“I was about to say you two and Helen should hear about some of the potential problems that may result from this transaction.”
Both Tess and Meg sat at once. “What problems?” Meg asked, annoyed he wouldn’t have discussed all issues before she signed the contract.
Helen refused to sit. Instead, she put her groceries away and started lunch.
“First of all, the sale is almost certainly to be contested.”
“Can they do that?” Tess challenged. “It’s Gram’s property. Why should anyone else have a say?”
“They will claim she is old and has lost the ability to make decisions and insist Miss Williams manipulated her into entering a contract Helen would not have signed if she were in her right mind.”
“But none of that is true!” Tess yelled.
“Well, I am old,” Helen said as she placed fresh fish on her kitchen grill.
“That is why Helen is going to accompany me to dinner tomorrow. The judge will make a very credible witness to Helen’s state of mind given he was a psychiatrist before he decided he could do more good as a judge.”
“Which he has,” Helen added.
“Will that be enough?” Meg asked.
“When Helen explains her reason for selling the property below market and the fact she sought you out, not the other way around, it will repudiate their claim of manipulation.”
Helen turned around. “Hold on, you can’t use my letter to Meg. She changed her identity, and all my research was done on her prior name. I don’t want any connection made between who she is and who she was.”
Jonas snorted and glared at Helen. “Name changes are not confidential government records. Anyone can find out who she was.”
Meg’s heart tightened in worry. Had she gone through all this effort for nothing? Was the curse going to cling to her for life? “Are you sure? The FBI assured me no one would connect me to my former self.”
His brow furrowed in a hundred wrinkles. “Your identity change was handled by the FBI?”
She nodded.
“Then there should be no trail. I thought you had merely submitted a name change to the clerk’s office of your state.”
Meg breathed out in relief.
“If you are under witness protection, then your handler should be notified of this contract before we go any further.”
“I’m not.”
His frown remained.
“Jonas, it’s not our business why Miss William had to change her name.”
“Then you don’t know either?” he challenged.
Helen placed a hand on her hip and waved her cooking fork with the other. “In fact, I do, but it doesn’t change my issue. You’re just being nosy.”
Jonas’s stern eyes focused on Meg. “I beg to differ with Helen. I can’t afford to be blindsided.”
Meg agreed. “I was getting death threats that the FBI judged to be credible. While they lacked the manpower to protect me or determine who sent them, they did help me change my identity.”
He still didn’t relax. “And were these death threats due to any crime you may have committed.”
“No!” Helen yelled before Meg could answer. “I probably know more about Meg than myself. She is honorable, honest, and hardworking. Which is why I sought her out to buy my land. And for your information, she is the one who came up with donating the land to the state to keep it safe forever and hiring Tess to manage it.”
Jonas held his hands up in surrender. “I withdraw the question.” He smiled at Meg. “And apologize.”
“You’re just looking after Helen,” Meg said.
“I try, but she doesn’t make it easy. Donating the land will take time, possibly a year, to execute. Still, if you begin the process immediately, it will convince the judge your motive is not to swindle Helen.”
“Which he would think if I bought and kept the woods, given she is selling the property to me at below market value.”
“Precisely.”
Meg smiled as she thought of another issue. “The stipulations protecting the trees from being cut down should also help since they lower the value of the property significantly. A developer wouldn’t have paid a dime with those restrictions in the contract.”
Jonas smiled. “Excellent point. And it proves Helen is as smart as she ever was.”
“Meg wrote the contract,” Helen said as she flipped the fish.
Meg shook her head. “I asked my lawyer to include the conditions Helen had stated in her letter to me. They take precedent until and unless the land is donated to the state to remain as a forest in perpetuity.”
“Do you mind if I claim Helen as the originator of that part.”
“Not at all, because she was.”
“Any chance you have the letter?” Jonas asked.
“Yes, but it’s addressed to my prior name.”
Helen glared at Jonas. “Move on old man.”
Jonas turned and faced Helen. “Will you, at least, be willing to confide with the judge tomorrow why you prioritize your trees over your children and grandchildren, including this nonsense Jeffrey has gotten into?”
She huffed. “I don’t see how it’s his damn business.”
“Because he will either rule on your competency case or, if he recuses himself, he will be the best witness we can get.”
“But what if he gets Jeffrey’s fraud case?”
“I’m hoping we can get the matter settled with no charges filed. Once the developer realizes the land is gone, then his best option will be to accept the amount he loaned Jeffrey.”
Meg doubted he’d take so little. “He’ll probably want more since he’ll know the amount you received from the record of the sale. He may ask for it all.”
Helen snorted.
Jonas held his hand up. “The developer knows Helen’s recalcitrant nature. Our best offer will be the loan amount plus a five percent interest. If he refuses to settle, then I’ll advise him to sue Jeff and see what he can get.”
Meg smiled. “So he can be reasonable, or get nothing but the satisfaction of seeing Jeffrey in jail. Which he probably won’t do if he and Jeffrey are friends.”
Helen laughed. “How did you figure that out?”
“Because no sane person would have loaned anyone but a friend so much money without verifying this land was irrevocably the property of the borrower.” She paused. “To be honest, this has the markings of an attempt to swindle you, Helen.”
