Chapter 4
O ver my dead body.
Lifting her skirts a little, Annie trudged toward the marquee, her curls bobbing on her head with every step.
If only she had listened when Grandma Ann asked her to consider if Liam was the one. But she was so in love, or in hindsight, Annie was in love with her idea about Liam and the marriage. The adventures they had planned together, going to exotic places, living the high life.
And they had travelled, for four years, almost to the day. But instead of admiring the wonders of nature or experiencing the bustle of exotic cities, somehow the day would always end in a dingy casino or a bar with a slot machine. Annie had missed the signs, and when one day she had checked their savings account, half of her marriage trust fund had already been gone.
Annie’s lips formed a thin white line, and a bitter taste filled her mouth. She gripped the lacy material of her dress so hard that her knuckles turned white.
There was no way she would allow Louise’s trust fund to be wasted like that.
At first, Liam tried to pull the wool over Annie’s eyes, explaining that the costs of travel, hotel rooms, food, and what he called attractions were high. But accounting for the missing hundred and fifty thousand pounds—even to a love-struck Annie—was impossible when they had only taken about ten trips, half of them within a hundred miles of home, staying in hostels or renting rooms through an app. It simply didn’t add up.
It had taken him another year to come clean and promise to quit gambling, but one more year later, her entire trust fund was gone—along with her husband. All three hundred thousand pounds. Gone.
Annie clenched her fists, her jaw tightening even more. The story was repeating itself, this time with their parents’ blessing—a man stealing a naive woman’s money.
Even after Liam had left her—a broken divorcee at twenty-seven, drowning in unpaid bills and with debt collectors at her door—Annie had still loved him. Or so she had believed back then. Now, she couldn’t even remember what she had liked about him. If anything at all.
That would not happen to her sister. Not on Annie’s watch.
She took a deep breath. The scent of magnolia, garlic bread, and fried bacon tickled her nose. Her stomach rumbled and her feet followed her nose and stopped at the entrance to the tennis court-sized gazebo with its sides open to the blossoming magnolia trees—white, pink, and cream.
A dozen or more garden tables surrounded a small, raised decking area near the entrance. A group of musicians in white suits with cream bow ties tuned their violins and cellos. Annie rolled her eyes. A quartet—how unimaginative.
Louise, in her paint-stained denims, with brush dripping Persian blue onto a warehouse floor, swaying to an indie rock thudding through the speakers, wouldn’t feel more out of place here even if she tried. What Mother called sophisticated, a majority would call plain boring. Annie shrugged. At least she wasn’t paying for this.
Her gaze followed the clutter of the cutlery and the delicate clinking of china. A long buffet table filled with a variety of platters and bowls ran along the far side and made her lick her lips. Annie navigated between small groups of guests, smiling at her parents’ acquaintances and relatives she had never met without stopping for a chat.
Directed by the increasing smell of bacon wafting from the middle section of the long buffet, Annie squeezed through tiny gaps around tables, avoiding the white, cream, and pale pink balloons bobbing over most of the chairs.
There was one thing her father would never refuse—a bacon roll. And there he was, bacon hanging from one side of his mouth.
Annie marched straight toward him. “You had no right!”
Her father stopped chewing and stared at her.
Maureen’s polka dot dress emerged from behind a pot plant. “It’s not a shouting contest, young lady. Keep your voice down.” Her mother pursed her lips before picking a miniature canape from a porcelain dessert plate she held in her hand.
“You’ve done enough damage.” Annie reduced the volume of her voice, but not the intensity. “Keep your hands off her money.”
“It’s an excellent investment.” Richard took another bite, swallowed, and washed down with a gulp of beer from a double-bottom glass tankard. “You need to try these rolls. I bet Conrad would love to have this catering in his pubs.”
Annie glanced at the table oozing with canapes, organised by their content: vegetarian on the left next to samosas and salad bowls, salmon and tuna in the centre, supported by sushi selection, and meaty ones on the right, next to sausage and bacon rolls.
Her stomach growled. She couldn’t believe she could be hungry, even when she was burning with anger for her sister.
“It’s her marriage fund.”
Richard belched. “Excuse me.” He wiped his mouth with a pink napkin. “And it needs proper investing, something neither your sister nor you are good at. If you’d let us help you invest yours, you might still have your money.”
“Or you’d have it, and I’d be broken.” Annie transferred a mini sponge cake onto a dessert plate and picked on its squishy surface with her fingers.
“Instead, you let that ex-husband of yours invest it in God knows what.”
