Chapter Seven. Rowan
SEVEN
Rowan
“You can’t hide away here in Gran’s house forever,” Sloane, one of my best friends, says as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips from where she sits on the floor.
She absently pets Winnie’s unruly fur while constantly surveying everything in Gran’s study.
“But this place is rather quite remarkable. Especially this room.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
We both look around again at the history lining its shelves and the crazy wall of photos and everything in between.
“It is. But at some point, you’ll have gone through all those stacks of papers and there will be nothing left to hide behind.”
“A girl can dream that they’d be endless, now, can’t she?”
“She can.” She nods and points to a particularly tall stack. “What is all of that?”
“Memories. Receipts from the drug store. Junk mail. Legal shit.” I press my fingers to my eyes, the weight of the day getting to me.
“This room was always off-limits to us if she wasn’t in it.
Now I can see why.” I lift up the closest paper and see one of the first surprises among many that I’m certain I’ll find in here.
“She paid off student loans for a couple of strippers who worked across the river.”
“She what?”
“You know Gran. No doubt she met them somewhere and wanted to help them out.”
“Gran was a legend in the real world and a pariah in the Westmore realm for being compassionate to anyone other than her own kind.”
“She was.” My smile is bittersweet as I think of my shock when I found her letters to the two ladies earlier amid the first stack I tackled. When I look over, Sloane is studying me.
“This is where you feel the closest to her, isn’t it?”
“It’s as eccentric as she is.” I make a noncommittal sound. “Was. That still seems so hard to say. To believe.”
We both fall silent for a beat, but I can hear her laugh echoing down the halls like it was yesterday. I take a sip of my wine and when I look back toward Sloane, she’s still looking at me.
“Are we going to talk about all of this?” she asks.
“All of what?” I feign innocence.
“Well, that huge rock on your finger for one. The blindside of finding out you were engaged through the Westmore telephone game. The whiplash shortly thereafter learning that your betrothed is none other than Chadwick of all fucking people. And then you choosing to hide out here in Gran’s house and avoid the world.
” She shrugs indifferently. “I don’t know.
I think those are all great starting places. ”
“I already explained it to you.” I glance at my finger and tap on the ridiculous ring weighing it down. “Well, except for this earlier today.”
“I figured that meant Chad found you. I knew hiding from him could only last so long.”
“The girl’s got smarts, hence why you’re the lawyer.”
She rolls her eyes. “So you agreed to marry him—the man you’ve been dodging for years—because marriage would give you more voting shares in the company that you still won’t own.
” When I go to refute her, she holds her hand up so she can finish.
“But the marriage is less about the voting shares and more about you claiming your inheritance early despite knowing there is a two-year time period on your nuptials before you can get it?”
“When you put it like that it sounds stupid.”
“But it’s the gist?”
“Yeah. I guess.” I scrub my hands over my face and then look at her as I shake my head. “I just need to feel in control somehow. Can you understand that?”
“Not only do I understand it, but I also encourage it.” She lifts her glass my way. This is why when I needed to confide in someone, I chose her. It doesn’t hurt that she’s a lawyer and might be able to help me on that front.
“And I may have asked Chad that if I agree to do this with him, marry him, that he’d try and influence his uncle to find a work-around to Gran’s two-year codicil.”
She raises her eyebrows and blows out a low whistle. “You’re playing hardball.”
I shrug. “Perhaps. Or maybe it’s more like I’ve heard Chad tell more people than I care to count over the years how his family can get rules bent if need be. So how about getting them bent for me—his soon-to-be wife?”
“His soon-to-be pretend wife.”
“Yes.” I hate that there is judgment in her eyes when they meet mine but also love it because isn’t that what a best friend is supposed to be? Your biggest cheerleader and the person who calls you on the carpet? “It’s the only reason for me to even agree to this—”
“Other than to screw Holden over.”
“Yes. That.” I take a sip of wine and fight that inherent part of me that knows how angry Gran would be with me while justifying it with her own words: Assess.
Adjust. Adapt. Kick ass. “In my head I was thinking that all the men in my life had screwed me over by working the system somehow, so why can’t I? ”
“Again, I’m not going to argue. That man has been in love with you forever.
