Chapter 4 Jackson
Jackson
“Just give me a summary and cover the main bases.” On the opposite side of the desk to his grandmother’s attorney, Jackson leaned back in his chair.
Henderson cleared her throat, reassuringly candid in her role as executor.
“Simply put, Esther left everything to you. It was originally split equally between you and Dominic but, in more recent years, she amended her will so that the house, its contents, and the residue of her estate, including royalties, all goes to you.” Jackson’s jaw tightened at the mention of his brother.
“It’s all very standard, as far as that goes. ”
“‘As far as that goes’? Is there something that isn’t standard?”
“There are a few anomalies I should point out. The one-bedroom carriage house within the grounds of the property isn’t part of the estate.
Your grandmother sold it to Hazel Aiken about fifteen years ago, along with the small plot of land it sits on.
Esther also left a personal letter for you.
” Henderson indicated a pale envelope on the desk.
“Wait. You said ‘royalties’ earlier. What royalties?”
“From her book sales.” The attorney thumbed through the sheets of letter-size paper, pulling one out from the middle. “Esther averaged sales of around eight to ten thousand books a year per title. It didn’t make her a fortune, but the royalties will now come to you.”
“I didn’t know she was an author.” Jackson hadn’t even paused to think of his grandmother as a person; she’d been relegated to a distant memory for a long time now.
“She wrote crime fiction under the name of E.V. Huxley. There are eleven titles in print so far, with one more yet to publish. I made a point of reading them once I met her. Esther kindly signed my copies.” Henderson smiled as she slid the envelope across the desk. Jackson made no move to reach for it.
Pushing up from his chair, he strode to the window, staring down onto the main street of Pine Springs, his back to the room. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what it says.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure it would be better if—”
“Please.”
Behind him, he heard paper unfolding and Henderson began to read.
Dear Jackson,
I am so sorry we have not been able to have this conversation in person.
I hope life is treating you well. You may not believe it, but I have thought of you often.
Amity Court is very dear to me, though I appreciate that you may consider it more of a liability. It’s been expensive to upkeep and I’m sorry I haven’t managed to leave it in a better state than it is.
Whatever you want to do with the house is your choice. It isn’t my intention to dictate how you live your life. Sell Amity Court if you wish and I hope that the proceeds allow you to do something truly fabulous with my blessing.
In return, I ask only that the following requests are adhered to:
You reside at Amity Court for one solid month from the date of receiving this letter.
Leah Raven continues to live and work in the house, either until it is sold or for a period of up to eight months, so she can complete and submit my final book.
You get to know the house. Feel the peace. Enjoy Leah’s company. Don’t let two weeks go by without an overnight stay while it remains in your ownership.
Give Leah a complimentary ticket to this year’s fundraising event for the Dominic Hale Foundation.
If you choose to sell, and once the sale goes through, make a gift to Leah of whatever you see fit from the proceeds. I leave the amount entirely up to you.
If Leah freely chooses to leave Amity Court, that is her prerogative. If she wishes to stay but is made to leave, the entirety of my estate will revert into a trust providing college scholarships for aspiring writers from impoverished backgrounds. Likewise if any of the above requests are not met.
I wish you much happiness, good fortune, and contentment in the rest of your life.
Your loving grandmother,
Esther Hale
Jackson turned in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The attorney looked up. “Miss Raven isn’t exactly a beneficiary, or I would have contacted her directly. What you have here from your grandmother is a list of requests. While there is some flexibility, I must highlight that they are legally binding.”
“She must have been losing it.” Jackson curled a finger into the collar of his shirt.
“Those requests are bizarre. I can’t just disappear from the office for a month while I ‘feel the peace.’” He stalked over to the desk.
“Why do I have to babysit Leah Raven? Why can’t she live and work somewhere else?
And what’s to stop me giving her a pocketful of loose change once the sale goes through?
If it’s really up to me.” Jackson glared at his hands and made a deliberate attempt to relax them.
Henderson slid the letter back into its envelope.
“Esther and Miss Raven had become close. It’s my understanding that your grandmother wanted to ensure she was not instantly without a place to live, and I have the money to pay her wages here for you.
However, any information you divulge at this stage is up to you, and the amount you give Miss Raven from the sale of the house is, as Esther says, yours to decide. ”
Leah’s hesitant smile flashed into his thoughts.
He didn’t know how she’d managed to twist his grandmother around her finger or what her gameplan was, but she’d find it harder to mess with him.
“The house will be going straight on the market, so she won’t be there for long.
I’ll have to think about the rest.” He picked up the envelope, shook hands with the attorney, and thanked her for her time.
“I’ll email over copies of everything. Please contact me with any questions,” Henderson prompted, as she guided him back to the reception area.
Jackson called Oliver, his PA, from the car and gave him a rundown of the situation.
“Can you use my spare key and grab everything I need to stay in Pine Springs for a bit longer? Pack me some warm clothes—enough for a month—because this house is fucking freezing.” He caught the surprise in Ollie’s inbreath.
“I know—it’s not my choice, believe me. The whole thing is out of my hands.
Shift my meetings to online and tell me if anyone has a problem with that. I’ll figure something out.”
“Your father won’t like this!” Oliver gave a dark chuckle.
“Well, he’s not the one stuck here, so he doesn’t get to have a say.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine you’re thrilled. It’s a bit unexpected.”
