Chapter 11
ELEVEN
I get a chance to call the lawyer after the couple leave, and it turns out the only appointment they have available is at lunchtime. I normally eat my lunch out the back and stay in the gallery, but today, I tell Kiva I need to attend an appointment.
She’s quite reasonable, probably because she knows I don’t ask for favours like this very often. However, she’s not a particularly touchy-feely boss, and when she enters the gallery, she nods curtly. “I have to get to a client appointment at one-thirty, so please be back by then.”
“Sure. I’ll return as quickly as possible.”
I drive over to the other side of town, which only takes fifteen minutes. That’s one thing I’ve always liked about living here—you never have to travel far to get anywhere in Shell Beach.
On entering the lawyer’s building, I’m directed straight through to an office at the end of the hall.
Only to see Jarvis already there.
I should have known.
He looks at me with an unreadable expression, which I find slightly off-putting considering how nice his younger self was yesterday.
And then I remember how he hugged me, and I blush.
Oh God. I hope he doesn’t notice.
But apparently he does, and he smirks.
Damn it.
I turn my attention to the lawyer sitting at the desk in front of me. He has a nameplate that says John Lang.
“Hi, Rachel? Please take a seat.” He motions to the chair next to Jarvis. It’s not a very big office, so our shoulders almost touch when I sit down.
“I appreciate you both coming. I can imagine you might be a little surprised by the letter you received, but it was the client’s wish to inform you of everything in person. I’m acting on behalf of their law firm in Scotland, so bear with me while I get my notes ready.”
I wrinkle my nose. Scotland?
I glance at Jarvis, but his face remains impassive. I don’t know anyone in Scotland. My parents were born in Australia, and one set of grandparents was from England. I’m not very familiar with my extended family tree, but I’m pretty sure any relatives not from England were from Ireland.
Although Jarvis…
“Okay. So, the will belongs to Florence Hill.” John looks at Jarvis. “She was your great aunt?”
He nods. “That’s right. But I didn’t hear she’d passed away. That’s really sad.”
“Yes, well, it seems the reason you might not have heard is because she was estranged from most of the family. As you may have known, she was quite wealthy, and in recent years, she found that her relatives were constantly hounding her for money. Yet, when she reached out for company, they were too busy. And when she thought about the people who had brightened her life, she landed on you two.”
My eyes widen. What? I literally only spent two days with the woman when Jarvis and I visited her at the end of our honeymoon.
Jarvis had never met her before then either, but he’d discovered she lived in a small castle not far from where we were staying, and he thought it would be cool to visit.
I had found her to be a wonderful, kind woman, but I didn’t stay in touch with her afterwards.
Since she was Jarvis’s relative, I thought it might have been awkward.
And especially once our marriage started going bad.
I remember being relatively happy for six months after the wedding, but then I started to realise there were fundamental problems we couldn’t fix.
We lasted another year and a half before I called it quits.
Jarvis doesn’t seem as surprised about the inheritance as I would have expected. But then, he is the king of the poker face.
“I’m pleased she enjoyed our company during the brief time we visited, but I don’t feel worthy of any inheritance,” I say.
“Either way, you can decide what to do once I read the details of the will,” John says.
He flicks to a piece of paper on his desk.
“You are now equal owners of Castle Murray. Florence has requested you visit the castle and clear out her personal belongings, and then you’ll be free to do whatever you like with the place.
The furniture can be kept or sold off as you see fit, and there’s an allowance set aside for airfares and any expenses you may incur in the meantime. ”
I can’t seem to process what he’s saying.
I own half a Scottish castle? How does that kind of thing even happen?
It feels like I’ve somehow slipped into a different timeline.
I wonder if Anna ever considered that when she woke up from the nineties, she might not actually be going into the same present?
Jarvis doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me, which makes me wonder if something is going on I don’t know about.
“Are you sure there isn’t a mistake?” I ask. “She didn’t intend for me to just go and help Jarvis clear out the place, and then he could have it?”
“No. You are definitely an equal owner.”
I wonder how I’d feel if it turned out one of my distant relatives passed away and left me and Jarvis half a castle. I think I’d be quite angry. I wouldn’t want him getting all that potential money with only two days’ worth of effort—and especially after how he’d treated me.
“Can I refuse my share?” I ask.
John raises an eyebrow. “You can, but I’ve never had anyone turn down something like this before.”
“What do I have to do?”
“I’d advise you to contact your own lawyer and obtain legal advice. You’ll need to put together a formal disclaimer refusing the gift.”
“So I can’t just say no, thank you here and now?”
“I’m afraid not. We need it in writing, and we need it communicated properly to avoid any ambiguity at a later date.”
I can’t imagine a lawyer would agree to do a disclaimer for free.
