Yes, thanks to him, his grandparents had no one else left.
He fought off a scowl and nodded for Angelique to continue.
She proceeded to read the will and all its legalese. Talmadge let her words flow over him as though it was Bea herself speaking.
Bea had updated her will a few months ago. Somewhat puzzling because Bea didn’t have much, but okay.
She had been of sound mind and body. Yep. Sharp as a tack until the day she passed.
Miranda had served as the witness to her last will and testament.
Miranda. He shifted to find a more comfortable position. Analyzed the edges of a cottony white cloud that was just starting to come into view over Angelique’s head while she spoke.
Bea left all her worldly possessions to Talmadge. No surprise.
Angelique read off the list of possessions:
First, the house and everything inside. He had no idea what he’d do with it. His life was back in Washington along with all his screwed-up investments. If he had a chance of recovering his life savings, he had to get back to Washington . . . and figure out how the hell to get his stymied building project moving again.
Next, the Subaru Talmadge had bought her some years ago—which she refused to drive, preferring Grandpa’s old Dodge Ram pickup instead. Talmadge couldn’t blame her. He preferred the gas-guzzling jalopy too. It felt more familiar. More like home than the new, economical, and environmentally friendly model.
Wouldn’t his friends crusading to stop global warming just crucify him for that?
Last, a life insurance policy, the value to revert to her account at the Red River Community Bank totaling . . .
Talmadge sat forward. “Did you just say—?”
Angelique peered at him over sophisticated reading glasses. “Yes, I did. See for yourself.” She shifted the papers and leaned across her desk so he could read it.
Holy shit.
That was a hell of a lot of zeros.
“Where’d my grandmother get that kind of money?” It wasn’t the Hail Mary he needed to cover his potential losses, but it would go a long, long way in keeping his life running until he could figure out a way to preserve the archeological ruins, strike a deal with the tribes in the Trinity Falls area, and the wheels of production could start turning again so his investment could pay off.
Angelique pulled off her reading glasses. “She got a lot of it from you.”
Talmadge tried to speak, but no words came out.
“Both of your grandparents had sizeable life insurance policies. Bea donated some of the money you sent her, but she saved most of it for a rainy day. Apparently, she made some very wise investments, too.”
Talmadge gave Angelique a blank stare, because his brain couldn’t wrap around this news.
“Since I’m fairly new in town, I didn’t know your grandmother very well, but Bea seemed like a practical woman.” Angelique tapped her glasses against the document. “Bea tried to give Miranda the inn, but Miranda refused to accept it. Said she’d pay for it or not have it at all. So I drew up the sale in the form of a contract. You’ve inherited that contract as well.”
Opening the folder, Angelique pulled out another document. “Here it is.”
Talmadge reached for the paper, but only scanned it. “I’m aware. Bea told me.” He scrubbed his good hand over his jaw. Flexed the injured hand and flinched at the soreness that shot through his shoulder. “I’m not an attorney. I’m just a guy who happens to know how to build things. I’m not even all that smart.” I’m a dumbass when it comes to investments. “I’m missing your point.” He gave the contract a shake. “What does Bea’s agreement with Miranda have to do with the rest of my inheritance? Aren’t they two separate things?”
Lacing her fingers together, Angelique nodded and leveled keen, intelligent eyes at him. “Normally, that would be true.”
Talmadge met her gaze. “But my gut tells me this situation isn’t normal.”
Angelique smiled, a look of approval spreading across her face like they’d just solved a difficult crossword puzzle together. “And something tells me that you’re much smarter than you’re willing to admit.”
He raked a hand over his jaw again and stared at Miranda and Bea’s signatures scrawled at the bottom of the page. Bea’s age showed in the shaky lettering. Miranda’s smooth, looping strokes flowed graceful and majestic across the page.
Even her handwriting turned him on.
Hell.
“Let’s hear the but,” said Talmadge.