Helen glanced at Jonas. “She’s a smart one. She doesn’t even know Jeffrey.”
Jonas smiled at her. “I’m impressed again, Miss Williams. We do in fact believe this is a scheme to force Helen to sell her land to the developer. And since he would hold all the cards, he’d no doubt lowball the price he’d pay. My guess is Jeffrey expects to get a substantial kickback beyond the relinquishment of his outstanding loan of sixty million dollars.”
Meg nodded. “If razed to the ground, they’d be looking at billions from the property.”
A faint smile came to Jonas. “I didn’t think you knew the potential value of these woods, but clearly you did. Yet still, you wrote the contract in such a way to make the land nearly worthless.”
“I’ll speak for the trees on this matter,” Tess said. “They think the contract is priceless.”
“Lunch is ready.” Helen placed a platter of grilled salmon, broccoli, tomatoes, and brown rice on the counter. She then walked behind Tess already seated at the counter and kissed her on her head. “I love you so much.”
Tess smiled up at her. “I love you more.”
Helen playfully smacked her forehead. “Do not.”
“Do, too.”
Jonas stood and frowned when Helen set out a fourth plate. “Not going on a date unless you have lunch with me,” she warned.
“But my assistant is waiting in the car.”
“Tess, go get the poor girl. She’s probably half-starved and in need of a bathroom.”
Tess hurried off and soon returned with the y
oung woman who went to Jonas and whispered in his ear before sitting down.
Jonas smiled at Meg. “May I ask when you had time to wire the money?”
“I sent it the moment you said the contract was good.”
He shook his head. “Now, that was foolish. It is not uncommon for the opposing lawyer to throw in all sorts of nonsense right up to the signing, especially if they know the money has already been sent.”
Helen focused on Meg. “I appreciate your trust in me, but what you did was reckless.”
Normally, Megan hated to be scolded, but in this case, she’d earned it. “I never have before and probably never will again, but I knew without a doubt that I could this time. Even if Jonas had been the shifty type, you would have held him to your word.”
Jonas lifted his glass to her and then winked at Helen. “She would, too.”
“All right, you were spot on this time. But don’t ever do it again.” Helen sobered. “I might not be around in the future to make Jonas behave, and he’s a wily old bird.”
Jonas rubbed his furrowed brow and stared out the wall of windows.
Knowing why Helen might not be around, Meg had to excuse herself to the bathroom before she burst into tears. The thought of such a fabulous woman dying was too much to bear.
Chapter 6
After lunch, his assistant repacked the briefcases while Jonas discussed a few more concerns.
“Tess, not a word to anyone. Helen, dress up nice for our date. Meg, get in touch with the lawyer I suggested. We need the process begun at once.”
Meg pulled the business card from her pocket and glanced at the name. “I’ll call Joe Cane now,” she replied and hurried back to her room.
An hour later, she rolled her luggage into the living room.
“You’re leaving us?” Tess cried in dismay.
“Mr. Cane made room for me to see him today, but it’s at six this evening, which means I’ll need to stay overnight in Dubuque.”
“Oh…” Tess said with disappointment. “Well, you are right to plan an overnight stay. No one should drive these roads at night.” She huffed and looked at Meg with the cutest, sad, puppy dog eyes. “At least, you got one good hike.” The next moment, Tess hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re saving our woods.”
“Me, too,” Meg said and looked at Helen. “I’ll keep you two updated on the progress of the donation.”
“Update me, not Tess,” Helen said.
Tess’s mouth fell open.
“I have reason to believe your phone is bugged. Otherwise, my house wouldn’t have been full of relatives the day you arrived.”
“Grams, I would never betray you!”
“I never thought you would. Which means someone must have tapped your phone.”
“Are you certain they don’t have your phone tapped?” Meg asked.
“I’m sure they do by now, but they tapped the old copper-line upstairs. I have a fiber line system down here.”
Tess groaned. “Then it was my phone. It would explain how my father knew some other stuff.” She shook her head in anger. “I really hate him sometimes.” Tess’s eyes turned watery. “Mind if I just live here forever?”
Helen wrapped her arms around the young woman. “You are always welcome here.” She looked at Meg. “You, too. I realize you’ll probably want to stay far away from the fireworks, but when the dust settles, we’d love for you to come visit.”
Tess smiled for a moment, then her brow furrowed. “I gather neither Uncle Jeffrey nor Dad knows about this house going to me.”
Helen chuckled. “It’s more likely they just don’t care since they think it’s a small cabin without an indoor toilet. Now let’s see Meg off. You get her computer case, and I’ll wheel the luggage.”
With directions in hand, luggage in the trunk, and her computer case on the passenger floor board, Meg waved goodbye and set off on the “better” road.
She soon discovered the subjective nature of the word “better”.
She missed Andy leading the way and calling out potholes. Now she faced them on her own, which meant she drove at the speed of a turtle. As if frustrated by her sluggish crawl, the car would, on occasion, speed up on its own. She countered the problem by putting it into neutral and coasting down the hill.