A type of love that, if it was really real, would have led him to tell you everything that was going on with the company and your brother, rather than hide it.
So yes, I hate that he’ll be hurt because Chad is a good guy, but I fully support you using all means necessary to get what you need, what is rightfully yours, and getting it sooner rather than later. ”
“So the question, my smart, witty friend … is how do I do this? Is it feasible to bypass the addendum? If I were to get the money, what is the best way to use it to hold on to TinSpirits? If none of the above, then how do I use these added shares marrying Chad will net me in my favor when Holden will still be the majority owner?”
“Is this an off-the-record or an on-the-record question?” she asks pointedly.
“It can be any kind of record you want.” I scoot yet another one of Gran’s collections—a jar of pennies—across the desk toward her. “If you need a retainer to make this official under attorney-client privilege, then here you go.”
“Look at you being all crafty.”
I smirk. “I’m not here to win favors from anyone.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” She twists her lips and nods as her expression morphs into business with hard lines and narrowed eyes. “Legally, your options are limited when it comes to Gran’s will and the addendum.”
“You’re supposed to offer support, not squash it,” I say wryly. Then I look at the four bottles of wine she brought with her earlier and remember that I do, in fact, love her despite her brutal honesty.
“You’d want nothing less from me.”
“True, but no doubt, it will still hurt.”
She chuckles in agreement. “So, other than Henry Williams throwing his Juris Doctor out the window and being completely unethical?”
“Yes, other than that.”
“Because that is what you asked Chad to convince his uncle to do, correct? To pretend like the two-year addendum Gran drew up never happened since the only two people who knew about it were you and him.”
I twist my lips. It was a big ask, a huge one. And I think Chad wants to prove his worth to me so desperately, he just might push for it.
“I didn’t give specifics about the addendum—just that it held a time frame to receive my inheritance—but yes, I did ask him if he’d talk to his uncle and see if maybe he could bend the rules for me.”
She whistles, low and long, and I swear I can feel the judgment like a spray of perfume misting my skin. “Good thing this is off the record.” She scoots the jar of pennies closer to her and chuckles. “But is now covered by attorney-client privilege.”
“Good thing.”
“Is it feasible to disregard the addendum? Well, the main argument one could use with the addition of the two-year parameter is that Gran wasn’t of sound mind. But that is no longer valid seeing as the question would have had to have been raised before she signed anything.”
“Shit.” Which is why asking Chad to pressure his uncle is that much more important.
“My other suggestion on how to deem it null and void would be if it weren’t executed, or her signing it wasn’t witnessed, but everything is electronic these days—”
“Not my gran. She was old-school and refused to do any kind of electronic signature.”
“Well, that’s even harder to prove then, given it’d be in her penmanship.”
“Gah. I know something is hinky with it. I can feel it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s stupid.” I scrunch my nose and heat creeps up my cheeks. But it’s Sloane. She knows every kiss, every breakup, every everything I’ve done. “I had a dream when I was in Georgia. Gran was in it. We were in this room.”
“And that’s why you’re going through all these stacks? Because you think Gran was telling you something?”
I chuckle nervously. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“No, honey. It sounds like grief and coping with it. This is where you feel closest to her. Of course you’re going to have dreams about her and read into every single thing about them. That’s what everyone does.”
She meets my eyes and compassion oozes out of her. “If you tell anyone about this and how I’m losing my mind I’m going to deny it and blame it on the wine.”
Her smile is lightning quick. “Deal. Besides, you have more than enough blackmail material on me, so it’s a nonstarter.”
My smile is quickly replaced with a groan as I rest my head back in frustration. “No doubt good ol’ Henry would blur some lines if my name were Rhett.”
She lifts her eyebrows and contemplates my comment. “You’re serious about that, aren’t you? You really think he’d risk his law license for your brother?”
“I’m only hoping he’d risk it for Chad at this point because that means it would benefit me.” I huff. “I don’t put anything past anyone with the last name Rothschild, Williams, or Knight these days.”
“Even the Williams you’ve agreed to marry?”
If looks could kill, she’d be dead … but she has a point. “I’m reserving judgment, but so far he’s the only man in my life encouraging me and telling me what I want is worth fighting for.”