Y ou have no idea.
Only Grandma Ann knew what had happened to Liam and the money. If her parents even got a sniff of the actual events, she would never hear the end of this.
“Not every investment pays back.” Better they thought she sucked at investing than that she’d been used by a loser. “But don’t change the topic.”
Annie scooped the entire mini cake and shoved it into her mouth, letting the vanilla cream dissolve on her tongue.
“Behave.” Her mother’s voice, as sharp as a whip, made Annie twitch. “Use the dessert fork. It’s not a fast food.”
“Isn’t it?” Annie smirked and licked her fingers, covered with cream. Maureen’s gaze would torch someone else, but for Annie, it was a typical Sunday afternoon type of interaction. They had mended, sort of, their relationship after Annie’s divorce, on Grandma Ann’s plead, but it could never be called a pleasant one.
Her father smacked his lips and loaded his plate with two more rolls. “It doesn’t matter now, though, since you took over Louise’s place. But it’s actually better this way.”
“What is?”
Her father glanced around, took another gulp of his beer, and with a plate in his other hand, he strolled toward the front. He stopped at an empty table covered with white linen, surrounded by four cushioned chairs, two dressed with cream silk satchels, one for the groom and another for her, the bride.
Annie picked two more mini cakes, a couple of clementines, and a bundle of green grapes before gliding after him, with her mother’s Patchouli scent close behind.
“So, why would you even consider giving so much money to a stranger? Why all of it?”
Annie ripped the satchel before sitting on the bride’s chair. It made no sense. Her father was too greedy to risk the money unless he had a reason.
Richard poured himself a glass of burgundy red wine from a carafe on the table and gestured toward Annie. She covered her glass with the palm of her hand.
“It was the only way we could get the cottage.”
“Do you mean The Lilac Croft? Grandma Ann’s childhood home?” Annie swallowed hard. Even after nearly six months, mentioning Grandma’s name was still difficult. “Conrad said the cottage was part of the deal.”
Annie peeled a clementine with her fingernails, separating each section before putting it in her mouth.
“So, you know.” He gulped half the glass in one go and bit into a bacon roll.
“I don’t know anything. I don’t understand why marriage was necessary and frankly, I don’t want to know.” Annie rose from her seat, but her mother’s steel grip on her shoulder pushed her down.
“Wait.” Maureen lowered herself onto a free chair. “Even though you had not attended my mother’s funeral, God bless her soul, you must have heard about her will.”
Annie nodded while her stomach twisted with sorrow. If only she had stayed in touch. If only she had not been so busy playing house and planning their future. Hers, Darren’s, and their unborn ...
Annie exhaled slowly, fighting to keep the tears at bay while staring at the stoned paved floor under her feet. This wasn’t the place and time. And certainly not in front of her parents.
“Your grandma became the only beneficiary after my father and her husband Edward died a few years ago, but despite my pleading, she had not shared that wealth with those most in need.”
Annie forced a chuckle. “By those most in need, you mean you? Please, Mother, a bit of dignity.”
“After my mother’s demise, God rest her soul—” Maureen continued without a single glance at Annie, who managed to put her grief aside, and shifted her focus to squashing juicy grapes with her teeth, one after another. “—an estate executor informed us there is a requirement in her will that needs to be fulfilled within six months in order for us to inherit any of her wealth.”
“She screwed us all, so to speak. That old hag,” Richard piped in, unfazed by his wife’s stern look. “The requirement was for that cottage to be returned to the family.”
Annie sniggered, imagining that moment when the estate executor had told her parents about this condition. But this still hadn’t explained the wedding.
“So, why didn’t you simply buy it from Conrad?” Annie licked her dry lips and reached for a jug with sparkling water resting at the centre of the table.
Her father’s grim laugh made Annie raise her eyebrows. “Your grandma wasn’t the only weirdo. Conrad inherited the cottage from his grandfather George who died several years ago. And in his will, he made a condition that Conrad could never sell the cottage but only gift it to his wife.”
Richard clicked his tongue. “Hence the marriage.” He shrugged and shoved half of the eclair into his mouth.
An eclair? How did I miss them?
“And to reciprocate with similar value, we had signed away Louise’s trust fund, which Conrad will invest in Whispering Pines Country Club. A money machine if you ask me.” He mumbled, licking the cream. “Win, win.”
Annie grinned. Nothing was more perfect than messing with her parents’ plans.
“But there is no fund, is there? And I’ll break the news to Conrad about it all being fake in about—” She glanced at her white smartwatch. Five unread messages. Her heart skipped a bit.“—well, very soon.”