Still, at every hairpin curve, the engine would rev frantically, and she would have to fight the wheel to get it to turn. She named her rental Christine 2 after Stephen King’s malevolent car. She crept down, using gravity and her brakes. By the time she reached flat land, her arms shook with fatigue.
If there had been a town in sight, she would have found a rental place and turned in this piece of shit. While there was the occasional house to be seen amongst the miles of crops, she saw no towns and no signs to towns. Thus, she had no choice but to put the car back into gear and drive onward.
West.
But Dubuque was clearly north of St. Donatus.
Great! She was lost once again. She cursed a flat tire on whoever stole her GPS.
Maybe the road to Dubuque looped around some natural impediment.
She continued forward, wishing for a road sign or something to confirm this theory. When she reached crossroads clearly in a grid, she abandoned hope and decided to turn north, certain she’d gotten off track.
Halfway into her turn, the car soared forward like a dog sighting a rabbit. She struggled to turn the wheel sufficiently to keep the piece of crap on the road. Seeing a pickup truck coming straight at her, she cursed and leaned her whole body into turning the wheel further. Finally, she got the car mostly back onto her side of the road. The truck passed by, horn blaring. She couldn’t blame his anger. She was more than annoyed herself.
Having failed to kill her, the deathtrap became a little angel again.
“Stupid piece of shit.”
She no longer looked for signs to Dubuque. She’d never make it to the city alive in this car. What she needed was a garage, a car rental shop, or a car lot, used or new, she didn’t care.
Then the grid ended, forcing her to turn left or right. She decided to go right, mostly because it was easier to turn the wheel that way.
Midway in the turn, the engine revved. This time, she was ready and knocked it into neutral. Unable to turn the car sufficiently, she slammed on the brakes, stopping it in the middle of the road. The engine continued to scream as she took a moment to let her heart settle and arms recover.
This had to be the Lottery’s curse. Cars did not turn into death traps on their own.
The crackling of gravel made Meg look up. A red pickup stopped behind her car.
Great! Probably a serial killer.
A white-haired man in his sixties wearing a cowboy hat climbed out and came toward her. “Trouble?”
“Yeah, my car’s gone Christine on me.”
His brow furrowed. “Could you turn off the engine and step out of the car?”
Turn off the engine…great idea! She did and smiled at the silence. “I should have thought of that myself.”
Her door opened, and the man gently gripped her arm and helped her out.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I will be…just shaken up. I’ve never had a car decide to drive itself before.”
He led her to his pickup truck. “Just stay here while I move your car to one side. Otherwise, someone is going to plow into it.”
She looked up and down the three empty roads. What someone?
“Be careful,” she warned, but the man had already closed the door and started the engine.
Naturally, it purred like a sweet little kitten. Of course! This man didn’t have a curse. Only for her did cars turn into Christine.
“Damn car, I should have gone back into the rental place and demanded a Subaru,” she grumbled.
The next moment all hell broke loose. With wheels squealing and brakes burning, the car slammed into the steep ditch by the road.
Oh God, her curse had killed some well-intentioned bystander.
By the time Meg reached the ditch, the fellow had opened the door and climbed out of her wrecked car. Just then an ancient, pointy-finned, rusted car from the 1950s rolled up. A curly-haired, square-jawed guy in his late twenties jumped out and ran to her car in the ditch. “Lee, you okay?” He remained near the top of the ditch but extended his hand to help Lee up the steep incline.
Once he had the old man safely on the road, he turned to Meg. “You should be tossed in jail and have your license revoked.”
“I’m the one who drove it in the ravine,” Lee chided.
“Well, she’s the one who damn near killed me on Old Davenport. I had to go halfway into the ditch to avoid her and bent an axle doing so. My truck’s at Harvey’s getting fixed.”
The old man stared at the rusted junk heap on the road. “I see he gave you his loaner.”
“I would have told him to keep it and just called you, but I have to be in Dubuque before five.”
Meg’s head snapped up at his mention of Dubuque. “Can you give me a lift?”
His square jaw clenched for a moment. “Are you insane? You almost killed me.”
The old man interceded. “It wasn’t her fault, Traver. There is something seriously wrong with this car.”
“Yeah, it has a loose nut behind the wheel.”
“It didn’t drive any better for me.” Lee gripped Traver’s arm and led him away so Meg couldn’t hear their conversation. Didn’t work since Traver never spoke below a bellow.
“Oh come on! You have to give her a ticket at least!”
Lee responded, but his words were too soft to hear. However, his hand gestures were quite emphatic.
“The hell she won’t!” Traver replied.
The old man said something else, and both men walked toward her.
“May I see your driver’s license, please?” the old man asked.
Okay, this was getting way too weird. She stepped back a couple of feet. “I’m not comfortable handing out my driver’s license to strangers. Can we call a policeman?”
“Why, so you can stick Lee with the bill for wrecking your car?” Traver challenged.
“No…there’s something seriously wrong with the car. Driving in the ditch”—she nodded to her wrecked car—“was not his fault. However, I’d rather you never know my name.”
A Fortune to Die For (White Oak - Mafia Series Book 1) Page 7