Chapter 21
The pocket notebook proved too small halfway through the flight home, so Sylvie upgraded to a full-sized legal pad during her layover—and she was full of plans.
She knew she wanted to start on them right away, but first, they had to go through the process the lawyers described, making sure nothing on the list was impossible or illegal.
Most importantly, she needed to talk to Lilly.
Sylvie, motivated by the energy she gained at Carnival, was determined to finish the list and keep the Sweet Stays Inn, but she had to ensure Lilly remained an important part of the upcoming year.
The teenager had told her she was most excited about being where her dad grew up and spending time with her aunt, but Sylvie didn’t want that to cloud her judgment.
Lilly deserved the mentorship she was promised, and making sure she received it was the right choice.
Nothing was ever simple, though, and for some reason, her cell phone had refused to come back online after she turned it on post-landing in Charleston. Luckily for her, Gina was an excellent travel agent and had booked an airport transfer in advance, so she didn’t have to worry about hailing a cab.
The entire ride back from the airport was filled with a mix of emotions—excitement for the upcoming adventure, immediately followed by dread about the conversation she was probably about to have with Fiona.
Pulling up to the inn, her heart swelled with pride.
She knew she had made the right decision in fighting for her inheritance.
The driver opened her door, handed her the small suitcase she had brought with her—heavier now than when she left—and bid her farewell.
She paused to watch the silver sedan drive away.
Why don’t I want to go in? Sylvie thought, discomfort pooling in her stomach.
She didn’t usually buy into that “gut feeling” thing, but there was something off. It was similar to the unease she’d felt the morning her mom had told her everything.
Her attention snapped to the three sleek, unfamiliar cars parked along the fence. They weren’t supposed to have any guests for another week—who was visiting while she was away?
The front door was unlocked—a good thing, since her keys were buried deep in her purse—but as it swung open, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Male voices.
There was no reason Fiona couldn’t have guests over, though it irked her that her sister-in-law invited strangers to the house while she was away. Still, Sylvie felt a deep unease as she crossed the lobby and opened the kitchen door.
Fiona startled, and Sylvie’s suspicions were instantly confirmed. Her sister-in-law looked guilty as sin.
“Hello,” Sylvie said. “What’s all this?”
A man in a suit—one he’d probably paid more for than Sylvie had spent on her entire trip—stood and smiled at her charmingly. “Hello, you must be Mrs. Sweet—”
“Ms. Sweet,” she corrected. “Who are you?”
“I’m John Stone, head of Stone, Mann, and Poole Development,” he said, the smarmy smirk never leaving his face.
“Development?” Sylvie repeated. “Development of what, exactly?”
There was a flicker of surprise in the man’s otherwise frozen expression.
“Sylvie—” Fiona started, but Lilly cut her off.
“Mom, don’t!”
One of the other men stood and extended a hand she had no intention of shaking. “We’re just here to make sure you’re aware of the options you have.”
“Options? To develop my family’s inn?” she shot back.
He retracted his hand. “We are prepared to make a very generous offer.”
Bile rose in her throat, and she briefly wondered if being sick on his shoes would send a firm enough message to outweigh the embarrassment.
She turned on her heel and stormed out the way she came. She needed air. She thought she heard her name called behind her, but she had no desire to stop. Before she knew it, she was at the end of the driveway, breathing heavily.
“How dare she?” she muttered under her breath. “How dare that clawing, poisonous woman think she has the right—” Anger bubbled inside her, and she was worried she might be sick. Pressing her hands to her face, Sylvie took a deep breath and held it.
“Uh, hey?” a male voice said, alarmingly close—and instantly familiar.
“Damian!” she exclaimed, startled to see him.
“You seem like you’re about to set fire to something,” he said. “Can I help?”
Sylvie looked him up and down, taking in the faded jeans and boots he was wearing. What was he even doing here? “With arson?” she asked.
To her surprise, he shrugged. “I mean…if that’s what you want help with. I was going to go on a long walk, but I don’t have anything formal planned for today—or the next seven to twenty years, I guess.”
A laugh escaped her, and despite clamping her hand over her mouth, she couldn’t stop laughing.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m not that funny,” he said. “What’s going on?”
Sylvie relayed what had happened inside, watching his expression shift from confused to incredulous to furious.
“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not.”
Sylvie snorted and went to reply, but he cut her off.
“Sorry, I’m being rude now, but did you just leave your own kitchen—your own house—because your guest invited a bunch of jackals over for tea and crumpets?”
Blinking hard, she realized he was right. “Yeah, I guess I did,” she muttered, looking over her shoulder at the inn.
“Do you want to sell?” he asked. “Because, no judgment either way, but do you want that at all?”
“No!” she replied instantly.
“Then turn around, put your mean face on, and tell them that.” He pointed toward the house. “You have—what did you say? A year? A year is an eternity. You can do anything in a year.”
Sylvie nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I can.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.
She did, but she knew it would be better to go on her own. “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
Without saying goodbye, she turned and stormed back toward the inn.