Chapter 3
When the doorbell rang at noon the next day, I jogged to the foyer and opened the door. Mr. Douglas had been my grandfather’s lawyer for the past five years. He had taken over when the previous lawyer retired, obviously the same firm, just a different lawyer—ironically, with the same name.
“Mr. Douglas, how are you?” I asked, as I stepped aside to allow him entry into the house.
“Please, call me Caleb.”
He flashed an attractive grin and bore curly, black hair, perfect teeth, and golden-brown eyes.
He was clean-shaven and had cheekbones that most women would envy.
I remember that he was always so accommodating where my grandfather was concerned, and I appreciated that.
He was oozing with confidence—that didn’t quite spill into arrogance.
I offered my hand and introduced myself. He took my hand gently in his.
“Joslyn; Raymond was my grandfather.”
I was trying not to let my mind or my eyes wander. He was a specimen to be sure, but I was beginning to think I was a magnet for hot, mysterious men. Was that really something to complain about? What the hell, Jos; pull it together.
When we reached the dining room, I gestured toward the chair at the head of the table for Caleb to sit.
I slid into the chair next to my mother as everyone exchanged pleasantries and settled in to eat.
We began passing dishes around the table.
A pitcher of iced tea and lemonade circulated, each person pouring their drink of choice into the glasses positioned near their plates.
Serving bowls overflowing with food worked their way around the table as we filled our plates.
We engaged in small talk and, of course, more conversations about Grandpa.
Once we were finished eating, I stood up and began to clear the dirty plates and leftover food from the table.
Charlotte rose from her chair to help me.
We placed the dishes near the sink and set the serving dishes of food on the kitchen counter, and I picked up a platter of cookies and a small stack of plates and napkins.
Charlotte placed a carafe of coffee on a waiting silver tray that held cream, sugar, and cups.
Back in the dining room, the two of us put the items on the table and started to serve coffee and dessert. Caleb pulled out his briefcase from under the edge of the table and opened it, removing a folder containing my grandfather’s will, along with a stack of other official-looking documents.
“I would like to start off by extending my deepest condolences. I worked extensively with Mr. Lawson when I made partner. I had known Ray for practically my entire life. He and my father were very good friends, in addition to having an amazing working relationship.”
I hadn’t realized that this was the son of my grandfather’s previous lawyer—not that it mattered. I felt sort of silly for not coming to that conclusion on my own.
“I will get right to it.”
Reading the will aloud to the four of us, he split up assets and transferred ownership of vehicles, properties, stocks, bonds, and even my grandfather’s most prized possessions.
All of his things, and his lifelong passions, were split between the four people that knew him better than anyone else on the planet.
He had owned five different properties: the home that he resided in, which we were currently occupying in Havenwood, Michigan; a romantic villa in Italy that had the uncanny ability to make things slow down—no one ever seemed to be in a hurry there.
My mother once told me that it was where my grandparents had gotten married.
I could imagine how beautiful that would have been—the warm light, the vineyard air, the promise of forever tucked into foreign soil.
There was an old manor in Ireland, modest in size but rich in memory. That is where I met Ronan and spent so many summers woven into the fabric of my childhood. I stopped going when my world shifted toward friends at home and boys—of course.
There was a home in Alaska, isolated but always stocked with provisions, as though it anticipated the need for survival.
It had always struck me as odd—it’s cold, it’s dark a lot, or it’s day all the time.
There is snow—lots of it—and it’s cold. The house was truly beautiful though, especially with the aforementioned snow.
Mountains in the background offered views that had to be seen to be believed.
It was magical to behold and would rob you of words and take your breath away.
The nights were so clear there. Meteor showers were amazing to watch, and the Aurora Borealis could make it my favorite place on Earth—given the chance.
Last was the plantation in Louisiana, a vast stretch of land holding well over a hundred years of history.
Willow trees lined the long driveway like silent sentries.
It was quiet there—save for the crickets at night and the rustling of the leaves when the faint breeze would blow through. The air always felt heavy with stories.
Who was I kidding? Each of the houses was extraordinary in its own way.
Each had served a purpose in his life. Most of them were deep in the wilderness, positioned curiously close to areas known for “activity.” Local folklore clung to those places.
It was as though my grandfather, even now, was nudging us forward—urging us to continue his work.
I would be lying if I said that it didn’t interest me at all.
He had made it interesting ever since I was a child.
I loved the stories and the things he would show us.
It was like he was always on an adventure; he would light up, and those were my favorite memories of him.
When he would become so animated in the retelling of his tales that he had lived through first-hand.
He would come alive, changing his voice when he was pretending to be one of his colleagues in the tale.
He talked with his hands, and I always thought it added to the excitement.
Once all the legalities were concluded, ownership of every piece of property and all his remaining assets and funds had changed hands.
A few of his relics and items he acquired throughout his career were donated to the college, but that was the extent of anyone outside the family receiving anything.
The manor in Ireland was given to my cousin. Aunt Victoria received the plantation house in Louisiana. My mother was beaming and just beside herself that my grandfather had left her the villa in Italy. The house in Alaska was also left to me. I wasn’t expecting to receive a second property.
This house in Michigan, though—was home. It was the one place I felt that I was rooted. If my grandpa knew the four of us as well as I believed he did, then he knew that we would never deny one another access to any of the homes. We had always shared space, shared laughter, shared grief.
The truth was there were parts of him ingrained into each of these dwellings, scattered across the globe. Now he was gone and they were entrusted to us; along with all of the memories encompassed within. The houses and the memories unchanged—us, not so much.
The meeting concluded, and everyone began to get up from the table. Caleb proclaimed that there was one final thing that he was asked to pass along. He pulled an envelope from his briefcase as everyone paused. Setting it on the table, he leaned forward and slid it across the table toward me.
“I am to pass this envelope along to Joslyn, as the key and note within are directly related to this house, which is part of her inheritance.”
I picked it up and held it in my hands. The paper was heavy, textured, and appeared as though not a soul had touched it since he inscribed my name on the front.
The handwriting was his; I always thought that his penmanship was exceptionally elegant for a man.
I would open it later when I was alone. When I looked up from the envelope, everyone in the room was staring at me.
“I prefer to open it when I’m alone.”
I stood up and exited the dining room, trying to escape their curious stares. They filed out of the room behind me, as we walked Mr. Douglas to the door. When I shook his hand, his grip was gentle, and he ran his thumb over my knuckles lightly. I was hoping that none of them had noticed.
“So, does this mean you will use this house as your residence?” He held my hand in his.
“To be honest with you, that is more than likely exactly what will happen. I have no plans to move to Alaska. I’m certain we will see each other again soon.
I have recently come into quite a bit of money and should probably get some of my affairs in order.
If my grandfather trusted your firm, then I see no reason not to as well. ”
His smile widened and he released my hand. “I will look forward to hearing from you then.”
He turned and exited the house. Charlotte closed the door behind him. As soon as it was shut, my cousin turned to me and let out a long, low whistle.
“That was one fine man.”
She exited the room, going in the direction of the kitchen. I followed her and began scraping food into the garbage disposal as she was emptying glasses into the sink.
“Don’t you think he was extremely attractive, Jos?”
She nudged me with her elbow. She was perceptive where men and their attention were concerned. I’m not sure what reason I had to think I was the only one that had noticed.
“He was definitely easy to look at; he’s smart, has a good job, but that is all we know about him, Char.” I shrugged my shoulders. I tended to be more cautious than my cousin; at least, I liked to believe I was.