Jackson scowled at the road. “You have no idea.”
“I’ll get your stuff packed up tonight. What’s the house like?” Ollie asked curiously.
“Could be gorgeous but it isn’t. Everything’s old or broken. There’s hardly any hot water. And I have a tenant from hell who’s living rent-free—I’m just supposed to put up with her.” He could hear the frustration bleeding through his words.
So, it seemed, could Ollie. “You’ll work it out. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” There was sympathy in the offer before he hung up, promising to get one of the site guys to deliver everything Jackson needed.
At Amity Court, he set himself up in a small room downstairs, at the opposite end of the corridor to where Leah was working in the study.
He closed the door, to add another barrier to the multiple walls between them.
Almost immediately, he was forced to open it again as his laptop refused to connect to the Wi-Fi.
Less than an hour later, he’d decamped with a string of curses to the dining table in search of a more reliable signal.
How the hell was he supposed to work for a month like this?
When Leah passed through, heading for the kitchen, Jackson was standing in the bay window, looking out at the front yard, his cell pressed to his ear.
He’d made valuation appointments with three local realtors, trying to ignore the sounds of her moving around quietly in the room next door, enraged by the situation, her presence, her existence.
Only after she’d returned to the study did he turn to find that Leah had slid a fresh cup of coffee and the sugar bowl onto the table behind him.
Her charm tactics wouldn’t work on him, he thought, even as his fingers closed around the mug with gratitude.
Having skipped lunch and breakfast, Jackson was ready to chew off his own arm by six o’clock.
He whisked up a ham and cheese omelet, and ate it at the breakfast bar in less time than it took to cook.
The evening stretched ahead and the temperature inside the house began to plummet.
Gathering up his work from the dining table, he headed upstairs, dialing Niamh’s number as he went.
“Hi, babe—we were just talking about you.” Her voice had the backing track of tinkling glasses and hushed conversations.
“We?” he asked.
“Your parents invited my mother and I to join them for dinner. We’re at Gigliano’s.” She named one of his father’s favorite places to eat.
Jackson grunted. There was irony in Niamh having his parents’ approval to this extent.
God knew he rarely secured it for himself.
Under immense pressure from both families to hit it off, they’d dated for a while a year ago but agreed there was no spark.
However, he found her company undemanding, so they often acted as each other’s plus-one.
It was like having a girlfriend without the hassle or time commitment.
His parents didn’t try to hide their displeasure at his refusal to fall in line.
He could tell they still hoped to wear him down.
“I really can’t chat now. I don’t want to be rude.” Niamh sounded distracted. “When will you be back?”
“That’s what I was calling about. I’m not going to make it to the MCA exhibition next weekend. I have to stay here for now.”
“No problem. I’ll find someone else to go with.” She was unperturbed.
“When I’ve met with some realtors and worked out a plan, I’ll call again.” He asked her to pass on a general greeting to his parents and her mother, and by the time he hung up, his mind was already back on work.
Flicking through his calendar, Jackson slid inexorably into the blackhole of his inbox and another couple of hours went by. When he next looked up, it was completely dark and he was desperate for a drink. Heading downstairs, he rubbed his hands together for warmth.
Fuck, it was cold. No wonder the house smelled so damp and musty. What the hell had it been like over the worst of the winter?
He paused in the doorway to the living room.
Obviously used to the arctic conditions, Leah was watching television from beneath the feathery nest of her comforter on the floral couch. He scowled at the huge fireplace. “Don’t you ever light that?”
Leah pressed pause on the remote. “We’ve run out of logs.”
Not for the first time, Jackson wondered why his grandmother hadn’t asked for help from any of his family. A twinge of guilt curdled in his stomach that they hadn’t been in touch to offer it.
He eyed the grate. “Has it been swept?”
“Esther had it done every year at the end of summer.”
Jackson found himself distracted by the frozen image on the screen. “You’re watching Sharknado?”
Leah pushed herself more upright, a wary lift to her lips. “I’m a sucker for a disaster movie. The cheesier the better.”
He stepped into the room and leaned on the back of an armchair. “Which one is it?”
“The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time. Three is my favorite, though. Sharks, tornados, and rollercoasters equal disaster-movie perfection.”
The fact that Jackson secretly agreed annoyed him. He headed for the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve made hot chocolate.”
He meant to take his drink and go back upstairs, but it had been a long day and his brain was fuzzy.
When he re-entered the living room, Leah had unpaused the movie.
On the screen, a time vortex transported the actors from medieval Camelot to the American Revolutionary War and Jackson was instantly drawn in.
He sank into the armchair. It was his fucking house anyway. Why should he leave?
They watched most of the movie without talking, the temporary ceasefire settling between them, paper-thin and fragile.
Toward the end, Jackson caught Leah looking at him and frowned. “What?”
“You look tired.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s hardly surprising. You must have a lot on your plate.” Leah dialed the smile up a notch, her warmth and sympathy unexpected. “Is there anything I could do to help?”
“You could move out.” It was worth a try.
This forced stay at Amity Court would be fractionally more bearable if he could suffer the four weeks alone.
When she made no reply, he turned his gaze back to the television with a deep exhale.
“Fine. I’ve got three realtors coming to look around the house tomorrow—you can help by staying out of the way. ”