Angelique gave him another approving smile. “But,” she said with emphasis, “there was a separate codicil that Miranda didn’t know about. No one did. Until now.”
Something speared at his gut.
Angelique’s expression softened like a mother looking at her child. He’d seen it many times in Bea’s eyes. Had seen it in his mother’s eyes on the rare occasions that she wasn’t worrying about how to please his dad so his temper wouldn’t turn explosive. “She was very proud of you. Because of how you tried to look out for her financially, she wanted to leave you a legacy in her own way.”
That was Bea. Always looking out for him, always showing him unconditional love in everything she did. Wetness welled in his eyes, before he spoke in gravelly, broken words. “She was a good woman.”
“The best, I’m told,” said Angelique. “But I still haven’t fully answered your question about how this relates to Miranda Cruz.”
No, she hadn’t, and Talmadge wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.
“She also knew that Miranda would have a hard time on her own financially. Apparently, Miranda has been working at Joe’s since she was a teenager and used her savings for the down payment on the inn and the remodel.”
He waited.
“Your grandmother wanted you to help Miranda get the inn open and running.”
He gave his head a hard shake. “Not possible. I have to get back to Washington. I’ll hire a new contractor for the inn.” A competent one. An honest one.
“Bea was very specific that she wanted you to help Miranda with this project. She said your hands-on style would ensure that the renovations would be done right, and it would help Miranda’s budget stretch.”
It would also ensure his daily involvement.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with Miranda Cruz. She was the first woman in a long while who had sparked an interest in his mind and several other parts of his body. In fact, he’d thought of little else since he walked out onto the back porch of the inn and found her on all fours with her firm, round bottom smiling up at him.
But he had to go back to Washington and deal with his problems. Especially now that he had some money to function with.
“Miranda’s contractor doesn’t seem very competent. I’ll find someone else. I can keep in touch with the new guy from Washington. Skype works wonders, so I can look the guy in the eye, and I’ll make sure he sends me the receipts. I’ll have Miranda’s kid brother check the supplies and make sure it all adds up.”
That would be helping. So he would still fulfill Bea’s last wishes, even if he wasn’t onsite. Problem solved.
Except that Angelique’s arched brow and sympathetic smile told him that there was definitely still a problem.
Rubbing at his temple—because a migraine the size of a skyscraper was coming on with every second that he sat there—he exhaled. Loudly. “What else?”
Both of her black eyebrows rose. “You are definitely a smart man.” Closing the file, she moved it aside and eased back against her burgundy leather chair. “The codicil stipulates that you can’t touch the money until the day Miranda’s inn opens for business.”
His jaw dropped.
“You’re joking.” The money in Bea’s account was the only way he could afford to pay a contractor to finish the renovations on the inn. Had his grandma gone senile, and he’d just missed it? Because including such a ridiculous demand in her will defied logic. “Bea knew it would be next to i
mpossible for me to stay in Red River that long.”
Angelique shrugged. “Apparently ‘impossible’ and ‘next to impossible’ were two very different things to your grandmother.” Angelique folded her hands in her lap. “Bea was certain that even if you offered Miranda help with money, Miranda still wouldn’t accept it.”
Right. He didn’t have much money anymore. His eyes slid shut, blocking out the impossibility of the situation. When he opened them, Angelique gave him a kindhearted look.
“Miranda’s not big on taking things she hasn’t earned. It’s one of the reasons your grandmother loved her. So Bea thought the best way to ensure Miranda’s success would be for you to offer your time and skills. She hoped Miranda would be less likely to turn that sort of help down.”
He rested an index finger against his chin, staring down at the document in his lap. “What happens if I don’t stay and help Miranda?”
Angelique picked up the folder and handed it to Talmadge. “It’s laid out in the codicil. This is your copy.”
