answered if you just let Mr. Quinby finish.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” The senior lawyer cleared his throat, sounding like an old car reluctant to start on a chilly morning. He acknowledged Shane with a wave of his hand. “Technically, your father has to fire you—” his hand swung toward Bentley “—and your father has to evict you. That is, if he wants to inherit twenty-five percent of your grandfather’s assets.” He turned to Holden. “Harlan did, in fact, leave his grandchildren something.” Mr. Quinby ran his finger down the page slowly. “Ah! Here it is. ‘By each of them standing on their own two feet, my grandchildren, I hope, will discover their moral compass, which will guide them to the lives they should choose to lead. Not the ones that would most benefit the Monroe Holding Corporation. To that end, I leave the town of Second Chance, Idaho, to my grandchildren and great grandchildren.’”
“You’re not really going to go along with this—this...farce?” Holden leaned forward, black eyebrows drawn low in disbelief. “Grandpa Harlan clearly wasn’t in his right mind when he wrote this.”
Several pairs of eyes swung toward Ian and his three brothers. Chairs creaked. Ella held her breath, worried for her husband’s siblings and cousins. Not because of the fortune they weren’t getting, but because their fathers might choose money over family.
Ella didn’t blame Bryce’s cousins and siblings for being upset. They’d been groomed since birth to work in one of the family businesses—oil, finance, luxury-yacht building, hotels or filmmaking. They didn’t have trust funds, but they’d been given everything they’d ever needed—the finest educations, mortgage-free homes and generous salaries. All with the expectation that they’d benefit from their commitment to the family someday. They just hadn’t expected that benefit to be a town.
Ella’s glance swung to Penny and then back to the others in the dining room. All the while, she was wondering: Who inherits a town? For that matter, who owned a town to begin with?
Harlan’s lawyer wasn’t finished yet. Quinby cleared his gravelly throat. “Again, I’d like to repeat to Harlan’s four sons that their inheritance is contingent upon the condition being met.” Meaning mass layoffs and evictions for their children.
No one in the dining room moved. No one seemed to breathe. Ella had been shuttled from foster home to foster home for many reasons. She’d never been moved along so someone could fatten their bank account. The thought was crushing.
“Dad?” Shane asked in a low voice. “Don’t say you’re considering this. That letter won’t hold up in a court of law.”
Daniel, the younger lawyer, jumped up. “I’ll remind everyone of the clause we read before the break regarding challenges to the will. If you challenge and lose—” he stared at Shane “—your share goes to charity. If you refuse to abide by the terms of the will—” his gaze swept Harlan’s four sons “—your share goes to charity.”
Daniel’s expression was no longer kind. It was firm and lawyerly. He was suddenly the most hated person in the room.
As one, Harlan’s sons, ranging in age from fifty to seventy, stood. They were men who loved their children. They wouldn’t cut them loose. And yet, they surveyed their progeny with odd looks—shocked, saddened, resolute—similar to how Ella imagined she’d stared at Bryce’s face before they’d closed the coffin one last time.
Ella began to doubt.
The four brothers exchanged glances. Nodded. Stepped clear of their chairs.
Ian raised his chin. “You’re all fired, evicted and all contracts with the Monroe Holding Corporation and its entities are revoked.”
The chaos that erupted had the old lawyer cringing and everyone talking at once.
This wasn’t her fight. Ella scooped up her daughter and then immediately retreated to their small house at the rear of the family compound, where she put Penny down for a nap, checked the weather report to see how much snow was expected and did a quick inventory of her refrigerator and pantry to make sure she had enough food to last the storm.
The younger lawyer and her father-in-law found her an hour later.
She made Ian a Scotch on the rocks and asked Daniel repeatedly if she could get him something to drink. He refused every time.
Daniel was probably a good lawyer. He had a calm voice and a placating manner that softened the blow of his words. “Mrs. Monroe, the stipulations of the will apply to you, as well.”
Ella sat down on the arm of her sofa. Hard.
She’d planned to return to the main house and check on the cousins once Penny woke from her nap. The terms of the will were shocking to say the least, and she wanted to be a shoulder to lean on. But apparently, she had a shock of her own to deal with.
Her gaze drifted to a high table by the door and a glass bowl that contained a scuffed baseball, a silver dollar, a turquoise tie tack and a smooth, flat rock. Every time she was cast aside, she took something to remember the place, the home, the people she’d loved. Familiar questions bombarded her: Why can’t I stay? What can I do to change your mind? What will I take to remember you by?
Surely, it hasn’t come to that. I’m a Monroe.
The fact that they were here talking about Harlan’s will stipulations proved it.
Small consolation.
“I don’t understand.” Ella forced her gaze back to the lawyer. “I don’t work for the Monroes and I’m only Harlan’s grandchild by marriage.”
“The clause that applies to you is about your daughter living in a Monroe Holding Corporation property.” How could Daniel look so kind and deliver such devastating news?
“This cabin is owned by the family’s holding company?” Ella glanced around the log-cabin home Grandpa Harlan had built with modern amenities after a trip to the mountains over a decade before. Her gaze landed on the smiling photo of Bryce on the mantel.
Ella’s cabin was a simple rectangle with two bedrooms and one bath, one of four homes in the Monroe compound. She’d been living here rent- and utility-free since Bryce had died. Staying in the house had made her feel like one of the family. She’d been surviving on Bryce’s life insurance, which she was trying to make last until Penny started school in three years, at which point she’d return to work as a real-estate agent. She could afford to live elsewhere. It was just...
Her gaze connected with Ian’s. “You knew about this beforehand.” Not a question. He’d had that look.
Ian set down his drink and stood, drawing Ella to her feet. “Eleanor, I’m sorry, but you have thirty days to figure out what to do.” His bright green gaze was reassuring and reminiscent of Bryce’s, even if his smile wasn’t.
He’d said nothing about her remaining a part of the family, now and forever.
She felt a sense of panic rising in her chest and wished she had the courage to run. But he was family. Her family. Bryce had promised her she’d always be a Monroe. She had to ask the question. “Am I still a part of this family? I...”
Ian’s smile hardened. “You’re the mother of my grandchild.”
So
