My father grunts and shifts in his seat, but I don’t move an inch.
I’m still trying to register what Mr. Hall just said and I’d like him to repeat himself, but before I can say a word, he holds a finger up in the air to stop me. “There is one stipulation,” he says, making brief eye contact with me before turning his gaze back to the document. “Monies will be paid upon the one-year anniversary of his…marriage.”
What?
“Marriage,” Mr. Hall repeats.
I must have said that out loud, but seriously, what the fuck? “Marriage?” I ask again. The starched white shirt and navy-blue tie around my neck suddenly feel too tight. Running a finger between the material and the skin on my neck, I’m now the one clearing my throat.
“That’s correct,” Mr. Hall confirms.
Before I can ask any other questions, my father interrupts. “What about the rest?”
“The rest,” Mr. Hall says, turning back to the will. “After payment of my just debts, testamentary, funeral expenses and taxes or duties payable as a result of my death, I give my entire remaining estate not previously disposed of under any prior clause to my Trustee on behalf of Mercy House.”
“That can’t be right,” my father insists, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as he quickly stands, towering over Mr. Hall. “There’s no way in hell that senile old man left hundreds of millions of dollars to a fucking charity!”
Clearing his throat again, the older man squares his shoulders and faces my father. I have to give him props, most men would cower, but he stands his ground, backed by an official document. “That’s exactly what he did,” Mr. Hall says, flipping my father’s copy of the will to the page where the declarations are made. “You can read it here for yourself.”
My father continues to rant but I tune him out because all I can hear in my head is one word, playing over and over on repeat.
Marriage.
Chapter 4
CeCe
“Welcome to Neutral Grounds,” I call out over my shoulder, preoccupied with making a fresh pot of cold brew, trying to keep my mind off of the letter that’s been giving me nightmares for the past few days.
“Yes, I’d like a soy, non-fat, two-pump, sugar-free latte with half French vanilla and half cinnamon—”
I roll my eyes and hear Carys laugh behind me. “Would you like an extra shot of bullshit to go with that?” I know my customers, and customers who are also one of my best friends, I know them even better. Coffee says a lot about a person and Carys is definitely not high-maintenance. A hot mess? Yes. But not high-maintenance.
“Well, maybe just an iced coffee with cream for now…I’ll come back for the other later.”
Giving her a side-eye, I walk over and fill up a cup with ice and then coffee, before topping it off with half-and-half. The good stuff. Just like Carys. When I hand it to her, I can’t hold back the sigh as I lean against the counter. Her familiar face and warm smile are just what I needed.
“That’s a heavy sigh…what’s up?” she asks, matching my pose.
Carys is the one person I know I can talk to about this and she’ll totally get it. Our businesses are a huge part of us. They support our families and run thick in our veins. It’s all we know. She’ll get it, and yet, I hesitate to confide in her because I don’t want to even speak it out loud. It was bad enough telling Jules about it, but I had to. I needed legal counsel and he’s the only almost-lawyer I know. The best part is he’s free.
“Have you talked to Jules?” I ask, feeling her out to see if my current dilemma is the purpose of her visit. Maybe Jules has already spilled the tea.
She shrugs. “Yeah, he worked the overnight shift last night. I saw him this morning.”
The way she nonchalantly begins to pilfer through the baked goods on the counter lets me know he hasn’t mentioned the letter or Theodore Duval, Jr. If he had, her expression-filled face would be giving her away. When I don’t say anything for a few seconds, she holds me with her blue eyes. “What?”
Instead of saying anything, I reach under the counter and pull out the folded paper, handing it across the counter to her.
“What’s this?”
“Just read it.”
After she unfolds it, she quickly scans the letter. I watch as her brows furrow in confusion and then her eyes go wide in shock.
“What the hell?” she asks, reflecting my initial response. “Is this for real?”
“As a heart attack.”
We both grimace, because that’s how my Uncle Teddy died. Even five years later, it’s still too soon.
“What are you going to do? He can’t do that, right? Take the shop…there’s got to be some sort of clause or stipulation…time constraint?” I can see the wheels in her head turning as she speaks, letting her thoughts tumble out. “What did Jules say? You called him, right?”
“Yes,” I say, groaning and massaging my temples. “I called him. He has a copy of the letter and he’s looking into it. He said we’d have to respond to the letter ASAP and in the meantime, he’s looking into the validity of the will and time limits on contesting it.”
“Validity? What do you mean?”
Biting down on my bottom lip, I cringe a little, hating this part. “Well, the will was handwritten, something Uncle Teddy wrote a few years before he died. It wasn’t notarized or anything, but it had his signature and was dated. Apparently, that’s good enough in the State of Louisiana, but there’s a chance if this guy—Theodore—knows that, he’ll use it against me…or my mother. Since she deeded everything over to me, I don’t even know what they’ll do with that. It feels messy and confusing and completely above my pay grade. I literally feel like crying at the drop of a hat and you know I’m not a crier.”
“What can I do?” she asks, reaching across the counter and gathering my hands in hers.
Bringing my head up, I open my eyes to see the sincerity on her face I knew would be there. Carys has always been such a great friend and I know she’d do anything in her power to help me and I’d do the same for her, but I’m not sure anyone can help me out of this one.
Except Uncle Teddy, but unless the court will accept Miss Betty channeling my dead uncle as a witness, I potentially could be screwed.
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “Jules is going to do what he can, but he’s not an actual lawyer…yet, so he can only get me so far. I don’t have the money to fight something like this.”
“You can’t let this guy win,” she says earnestly, squeezing tighter on my hands, forcing me to look her square in the eyes. “What would you do without this place…what would this place do without you?” Adamantly, she begins shaking her head. “No, I don’t accept this. We’ll figure this out…we have to.”
She’s right. I know she is. I just don’t know where I’m going to get the money to fight it. Between keeping the shop running, sending my mama money, and paying Rory’s tuition, I’m strapped pretty tight. I have a little in savings, but that’s the only safety net I have.
“I know what you need,” Carys says, her tone brightening and her smile coming back. “Shep will be back in town tonight and it’s his thirtieth birthday. Mav and I want to surprise him with a few friends at Come Again.”