‘Instructions?’
‘Alex, the three of you have inherited a significant amount of assets and you’ll need to determine the best type of ownership structure. We can assist you with everything if you wish, or you may prefer to use your own representatives.’
‘Representatives?’
‘Yes—accountants and lawyers. Then again, it might be best if you engage someone who understands both US and California taxes and laws. You may wish to consider using your uncle’s accountant, given his knowledge of your uncle’s assets.’
Alex put her elbows on the table and leant her head down. Lawyers, properties, taxes—this was sounding an awful lot like her divorce. She took a deep breath and looked up at him as she attempted to stifle a yawn.
He chuckled softly. ‘I’m sure it seems complex at the moment, but it will all become clearer as we go through it. For now, how about I just give you an overview, and a summary to take away with you to read at your leisure and discuss with your sisters?’
Alex sat up straight, summoning all her wits. ‘My sisters have given me full authority to do as I think best, so apart from any signatures you might need, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle everything myself.’
As he raised an eyebrow, he began organising the papers in front of them.
Frowning, she willed herself to pay attention as he began to talk her through the numbers, but her mind kept wandering, going round and round as she tried to recall when and how she’d met this uncle. They’d moved to Australia when she was in the first grade, and she was fourteen the next time they visited—when she and the twins came over to see their father. She didn’t think she’d met this uncle on that visit. Of course, her father lived and worked in Sacramento, so it was possible he knew little about Masons Flat. Was it conceivable that he hadn’t been aware of what he might one day inherit? Or was he just not terribly interested because it wasn’t worth much in any case? She frowned, suspecting the latter was more likely. Her heart sank further as it occurred to her that she, Casey and Taylor may have inherited nothing more than tax liabilities. Maybe that was why Mr West said they needed an accountant.
She looked up when Mr West stopped talking, and she wondered just how much she’d missed.
‘Now, as I mentioned in the letter, you and your sisters are the only beneficiaries.’
‘Yeah, about that … do you mean to say he didn’t leave anything to any friends or other family members?’
Mr West nodded. ‘Not one. I questioned them at the time when they changed their wills, but they were determined everything should stay in the Mason Family.’
‘They?’
‘Your grandfather and his brother, your great-uncle. The two of them came to see me, shortly after your father died. They were each other’s beneficiary, with your father next in line. However when your father died ahead of them, they came in together and changed their wills, replacing the reference to your father with you and your sisters as joint beneficiaries.’
It seemed odd that her grandfather hadn’t advised them. Would he have thought them too young to understand? Even so, surely he could have written to their mother after their father died? When they’d confronted their mother with the legal letter she’d claimed complete ignorance about Masons Flat. Then again, their mother had about as much business acumen as a gnat, and her new partner, Frank, the never-wanna-grow-up-surfer-slash-hippie had even less, but still, wouldn’t her mother have at least twigged to the possibility that her daughters might inherit something one day?
Mr West smiled, reminding her of a school teacher. ‘You look like you’re fading. Had enough for today?’
‘Yes, sorry, I am struggling a bit. But just to clarify, are you certain there are no other relatives?’
He cocked his head before answering. ‘You’re the only surviving Masons from the original founder. There may be distant relatives somewhere, but none your grandfather and great-uncle wanted to include.’
Alex took a deep breath, still shaking her head in disbelief. ‘And my uncle never married? Had no children?’
‘No, he never married, and he had no children.’
‘I’m sorry I seem so surprised … more like flabbergasted, actually. It simply wasn’t ever on my radar.’
Mr West frowned slightly. ‘At least it’s a good surprise, yes?’
She grimaced. ‘I don’t know. Is it?’
A proper smile now touched his lips, and his eyes twinkled. ‘Of course it’s a good surprise.’
Twenty minutes later Alex sat at her hotel table, holding a fistful of keys in one hand and some documents in the other. She looked back and forth between the two, overwhelmed by her change in circumstances.
She and her sisters were now the proud owners of seven buildings in the main street of Masons Flat, which included a saloon, a boutique hotel and five other shops. There was also the home her uncle had been living in right up until his death, and some other assets that she would no doubt get her head around at some stage.
~~*~~
Alex pulled out of the rental car agency in a bright red convertible Mustang at eight-thirty the following morning, over the moon that they’d had the car she’d requested, and excited that she’d be in Masons Flat well before noon and could have lunch at the hotel.
She looked over her left shoulder, then her right, then her left again before pulling out onto the road and settling in behind a small sedan. Driving on the right side of the road was a little tricky at first, but the mantra a friend had given her seemed to help. Every time she made a turn onto a new street she repeated the phrase—body in the middle … body in the middle—and it wasn’t long before it started to feel less foreign.
She’d studied Google Maps the night before, and even though it was a slightly longer drive via Placerville, she’d decided to take that route. She had fond memories of stopping in Placerville for a hot chocolate when her father had taken her and the twins skiing to Lake Tahoe. She’d been nearly fourteen and her sisters eleven when they’d come to stay with him that Christmas. It was the last time any of them had seen him.
