Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next morning, the house was too quiet for Cora to sit still.
She needed movement, purpose, something to anchor her until she met with Taylor. She reviewed the deed again and her notes, even Lenora’s handwriting, until her phone buzzed with the notification she’d been waiting for. Taylor Higgs had an opening that afternoon.
A jolt of nerves—anticipation, maybe—went through her. Things were moving. Fast. And for the first time since arriving in GraceTown, she felt ready for whatever came next.
As she stepped into the office of Elite Sleuth Solutions that afternoon, she decided it looked less like a place where mysteries were unraveled and more like a converted insurance agency.
The lobby was modest—two worn leather chairs, a coffee table stacked with dog-eared magazines and the faint, heady scent of lilies rising from a cheerful bouquet on the receptionist’s desk.
Behind it sat a woman with wild, curly brown hair that seemed to defy gravity, oversized glasses perched on her nose and a floral blouse in a pattern that was as exuberant as the blooms beside her. A small nameplate read Glenna Kovacs.
The woman blinked at her with an owl-like stare. “May I help you?”
“I have a meeting with Taylor Higgs,” Cora said. “Cora Summerbell.”
“Ah, yes. She’s expecting you.” Glenna stood and gestured down the hallway. “First door on the right. Go ahead and knock.”
Cora thanked her and walked the short corridor, nerves tightening with each step. She’d barely lifted her hand to knock when the door swung open. She recognized Taylor instantly.
“Cora?”
She nodded.
“I’m Taylor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Taylor gestured her in.
Last night, she’d read Taylor’s bio on the Elite Sleuth Solutions website, along with every client review she could find. The blond twist, the warm brown eyes, the quiet confidence were unmistakable.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” Cora said as she stepped inside.
“Of course.” Taylor motioned to one of the chairs across from her desk. “I looked over the documents you emailed me. I spent last night going through them.”
Cora sat, smoothing her skirt, trying to will her hands to stay still. “And?”
Taylor’s smile faded, replaced by calm precision. “You’ve got something real here. That reverter clause in the deed? It’s strong. And your supporting documents paint a clear picture of Lenora’s intent. Honestly, if I were advising the college, I’d tell them to hit pause.”
Cora exhaled slowly, tension uncoiling. She wasn’t imagining it. Lenora’s voice—her wishes—meant something.
“So it’s not just wishful thinking.”
“No, it’s not.” Taylor leaned forward, clasping her hands. “Now tell me, how far are you willing to take this?”
“All the way.”
Taylor’s brows lifted, impressed despite herself. “Full disclosure: This isn’t the kind of case I usually take.”
Cora’s stomach dipped. “Oh.”
“I don’t mean I’m not going to help you,” Taylor said quickly.
“I’ll absolutely get you started and support you however I can.
But to move this forward, you’ll need someone who specializes in property law—someone who can file the notice of interest, handle communications with Collister and, if necessary, go to court. ”
Cora steadied herself. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“I do.” Taylor’s tone softened. “Ken Edwards. Smart, local, experienced with legacy land disputes and contested-use provisions. He helped the Miller family with an easement issue two years ago—got them a resolution without a trial.”
“He sounds perfect.” Cora reached for her satchel. “If you can make an introduction, I’d be grateful.”
“I can.” Taylor smiled faintly. “And I’ll give him a heads-up. When I mentioned your case in broad strokes this morning, he said he’d be open to reviewing the documents.”
“Do you know what he charges?”
“He’s not cheap,” Taylor admitted, “but he’s fair. Sometimes works on a sliding scale for community-interest cases. And he’s not the type to nickel-and-dime clients.”
Relief flickered through Cora. “Does he require a retainer?”
“Usually a small one to get started,” Taylor said. “But trust me—I’d tell you if it wasn’t worth it.”
Cora nodded. “I can cover that. I’ve got some savings.”
Something in Taylor’s eyes shifted, respect blooming with quiet certainty. “Good. You clearly mean to see this through. People like Ken Edwards respond to that.”
Cora drew in a breath. “This land—it’s more than just a patch of grass and trees. It’s part of Lenora’s story. If I don’t stand up for it, who will?”
Taylor scribbled a note, tore off the page and handed it over. “I’ll call him and send over the documents. Here’s his direct number. He’ll expect your call.”
Cora tucked the slip carefully into her bag. “I really appreciate this,” she said quietly.