“How much do lawyers normally charge to help with that kind of thing?” I ask.
“I can’t speak for other firms, but we charge approximately six hundred dollars.”
My heart sinks. Six hundred just to refuse something?
Jarvis clears his throat. “I’ll discuss this with Rachel, and we’ll get back to you.”
“No problem.”
Jarvis nods his head toward the door, indicating I should follow him. I reluctantly stand and exit the office, thanking John before I leave.
Out in the reception area, Jarvis faces me. “Are you hungry? You want to get something to eat?”
“I have to get back to the gallery.”
“Do you have a few more minutes at least? We can grab a coffee near your work.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“Are you still over at Main Street? Can I get a lift with you? I don’t want to waste time finding somewhere to park.”
Ugh. This is getting more and more annoying.
“How will you get back after?”
“I’ll catch an Uber.”
“Fine.”
We go to my car, and Jarvis climbs in the driver’s side. In the enclosed space, his scent is obvious, and I again experience a flashback of yesterday. I don’t like how confusing everything is right now.
I can’t talk to him when he’s so close, so I turn up the music, which is Taylor Swift’s Blank Space.
Jarvis gets the hint and doesn’t try to speak over the top of the song.
We drive down to Main Street, and I park in the gallery parking. Normally I go to a café called Beans for my coffee, but I don’t want to think of Jarvis next time I’m there, so I choose a new coffee shop a few doors down that I haven’t tried yet.
“Do you still drink chai lattes?” Jarvis asks.
I nod.
“I’ll be right back.”
While he’s ordering, I look out the window.
The usual stream of tourists is wandering around, enjoying the lovely weather.
I read recently that Shell Beach experiences three hundred days of sunshine each year.
The temperature is often pleasant, with just a few months of hot weather in summer, so it’s an ideal holiday destination for visitors from all over.
I wonder what Jarvis wants to talk about.
Could he be excited about the prospect of owning an entire castle?
Maybe he’ll offer to pay for my legal fees to get the disclaimer.
I’d say six hundred dollars in exchange for something that probably costs hundreds of thousands of pounds is a pretty good deal.
But when he brings the drinks over and sits beside me, he says something unexpected.
“I think you should accept your half of the inheritance.”
I stare at him. “Why? If you want to be fair, you can pay the six hundred to cover my legal costs, and then you can have the whole thing yourself.”
“Florence wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“How do you know? And does it really matter? She’s dead.”
“I… I just know she’d prefer you have your share.”
“But if the situation was reversed, I wouldn’t want you having half the castle.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a nice person,” he says wryly.
“Nice people don’t point out that they’re nice.”
“You seem to think I’m some evil demon. I’m just trying to correct that.”
“You kind of are an evil demon,” I say.
He shakes his head but looks like he’s trying not to smile. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”
“Well, it was no different from when we were married.”
“Did you really believe I played mind games?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He looks weirdly devastated and doesn’t say anything for a moment
Something occurs to me. “Had you stayed in touch with Florence?”
He nods so minutely, I almost don’t see.
“But you didn’t know she’d died?”
“No. We emailed once a month, but the last message gave no indication she was unwell or any different to how she’d always been.”
“Did she mention me in any of these messages?”
“She did,” he confirms.
“In what way? I mean, I spent two days in her presence several years ago. There’d only be a limited number of stories she could relay from that.”
“She enquired after your wellbeing.”
“But you wouldn’t have known. Unless you lied to her.”
“I didn’t lie to her.” He meets my gaze.
“Florence was more important to me in these last few years than you realise. So it would mean a lot if you at least came to Scotland to help clear out her belongings. If you decide at the end that you really don’t want the inheritance, I’ll pay whatever fees are necessary to have a disclaimer written up. ”
I frown. “It’s all just so weird, though. And I can’t imagine you’d appreciate having me there. We can’t go five minutes without biting each other’s head off.”
“Maybe we should try getting along just for this short amount of time while honouring Florence’s memory.”
I exhale heavily. “Fine. When do you want to go? Do you have to consider your filming schedule?”
He shakes his head. “We just finished the season. There’s at least a month before I need to be anywhere.”
“Ah.” I consider my own schedule. I haven’t taken any holidays this year, and my last real trip was over a year ago, so I probably have at least a few weeks available.
But do I want to give up my hard-earned break to be with Jarvis?
“Can I think about it? If you have a month, we don’t have to go tomorrow.
I need to sort through a few things first.”
“Sure. But ideally, I’d like to go in a week or two.”
“Okay.”
I finish drinking my chai and stand. “I have to get back to the gallery.”
“Call or text when you figure stuff out.”
“I will.”
I leave, feeling even weirder than when I saw Jarvis in the nineties.
What is going on right now?