Chapter 8
“Are you sure Wyatt’s okay?” Jessica’s landlord, Joan Mandrill, asked as she climbed onto one of the barstools. Wyatt had been off for most of the week after another round of daycare viruses had decimated his household.
Jessica handed the older woman a mocktail with extra cherries and a pink umbrella that matched her hair. “He said it’s nothing serious, just another bug the girls brought home.”
Joan fidgeted with the strap of her pink handbag. Jessica’s hand stilled, and she waited, her intuition whispering that something was up because Joan looked nervous. Joan Mandrill never looked nervous. Alongside Lulu James, she was the unofficial queen of Wattle Junction.
“I was hoping we’d get a minute to chat.” Joan’s smile trembled, and Jessica reached for the dishcloth she’d tucked in the front of her apron, wringing it in her hands.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t want you to panic, okay?”
Alarm bells started ringing in Jessica’s mind.
“I’ve had an offer on my house.”
But Joan’s house wasn’t on the market. And it was Jessica and Sam’s home.
“It’s a good offer, and it got me thinking about the future.”
Jessica breathed deeply. No. No, please.
This was her own fault. She’d let herself become too attached to the cottage, knowing it belonged to someone else.
She wouldn’t cry. Not in public. Jessica also wouldn’t begrudge a sweet old lady from doing the best thing for herself with her own property.
She cleared her throat. “Congratulations, Joan. That’s great news. ”
“I spoke to Owen. If I do sell, whoever buys it will have to honour your existing lease, which means we’ll have to establish a proper lease.
” As it was, Jessica and Joan had an old-fashioned handshake deal.
“Would you be open to signing one for twelve months? Any longer and they probably won’t agree.
But this would give you plenty of time to find somewhere else. ”
They’d have to move and start over. Again.
“Sure. That makes sense. I can talk to Wyatt and see if the apartment here is still available too. I’ll get out of your way as soon as possible.
” Jessica tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.
Living on top of a pub with a four-year-old wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be convenient for work.
“There’s no need to rush. I’m sorry to do this to you.”
“It’s fine.” And it would be, even if this could nullify her argument to Rob about the stability she and Sam had in Wattle Junction.
But Jessica was like a cat. She always landed on her feet.
This would be a minor setback. If she pivoted quickly and found a new home, this might barely even register as a blip.
At least, that’s what she told herself. It would be silly to cry over something like this.
But still the tears came and threatened to spill over her lashes.
She busied herself wiping down the bar, swallowing hard as she tried to get herself together.
Sam was going to be devastated. When she could, Jessica looked up, and the sympathy in Joan’s gaze was too much.
Thankfully, the older woman took control of the conversation, steering it in a different, albeit predictable, direction.
“I’m impressed you and Teddy managed to keep things quiet for so long. No one suspected a thing! Lulu is positively tickled. Maybe you and Sam could move in—”
“It’s nothing serious,” Jessica said for the millionth time that week.
After she’d denied their relationship the first few times she’d been asked about it and received knowing smirks, she’d given up.
And, okay, yeah, maybe her confidence had got a nice boost from some of the curious looks people had sent her way when they’d heard Teddy wanted her.
The biggest bonus had been Rob backing off …
but like always, now the lie was coming back to bite her on the ass.
“Pshhhh. I’ve heard the rumours. All the James boys are heartbreakers, but Teddy? He’s always been the playboy. There’s going to be a long line of ladies who want to know how you managed to lock him down. Lord knows many have tried, even if he didn’t realise.”
Apparently, all they needed to do was look helpless.
“Unfortunately, there’s also a long line of people waiting for a drink, so I’d better …” Jessica gestured towards the group of men at the other end of the bar.
“Yes, yes. I’ll be in touch about the house, okay?” Joan said.
“Sure.”
And Jessica would start looking for a new home.
The next day, Jessica was halfway through filling a pint glass with a hefeweizen the pub was trialling when Teddy slipped behind the bar and pulled an apron over his dark grey Henley.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Teddy flashed her a quick smile and pushed his sleeves to his elbows. “Olive’s sick and Wyatt isn’t up to coming in. He called and asked if I could pick up another shift.”
Wonderful. There went her plan to keep her distance from Teddy and hope the rumours died down.
“Excuse me, are you Jessica Sonoto?” a man in a pinstripe suit asked, setting a leather briefcase on the mahogany bar.
She eyed him warily. “I am.”
“Do you have a minute?”
Jessica laughed and gestured around the bar. It wasn’t rammed, but there were too many patrons for Teddy to manage on his own. “Not really.”
“I’ll wait,” the man said and pulled out his phone.
“Who are you?” she asked. “And how did you find me?” She flushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Way to make it sound like she’d been in witness protection or something.
“I’m Phillip Mathers, and I represent Richard Johnson’s estate.”
She’d been working her way up to calling her father’s lawyer. But she’d needed some time to get her head right.
“Your mother told me you’d be here. We need to speak. The matter is rather urgent.”
Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Thank God she’d suggested they discuss things in one of the private dining rooms because Cara had been right.
If Jessica had the kind of relationship where she texted her mother when big things happened in her life, the message about this meeting would start with a string of head-exploding emojis.
When Phillip Mathers said how much Jessica was going to inherit, she had to hold on to the table.
It was a life-changing amount of money. No wonder Cara was sniffing around.
Although, she would’ve done the same thing for a few thousand.
But this was a lot more than that. Four million dollars to be exact.
“I don’t understand,” Jessica said.
“Richard’s wife passed away two months before he did. With no other living family, you are his sole beneficiary. You get everything, Ms Sonoto.”
It didn’t make sense. Her father had known about her. But he’d never made the time to pick up the phone or try to meet her, and now he wanted her to have all this money? And he couldn’t even leave her a note?
“What Mr Johnson has established is uncommon, but I’m here to walk you through the specific conditions he’s applied to your inheritance.”
It was as if Phillip were speaking another language. Possibly even an alien one, because these things didn’t happen in real life. And on the microscopic chance that they did, they didn’t happen to Jessica.
“Most conditional bequests take the form of ‘the beneficiary must be twenty-five years old’ or similar. And there is one of those on this trust. You’ll be able to access it when you are thirty years old. Unless you can meet the other condition Mr Johnson specified.”
“I have a son,” Jessica said. “Does having a dependent help?”
Phillip’s smile was indulgent. “Unfortunately not. Mr Johnson was quite specific. The only other way to access your inheritance before your thirtieth birthday is if you are legally married.”
What was that old saying? If something’s too good to be true, then it probably is.
And could Jessica have a minute to appreciate the ridiculous irony of a man who’d broken his own wedding vows insisting that she be married to access her inheritance?
Had he believed women needed a man around to manage their money?
Maybe her mother was right and Richard had been all about control.
But four million dollars? She could buy a house … maybe even Joan’s? Make it officially theirs. Knit the stability of a real home into the background of Sam’s childhood memories.
A shadow passed the doorway, and Teddy ambled past, boxes stacked in his muscular arms.
He’d said he needed a fake girlfriend.
And now she needed a fake husband.
The plan rapidly forming in her mind was bonkers. Absolutely top-tier, bananas-level ludicrous.
But … Teddy caught her gaze and tossed her a wink, his easy smile firmly back in place.
If Jessica had to be fake married to someone, it wouldn’t suck for it to be Teddy.
And out of all the people she knew who might agree to something so preposterous? Teddy James was the one.