As she pulled into the small town, she breathed in the familiar scent of clean mountain air. She parked, got out and walked along the main street, poking her head into cafés, some gift shops, and a marvellous old hardware store. She liked to think she remembered some of the shops, but in truth she wasn’t certain. In seventeen years things had no doubt changed.
After stopping for a cup of coffee, she did a quick walk along both sides of the street then returned to her car, dropped the roof down, and followed the signs to Highway Forty-Nine.
The two-lane road wound its way past farms and paddocks dotted with cattle, reminding her of the country roads at home. She slowed as she made her way through small towns that had an air of familiarity, surprised to see the odd stand of gum trees here and there. Had she been along this road when she was young? Or were California and Victoria just not all that different from each other?
A few minutes after eleven Alex spotted the sign for Masons Flat. The tree-lined road made its way past a few homes before arriving at a narrow bridge where a sign read Welcome to Masons Flat. She crossed the bridge, drove up a bit further, and found Main Street.
She’d arrived. She was in her town—the town that carried her family’s name.
After parking in the front of the Masons Hotel, she got out of the car, and stood looking at the lovely old building. The two-story wooden structure, painted cream and dark green, had a verandah that ran all across the front of the upstairs. There appeared to be four sets of double-doors opening onto the verandah, where she imagined hotel guests could enjoy breakfast at small tables. The downstairs appeared to be the restaurant and bar. A row of flower boxes at the front, full of mixed blossoms, suggested the people who ran the business cared about it. The only thing it might need was a coat of paint, and she suspected that as the buil
ding owner it might be her responsibility.
She smiled as she read the sign saying food, lodging and spirits. She’d go for a wander and come back a bit later to have lunch and introduce herself to the manager. She snapped a few photos with her phone, and then made her way slowly along the wooden sidewalk which looked as though it had been there a hundred years. She and her sisters owned the hotel, and the five buildings alongside it. Did the shop owners have to maintain this sidewalk? There was so much she would need to understand.
Next door to the hotel was a small candy and ice-cream shop. When she opened the door to have a quick peek inside she was met with the mouth-watering scent of chocolate and roasted nuts. A young girl at the counter caught her eye, so she smiled, said hello and then stepped back outside. The next shop sold antiques and collectibles. A quick peek inside that door revealed the less appealing scent of musty fabrics and old furniture. There was a woman at the back who appeared busy with some stock and didn’t even acknowledge her, so Alex ducked back out quickly. The next shop was vacant, followed by a clothing store with western boots and jeans in the window, and then the last of their shops was another vacant one. One of the first things on her agenda would be to find tenants for those empty shops. They’d be far easier to sell, and fetch a much higher price no doubt, once tenanted.
Beyond their shops on the same side of the road there was a steak house restaurant, a car park and then what looked to be two more empty shops. After that the street became residential, with small cottages set back behind established gardens. She snapped several more photos, and then made her way to the other side of the street.
On this side stood the town hall and an ornate church, followed by various businesses including some cafés, a largish shop with a sign that read hardware and homewares, a gift shop, barber, and what looked to be an upmarket jewellery store. There was also a mini-mall with a directory board showing some professional suites as well as retail.
At the corner, directly across from Masons Hotel, stood the Gold Nugget Saloon—temporarily closed, according to the lawyer, due to a fire which had completely gutted the kitchen. This was the only business her great-uncle had personally managed. Past the saloon were a couple more shops that were not only empty but heading toward dereliction.
It seemed surreal that three weeks ago she’d wondered how many more years it would take to build up enough equity in her apartment so she could take a part-time job and have time to get back into coaching. And now here she was, a significant property owner, albeit in a relatively unheard of Californian town. Then again, until she spoke to the accountant she probably wouldn’t know exactly what everything was worth, but even so, she and her sisters owned nearly half of the Main Street shops, and if property values here were anything like Melbourne’s, they should be laughing. She might even be able to afford to get rid of the apartment and buy a house again. That meant she could have a yard, and having a yard meant she could have a dog. Images of a home in one of Melbourne’s leafy green suburbs filled her mind and her heart.
Shaking her head, knowing full well she was getting way ahead of herself, she began to make her way up the street toward the saloon. Just then an old pickup pulled up at the front of it, and the driver went inside through what she would have thought should be a locked front door. Her brow tightened as she recalled what Mr West had said, that works had come to a standstill when her uncle died. That being the case, no one should be going inside, tradesman or not.
Chapter 3
Travis Gold’s jaws were still clenched as he drove into town. He’d spent the morning watching the veterinarian stitch up the leg of one of his most promising fillies when he should have been working her in the arena, getting her ready for the big rodeo. That she’d injured herself was bad enough, but that he knew exactly what part of the fence she’d have done it on made it worse. He’d spotted the damaged fence the day before and neither he nor his brother had gotten out there to fix it.
As he turned into Main Street he was surprised to see his brother’s old F100 pickup at the front of the saloon. He didn’t share Denver’s love for the old rust bucket, but who was he to criticise someone’s choice of transport when he was driving a Range Rover in what was almost exclusively Ford country.