Taylor met her gaze. “Don’t thank me yet. Just promise you’ll keep going, even when it gets hard.”
Cora nodded. “I will.”
And she meant it.
For the first time since this began, she felt clear on what needed to be done.
The fight ahead might be complicated. Maybe even messy. But she wasn’t walking into it blindly.
She had direction.
She had purpose.
And she wasn’t turning back.
Cora wrapped both hands around her mug of tea and sat by the window, the warm kitchen light spilling softly across the table.
Outside, night had already fallen, the garden beyond the glass fading into shadow.
The asters and mums still held color—violet, rust and gold.
They stood stubborn and bright against the dark, as if reminding her that belonging sometimes happened on its own.
She felt both deeply rooted and completely adrift.
Ken Edwards had been kind—direct, steady, smart in the way that didn’t need to show off. He’d reviewed the deed and supporting documents, asked sharp questions and listened without rushing. But one question had followed her all the way home.
Are you hoping the land reverts to you? Or do you simply want a say in what’s done with it?
She hadn’t hesitated for even a breath. This wasn’t about ownership. It was about stewardship—making sure the land didn’t turn into asphalt and chain stores. Making sure Lenora’s voice wasn’t erased.
Setting her mug down, Cora glanced at her phone. It sat silent on the counter. She’d almost called Evan twice already.
To tell him about the meeting.
To thank him again for sending her to Taylor.
To ask if he’d like to brainstorm ideas for the property—something that honored Lenora’s dream.
But she hadn’t. She wouldn’t risk putting him in a position that might jeopardize his job, not when he’d already risked enough by helping her. Protecting him mattered more than easing her own loneliness.
She exhaled slowly and counted backward from ten.
On one hand, she had less than two weeks left in this house, a new job that wouldn’t start until after the holidays and savings thinning by the day.
On the other hand, Dodger had promised her extra hours at Cuppa Joe, she had a lead on a room she could rent month-to-month, and she was determined.
A dull ache settled beneath her ribs. She missed certainty. Routine. The comfort of knowing exactly where she belonged.
Her gaze drifted to the deed copy Ken had returned, still sitting on the table with her notes. She thought of something he’d said, almost offhandedly, as they were wrapping up.
Have you thought about what you’d do with the land if the reverter clause holds? What it could become?
She hadn’t answered then. Not out loud.
But now, the thought rose, soft and steady, like a thread being tugged gently through fabric.
The yellow legal pad on the table was blank. Cora stared at it for a long moment. Then, with a sense of something clicking into place, she wrote, Community Literacy Garden.
She underlined it. Twice.
What if this plot of ground could become a green space dedicated to literacy and learning?
Her pencil began to move, ideas tumbling out almost faster than she could catch them.
Story circles. Outdoor reading nook. Little free library stalls.
Raised beds with native flowers. Shaded benches. Story time under the trees.
Volunteer mentors. Literacy workshops. Poetry slams for teens.
Books for all ages. Blankets on the lawn.
Laughter. Belonging. Home.
Her handwriting wasn’t especially neat, but it felt honest.
Alive.
She paused, the pencil hovering above the page.
Not just another library.
A promise kept.
Cora pressed a hand to her heart and closed her eyes. The quiet hum of the dishwasher was the only sound in the room. Her chest ached, but it wasn’t from sadness this time. It was something fuller. Something blooming.
She didn’t know how she’d get the funding. Or navigate zoning boards or permits. Or whom to even approach once the legal tangle was resolved.
But tonight, for the first time, she had a vision on paper.
An idea had taken root.
And before she left GraceTown, she intended to see those roots begin to grow.
“I’m so glad you texted.” Brooke leaned forward, eyes full of concern. “How are you?”
When Cora had reached out to Brooke to ask if she wanted to meet for lunch at Chowtown, she’d expected a barrage of questions about the deed. Instead, Brooke’s first words had been about her.
Warmth spread through Cora’s chest, easing some of the tightness she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. “I’m hanging in there. Mr. Edwards notified Collister’s Legal Department. The sale of the property—and the rezoning permit—are both on hold.”
Brooke exhaled, slicing her chicken sandwich in half with precise, almost irritated movements. “Vivian’s not taking the news well,” she said, picking up one half. “I think she’s upset on Larry’s behalf.”
“I don’t get it.” Cora nudged her salad with her fork, appetite nowhere nearby. “It’s not like the city planned to use the land for a library, and I’m stealing it away.”