“What’s the rush, darling? Why not enjoy this evening?”
Annie narrowed her eyebrows. “Cause it’s wrong.”
“Don’t you care about your sister at all? Her future is in your hands.” Her mother pulled out a cream embroidered handkerchief and brought it to her eye while blinking rapidly. “Poor girl counts on you.”
Annie smirked. “Mother, we both know you wouldn’t shed a tear in full make-up. Plus, Lou sent me here to pretend, remember?”
“Exactly.” Her father clapped his hands. “Smart girl. She wanted you to play her part. At least for a few days. A week tops. Then you can tell him whatever you want.”
“I’m not staying in this marriage for a week!” Annie shook her head. “What’s the difference, anyway?”
Oh, shut up, woman.
Why did she ask that question? Now he would use it as an opportunity to make his sell.
“Oh, it’s huge, my dear.” Her father leaned closer, pushing his glasses up. “Once Conrad passes his cottage over to you and the will is executed, we won’t need his help anymore. You can tell him that you’re not a good fit or something, and nobody needs to know what actually happened.”
“And you believe he would simply roll over and forget about the marriage fund you promised him? Doesn’t he have a contract or something gifting him that money?”
“Of course he does. He wasn’t willing to take my word for it.”
Annie giggled. “What a shocker.”
“But—” Richard raised a finger. “—You know the marriage fund clause. It can only be accessed after the marriage lasted for a month or there was a baby on the way. No marriage, no money.”
“Are you nuts?”
A few guests sitting nearby turned their heads toward them, but Richard waved them away, beaming, and patted Annie on the shoulder. “Just a joke. We’re joking.”
“So, you’re joking?” Annie scratched her head.
“No, of course, I’m not. It was for them.” He gestured toward the other table.
“So, you really expect me to con a man out of his grandfather’s cottage and leave him high and dry?”
That was rich, even for her father. Unless he was desperate. Was their business as good as they claimed? Or maybe the COVID had taken a toll, and they were broke? Annie’s smartwatch vibrated with a call, so she hid her hand under the table.
“Well, it’s not as bad as it sounds. This cottage is actually a burden to him, you know, as he can’t sell it.”
“Are you trying to convince me I would be doing him a favour?” Annie burst into laughter. “You really lost your mind.”
“Don’t speak like that to your father, young lady.” The handkerchief was long gone.
“Not that young, Mother. Don’t let that fake face fool you. I’ll be thirty-five next year. Thirty. Five. Mother.”
Annie’s smartwatch buzzed again. She shot up from her chair. “Well, I’ll leave you to your delusions. I need to use a bathroom, and then I have a reveal to make.”
Before she could leave, her father caught her hand. “Annie, think about it. Not only would you have a cottage to live in, but a hefty sum from your grandma’s inheritance. Without the cottage though you’ll get absolutely nothing. Opportunities like this don’t come often. ”
His words stirred up unwanted memories. Liam had always talked about once-in-a-lifetime opportunities while taking her money to invest , as he’d called it—yeah, in those horses on the racetrack. She’d trusted him against her better judgment. Love made people stupid and blind.
Annie yanked her hand. “I’d rather be poor and honest than turn into you.” She grabbed her skirts and leapt toward the back of the gazebo, where she hoped to find a quiet spot, as her phone would not stop ringing.
***
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C onrad’s fingers tapped rapidly on the side of his wineglass while he scanned the bustling wedding reception, his eyes darting from one guest to the next, searching for his bride. He caught sight of her chatting with her parents at one of the tables, her body tense and her arms crossed defensively over her chest. His heart sank.
The scent of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and sweet pastries filled the air, creating a sensory experience that only heightened Conrad’s anxiety.
How the hell was he going to convince her to play along?
From the way Louise had reacted and her current posture, the marriage fund forming part of the financial deal was like the final nudge to a boulder teetering on the edge of a steep hill. And now he had to push that boulder back up, far from the cliff’s edge. He couldn’t afford to let it crash down that hill, taking his livelihood with it.
Conrad sauntered over to the buffet, picking at the various dishes laid out along the long table, sampling each one from a business perspective. The delicate scent of magnolia blooms drifted through the open sides of the gazebo, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of the food.
The warm sun shone through the trees, casting dappled light on the guests as they chatted and laughed, enjoying the food and drink, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing within Conrad’s mind.
And what if he failed?
A sudden rush of adrenaline washed over him, making him gasp for breath. He couldn’t even bear to think about it. No. Simply, no. He still had a chance. Didn’t he?