He opened the file and scanned it. “The money goes to the city of Red River. All of it.” Talmadge tried to disguise the disbelief in his voice. He hadn’t minded Bea giving every cent to charity until five minutes ago when he thought her frugal ways and thoughtfulness had saved his sorry ass. But now? Hot anger rushed through his veins and gathered in his chest. There hadn’t been strings attached to any of the money he gave her, so why would she do this to him?
“That’s the legacy she intended. If you didn’t need or want the money, she figured you’d want it to go toward a building project that benefits others. It will be used to build an after-school sports and recreation facility for kids in Red River,” said Angelique.
And the heat lightened to lukewarm. He couldn’t help but smile at Bea’s motive. She’d always been willing to help any stray kid who came along, including him. And Miranda, too. He ran his thumb over the page where Bea had signed her name. His grandmother was one sharp cookie.
“There’s one more thing.” Angelique waved to the paper in his hand. “Look at the last paragraph.”
He did and didn’t like it one damned bit. “Why can’t I tell Miranda about the money or about what’s in Bea’s codicil?”
Angelique’s sigh said she understood what a tough spot he was in. “Apparently, Miranda has a thing about not depending on men.”
Already figured that out. Staying in control seemed to be her mission in life. “How am I supposed to get Miranda to accept my help without telling her my inheritance is tied to the opening of her inn?”
“Bea felt sure you’d figure something out. She saw how you’re able to convince celebrities and wealthy business magnates into pouring millions into your charitable environmental projects. You can tell Miranda every detail after the inn opens. Not before.” Angelique pointed to the paper. “Your grandmother was very specific.”
And the strings attached to the money were to keep him here. But for what purpose?
Inhaling deep, he looked up at Angelique. “Guess I’ll be in town for a while.”
Talmadge thanked Angelique, even though he wasn’t feeling too damn thankful at that moment, and left her office. He stepped out into the sunshine and breathed the crisp air into his lungs.
What the hell had Bea been thinking?
He walked around the building and into the alley to find some privacy while he called his second in command back in Washington. “Hey,” Talmadge said as soon as Larry Jameson answered. “I’ve run into a snag here. I’ll have to stay a little longer than I planned.”
Tension flowed through the line. “How long? Our investors are antsy, and the subcontractors aren’t going to wait forever. They’re already mumbling about moving on to their next jobsites.”
Talmadge kicked at a lump of dirty snow in the alley. “Any news from the tribal councils?”
“Not yet, but they’re meeting in a few days. Rumors are flying up here that they’re going to want us to tear down the entire building site and restore the landscape around the ruins. You know what that means.”
Hell yes, he knew what it meant. It meant he’d lose everything. Not only would it cost millions to raze the infrastructure of an entire town he’d already started laying, but it would take even more millions to start the eco-restoration process. And even then, it would be decades before the landscape would regain the natural vibrant flora and fauna.
It meant an epic professional failure that would dismantle every effort he’d made in the world of green, sustainable architecture. It meant he’d let Bea down again. Even if she wasn’t around to see it, he’d still know the truth about himself. He always had.
Fuming, Miranda traipsed down Main Street toward Lorenda Lawson’s real estate office after showering off the sawdust and changing into fresh clothes. She needed to vent to her BFF and figure out how to undo the damage caused by the Red River Rag and YouTube. A firestorm of gossip had probably burned through the entire county by now because of those pictures. Pictures of her and Talmadge posted on the Internet for the world to see. What people might think was going on in the pictures . . . And he’d broken her ladder!
Well, she wouldn’t stand for any of it.
She wouldn’t.
No one in Red River would take her seriously as a business owner if she didn’t stop the rumor mill from churning. And Talmadge had to help stop it somehow. Except that his response to the pictures on the Red River Rag was to call her sweetheart.
Her own brother had gotten the wrong impression and thought the pictures were racy. Of course, he also thought they were funny without fully understanding the implications to her reputation.
Miranda crammed her hands into her red wool coat and continued her march down Main Street, bracing herself against the cold wind.