Pulling to a stop behind Denver’s pickup, he jumped out shaking his head, once again questioning his brother’s decision to get involved with the saloon. Firstly, it belonged to the Masons. Secondly, why spend time at the saloon when there were things that needed doing around their own property—like getting ready for the rodeo, and like fixing that fence before one of the horses got hurt. But besides all that, with Old Man Mason gone there wasn’t even any guarantee he’d get paid. What was he doing there now?
He stomped toward the saloon’s entrance, determined to pull Denver out of there and set him onto more lucrative tasks, but as he approached the door he heard muffled voices and his footsteps slowed unconsciously.
‘… rockabilly? It’s heaps of fun to dance to.’ That was Denver.
He couldn’t hear the response, but he did hear soft laughter. It floated out the door bringing back memories of the laugh he’d grown up listening to. It couldn’t be his mother’s though—her funeral had been almost five years ago now.
When Travis stepped inside the saloon he came to a dead halt, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. The pair immediately stopped talking, and turned to face him.
Denver stood taller as he spotted him, and even in the limited light Travis could see the change come over Denver’s face. Guilt never was his colour. The woman simply stared at him, an eyebrow quirked with curiosity.
Travis tried not to scowl, but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded. The woman’s red hair could mean just one thing; a Mason had come to town—probably to claim her inheritance.
‘Oh, er … hey Travis. How’s the filly?’ Denver smiled, but his voice betrayed his guilt.
Travis wondered if Denver felt guilty about the filly, or about what he’d been telling this woman. Either way, it didn’t matter. ‘Tom says there’s a good chance there won’t be any permanent damage, but she’ll be out of work for a while … couple months at least. Worst case, could be up to six months.’
‘Blasted mares and their kicking out.’
Travis scowled again, intentionally this time. ‘You meant to say blasted fence, and blasted people for not fixing it, right?’
Colour flooded back to Denver’s face. ‘I’ve got those standoffs in my pickup. I meant to drag them out yesterday.’
‘Yeah, well, no rush now is there? The damage has been done. I’ve moved the rest of the horses out to the back pasture, and she’ll be in a stable for at least a couple of weeks.’
Denver looked down, scuffing his feet, then seemed to remember his manners. He looked at the woman beside him, then at his older brother. ‘Oh, you two won’t have met. Travis, this is Alex Mason. She’s come all the way from Australia to have a look at the properties her uncle left her. Alex, this is my brother, Travis.’
Travis now turned to study the woman. She was tall and slender, with an athletic build. Her chestnut coloured hair, hanging just past the top of her shoulders, looked soft and silky but it was her eyes that really caught him off guard. Flecks in her green eyes sparkled like fool’s gold.
He tore his eyes away from hers and cleared his throat, and then he took a step forward and held out his hand tentatively. He wasn’t certain he wanted to touch her, in fact it seemed almost foolhardy, but if he was anything he was a man with manners. And right now he wished his father hadn’t been so hung-up on manners—hadn’t drummed them into his two boys from the time they were old enough to talk.
‘Pleased to meet you, Alex.’
He’d shake her hand, but that didn’t mean he had to make eye contact again. Instead, he stared at her hand as she reached forward and placed it in his.
‘Likewise, I’m sure,’ she said, h
er Australian accent sounding as smooth as her hair looked.
Her soft hand was at odds with her surprisingly strong grip. After a few seconds she pulled her hand back. Had she found his calloused hand disgusting? Good. Because if she did find him disgusting, maybe she’d find all the hardworking people here in Masons Flat disgusting, and sell everything. Quickly. And that could only be good for him and Denver.
Looking up, he briefly met the woman’s gaze again, and then turned back to Denver. ‘Look, I’ve gotta get going. I just spotted your pickup, and wondered what the … uh … what you were doing in here.’
Alex spoke before Denver had a chance to reply. Travis turned back to face her again.
‘I won’t stay either. I want to have a look around town before heading back to Sacramento, so I should keep moving too.’
‘You’re not staying at the old man’s house?’ Travis regretted his question as soon as the words left his mouth. Why should he care where this woman stayed? Why give her the impression he cared?
Her eyebrows rose inquisitively. ‘No, I’m staying in Sacramento—at the Tower Bridge Inn. In fact I haven’t even been over to look at the house yet. I’ve only just arrived a little while ago.’
‘Right. Well then, welcome to Masons Flat. And safe trip back to Sacramento,’ he said as he quirked a brow impatiently.
She tilted her head, as if taking his measure, then, out of nowhere, came this beautiful smile. ‘Thank you.’
Her smile was contagious, but he did his best to suppress a response, instead simply nodding. He turned to Denver and shrugged. ‘I’ll see you back at home. We’ve got a lot to do today, you know that, right?’
Denver cocked his head. ‘Yep, I’m heading out soon.’
Travis turned on his heel to leave, but before going he took one last look at the redhead. She was exactly the kind of woman he didn’t need in his life, and yet every fibre of his body yearned to be near her. All he could hope was that she’d sell everything quickly and go home.
Discovering Gold Page 2