“Conrad, my boy!” Richard clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking off his plate. “You simply must try these bacon butties! What do you think about adding them to the menu at your pubs?”
Conrad took a hearty bite, crunching on crispy bacon with no fat. The roll reminded him of sourdough bread from his grandpa’s favourite bakery. Conrad licked the butter from his upper lip.
“Yeah, the butties and the pies would certainly be a great addition. Although not so sure about those tiny canapes, maybe for a special event, but not my usual type of guests.”
A broad smile made Richard’s face even rounder. “I knew you’d like that caterer. We can certainly send them your way and many more. The sooner you sort out the paperwork for the cottage, the sooner we can invest in that country club together, Conrad.”
“Well, not that soon. Haven’t you said it was a month before we could access the money from the fund? Could we speed it up somehow?”
Stuffing a mini quiche into his mouth, Richard shook his head. “Rules are rules, my boy. These steak and mushroom pies are incredible! One bite of honest working man’s food.”
“Without money from the fund, I can’t really buy that place, can I?” Conrad tried a quiche—too dry for his taste, so he washed it down with wine.
“No, but the moment we have the inheritance, we can put the offer in for it and then finalise once the fund matures. By then, we would be ready to roll.” The excitement and jolly in Richard’s voice would melt the ice cap.
Conrad nodded, trying to force a smile. “About that. It seems my wife had no idea her marriage fund was part of the deal.” He sipped from his half-empty glass.
Richard waved a dismissive hand as if it was of no importance. “Ah, well, you know how women are. They don’t always need to know all the details.”
“She seemed pretty upset, so now I’m not sure if I still have a wife.”
His father-in-law chuckled. “Nonsense. She’s just being dramatic. She’ll come around. I’m sure.” He scratched his double chin before crossing his hands on his belly. “What matters is that you keep your end of the bargain.”
A gust of wind swept through the gazebo, sending a few napkins fluttering like birds. Conrad’s brows furrowed, as he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that something was off. More off than usual, as Conrad was already accustomed to Richard’s door-to-door salesman style, a type who would try to sell you a snowboard in the desert.
Music, one of Vanessa Mae’s creations, filled the air. A sudden false violin note reverberated in Conrad’s ears, and he glanced at the musicians who continued to play, unfazed.
“I think it’s my cue to find my wife so we can have our first dance.” Conrad put the glass down and scanned the room, but he couldn’t spot the white dress anywhere. It would be ironic if she had legged it before the first dance.
“Maureen!” Richard waved at his wife, still sitting at the table nearby. “Would you be so kind as to go and get our daughter? Conrad is getting worried.”
Maureen got up from her seat with her lips pursed. “That girl, honestly. Disappearing for so long at her own wedding.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourself. I can go and get her.” Conrad didn’t need a chaperone while talking to his wife.
Richard cackled. “If you want to get on her good side, you’d rather not chase after her into the ladies.”
Conrad blinked. “Oh.”
What else could he say? Twiddling his thumbs, he watched Maureen disappear into the adjacent building.
Richard leaned over. “So, about the cottage ... ”
Conrad’s stomach twisted, and he licked his dry lips. That man was relentless, and he had no way to hide.
“How about I join you at that meeting with your solicitor, Conrad? Just in case there are any questions that need resolving.”
After filling a glass with water from a crystal carafe on the buffet table, Conrad looked straight into Richard’s eyes.
“Thank you for your offer, but no need. My solicitors are professionals, and if there are questions, I’m sure my wife could answer them.” He took a sip. “After I convince her that her money is safe with me.”
Richard didn’t even blink. Instead, his eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and greed.
“I’ve got an idea. How about you take my daughter to that country club for lunch to reassure her it will be a good use of her money? Maybe even ask her if she wants to decorate it or something so she would feel more like an owner?”
It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Conrad scratched his chin. Not that he planned to use the money to buy that country club. Not only was it not for sale, but his inns desperately needed cash injection, and it was either Louise’s fund or a loan from vulture capitals wanting 60% of his business in return. And that would be the end of him.
“Maybe we could hang her paintings or photographs in the main room, turning it into an art gallery.”
Richard patted him on the shoulder, laughing. “I knew you’d find a way.”
He forced a half smile back at his father-in-law. It still didn’t answer the question of what was really going on here. Something was fishy, and his cottage was at stake.
So was his business if he pulled out now, and to save it, he would do a lot more than get married and give the cottage away. A lot more.?