whether Collister argues the clause is outdated or unenforceable.”
“But it’s not…is it?”
“The other documents you found—the ledger entries, her letters, the journal pages—help establish her intent. She wasn’t vague. She made her wishes known in writing.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
“And yet,” Cora said softly, “they were going to sell it anyway.”
“We searched for the deed but weren’t able to locate it,” he admitted. “It was probably misfiled decades ago. Where did you find it?”
“It was tucked in with Lenora’s personal papers. Nothing labeled. Nothing obvious.”
“I’d say you found it just in time.”
“Collister was ready to sell the property to Larry Soukup,” she said, the name sour on her tongue. “I heard he was planning to build a glorified strip mall on it.”
“Once the deal closed, the land would’ve been his to do with as he pleased,” Evan said quietly.
Cora drew in a breath. “I do have a position waiting for me in Ohio,” she said, her tone even but threaded with hesitation, “but I’d like to stay in GraceTown if I can. There’s a small chance I could be offered a librarian role here.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Still, something tells me that if I push too hard to stop the sale, that chance disappears. But if I stay quiet…” Her voice softened. “I lose something far more important—the chance to honor her legacy.”
Evan studied her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before it settled into quiet respect. “You’ve already done more than most people would. But if you decide to stop the sale, you’ll need to act quickly.”
Cora’s pulse kicked up, quiet but determined.
She sat up straighter. “What do I do first?”
Evan didn’t answer immediately. He looked at her—steady, thoughtful—then toward the papers.
“Before we go any further,” he said, his voice low but deliberate, “I need to be clear that I’m not acting as your attorney.”
“I didn’t assume—” she began, but he was already shaking his head.
“What we’re discussing could be viewed as a conflict of interest. I work for Collister. My job is to represent the college’s interests. And while I’m not handling the land sale directly, I’m still part of the department. This…gets close to the line.”
Her heart sank. “So you can’t help.”
“I didn’t say that.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m not giving you legal advice as your lawyer. I’m helping you as someone who cares about doing what’s right.”
Relief—and something warmer—spread through her.
“All right,” she said quietly. “As someone who cares, what do you suggest?”
“You’ll need to find a local attorney, someone who can formally represent your interests. I can give you a couple of names—people I trust who are competent and discreet.”
She nodded, already bracing for what might come next.
“In the meantime,” he said, “file a notice of interest with the county to flag the reverter clause. It won’t stop a sale outright, but it puts anyone reviewing the title on notice. If Collister tries to proceed without addressing it, they do so at a risk.”
“And that could buy us time.”
“It could buy you time,” he clarified. “Enough for your attorney to send a formal letter of objection. Once that’s done, they’ll have no choice but to pause.”
Cora let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “And do you think they will?”
“The deed language may not be airtight, but it’s strong. Lenora’s intent is well documented. No one wants this to go to court if it can be resolved quietly.”
“Soukup will fight it.”
Evan’s jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his voice was easy. “He has connections. Money. Influence. But none of that changes what Lenora wrote—or what’s right.”
Cora’s throat tightened. “I just want to honor her wishes.”
“You are,” he said softly.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling between them.
Then Evan lifted the top page. “Let me highlight a few sections you’ll want to bring to the attorney’s attention. It’ll make things easier.”
Cora watched him make notes on the copy of the deed—calm, focused, methodical—and something inside her steadied.
He slid the marked-up deed toward her. “That section will be important,” he said, pointing. “It references the original grantor’s language and terms. Any attorney worth their license will want to lead with that.”
Cora glanced down at the pages. Her fingers brushed the edge of the paper, but her mind was already racing ahead.
“I’m worried the attorney I see will just tell me it’s complicated and send me on my way.”
Evan gave a quiet laugh and leaned back slightly. “You won’t get that from the woman at the top of my list of recommendations.”
Her brows lifted. “Who is she?”
“Taylor Higgs,” he said, relaxing a fraction. “She and her husband, Jameson Fox, run the PI firm here in town, Elite Sleuth Solutions.”
Cora blinked. “PI firm?”
“Jameson’s a former detective,” Evan explained. “Taylor used to be a corporate attorney in Chicago. She shifted into investigative work when she moved back to GraceTown.”
“You’ve worked with her?”
“Not on cases here, but we worked at the same firm in Chicago.” A faint, almost nostalgic smile.
“Different departments, but I remember her well—sharp, direct, fiercely ethical. She came back to GraceTown to handle her father’s estate after he died, and she decided to stay.
Told me she wanted to do meaningful work that didn’t drain her soul. ”
“A woman after my own heart,” Cora murmured.
“She’s the real deal. And she won’t be intimidated by Soukup, the complexity of the case or anything else.”
“And you think she’d take this on?”
“She’s selective,” he said, “but although I can’t speak for her, I believe she’ll make time for this, especially once she sees the deed. I’ll give her a heads-up, and you can decide after you meet if she’s a good fit.”
Cora gave a slow nod, a flicker of calm settling through her.
“Thank you,” she said, resisting the urge to reach for his hand. “For everything. I know you can’t do more—officially—but you didn’t have to help at all.”
Their eyes held for a long moment. And though so much was still uncertain, Cora no longer felt like she was standing on shaky ground. She had a path forward, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was facing it alone.
Evan gathered his papers, sliding them neatly into his briefcase, but he didn’t stand right away.
For a long moment, he just looked at her—steady, thoughtful, with something almost gentle in his expression.
“Cora,” he said softly, “you’re doing the right thing. Lenora would be proud.”
Warmth unfurled in her chest, unexpected and achingly familiar.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded once, then rose. She walked him to the door, their steps falling into an almost unconscious rhythm.
When he reached for the handle, he hesitated, not long, not dramatically, just enough for her breath to still.
“It was good being here,” he said quietly. “Good…talking with you.”
The words were simple.
But the way he said them?
Like something remembered.
Like something beginning.
As he walked away, sunlight brushed his shoulders, and for a moment, Cora simply watched him go. Something settled low and warm in her chest, quiet, steady, impossible to explain. Not certainty. Not hope. Just…awareness.
Whatever this was between them, it wasn’t done unfolding.