At least Talmadge had been a gentleman about the one time she’d given in to her desire and asked him to satisfy her burgeoning curiosity. It had been time. She’d turned twenty-one, and with few prospects in Red River, she didn’t want to be a virgin forever.
When Lorenda’s high school sweetheart, Cameron Lawson, came home from the military so they could get married, Talmadge came back for the wedding. He looked so damn hot and worldly in his tuxedo compared to her, whose grand travels had included not more than a few hours in any direction. And he was leaving to go back to Washington, so no one would ever know except him and her.
Talmadge had seemed like the perfect choice. She had been inexperienced, but he was gentle when he figured out it was her first time. Taking his time to soothe her nerves, making sure she enjoyed it. A lot. It had been all she’d imagined it would be. And so, so, so much more.
But then they had walked back into Joe’s to catch the end of the reception, only to have a tall blonde throw herself into Talmadge’s arms and assault him with her pouty lips. The sight of Talmadge’s arms instinctively wrapping around the beautiful, not to mention famous, hotel-owning reality star was a sight Miranda never forgot. He’d just been doing the same thing to her. Seeing Talmadge with Momma Long Legs—who was wearing a flashy dress that probably cost more than Miranda’s tips for a whole year—had crushed her pounding heart, which had still been thrumming from his exquisite lovemaking.
The four-poster bed in the inn’s honeymoon suite where Talmadge had taken her that night was still there. Always would be. He’d made love to her in that bed like she was a precious object.
The one thing Miranda had learned that night was weddings and tuxedos and sexual curiosity were a dangerous combination. Okay, maybe she’d learned two or three more things. Very, very intimate things.
She waved absently as a car meandered down the street and beeped its horn.
Talmadge had never told a soul, as far as she knew. And she’d never let her self-restraint crumble again.
But that self-restraint may have been for nothing, thanks to her and Talmadge’s glorious wandering hands and persuasive lips showing up on the Internet. The way gossip flowed in this town, the rumors wou
ldn’t stop until a juicier story came along.
If a juicier story came along.
Fear pinged around the inside of her chest.
Miranda stopped at the intersection where one of the side streets crossed Main and waited for an old Ford to pass. She crossed the street, and two ladies walked toward her on the sidewalk. Friends of Mrs. Wilkinson.
“Hi, Miranda,” the dyed redhead said. “Nice catch.” Her voice was sultry, knowing.
Catty.
The other was heavyset with jet-black hair piled on top of her head. “Figures,” she said under her breath.
“We weren’t—” Miranda tried to say as they brushed past her.
One of them whispered, “At his grandmother’s wake no less. Glad I didn’t go.”
The other one harrumphed. “No wonder she wanted to host it.”
Miranda groaned.
In front of the heavy glass door labeled Brooks Real Estate, she came to a stop and threw the door open with a shove.
Lorenda sat behind her rustic log desk, nails clicking against a computer keyboard, blonde hair pulled back into a knot. She looked up and smiled before adjusting the stylish scarf around her neck, then kept typing. “I’d ask what’s wrong, but most of the town’s already talking about it.”
Miranda threw herself into a chair and slid down with her head leaning back and an arm over her face.
“That bad, huh? Funny you didn’t mention it last night when I called.”
Miranda nodded under her arm. “Last night I didn’t know I’d end up on YouTube or that stinking blog. I’m ashamed of what Bea would think.”
“Bea would still love you no matter what. Maybe even more.”
Miranda peeked from under her arm, giving her BFF a quizzical stare. Lorenda was a few years older than her, but they’d been like sisters since they were kids.
Lorenda shrugged while clicking away on the keyboard. “My mom thinks Bea wanted you and Talmadge to get together.”
“How does your mom know that?”
Lorenda shook her head. “No idea, but you know how the older women in this town get together and talk.”
“News flash. It’s not just the Red Hats who gossip.” Miranda sat up, still glum.
It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3) Page 8