A Case for Forgiveness

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A Case for Forgiveness Page 19

by Carol Ross


  Everything was most definitely not okay.

  She didn’t want to need him. She didn’t need him, she told herself. Except for his legal expertise—the one thing she knew he was capable of giving freely and the one thing she could accept without getting her heart broken—again.

  “I need to talk to my family. I need to figure this out.” She turned and walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ADELE WAS GONE. Shay’s family was still gathered in the living room. Her mom and dad were now talking quietly. The triplets were asking questions of Hannah and trying to catch up on what was already known about Adele.

  Tag told Shay he’d called Bering, Janie and their mom, Claire, and that they were on their way over. They arrived quickly with Laurel—she’d been visiting Janie so she’d driven both her and Aunt Claire over. Shay invited her to stay, and Bering and Emily showed up a few minutes later.

  Tag asked, “Jonah, is this possible? I mean, I understand that Great Uncle Eli could have had a child, but the part about Adele owning a part of the inn? There has to be something we can do.”

  Jonah stood in front of the family and explained. “Ms. Mason came to see me—she actually came to see Gramps, but talked to me instead. So I’ve had time to do some research.

  “As most of you probably know, Gus, Eli and Lyman’s parents, Isaac and Viola, built a home where the Faraway Inn stands and ran it as a boardinghouse for years, along with Gus and Eli’s help. After that original structure burned to the ground and Isaac and Viola perished in the fire, the property passed to all three of the brothers equally.

  “Eli soon moved to the lower forty-eight to enter into business there with his brother Lyman in Colorado.”

  More nodding and anxious anticipation from the Jameses. “Gus eventually rebuilt the boarding house as the Faraway Inn, but the main point here is that the structure was built on Isaac and Viola’s homesteaded property, which at one time belonged to all three of the brothers.

  “Gus purchased Lyman’s third of the property, and is shown in court documents. However, I have been unable to find any evidence or documentation showing that a purchase was ever concluded between Gus and Eli. As far as I have been able to ascertain, Eli’s interest in this property has never been adequately or legally addressed.”

  Jonah took a second to gather his thoughts. “Long story short, this means that if Adele Mason is Eli’s daughter, she may rightfully have a claim to as much as one-third of the property the inn is situated on.

  “There are other legal issues here that I am still researching, but we now know there is a probable direct heir to Eli, unknown at the time of his death, so the courts will eventually decide how this will all shake out...unless a settlement can be reached instead.”

  “But Shay has been paying the taxes on the property and the inn since Grandpa died,” Hannah pointed out.

  “Yes, she has,” Jonah agreed. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean anything with regards to property ownership. The only way property can legally change hands is through a deed.”

  “The inn was built with Gus and Ellen’s money and hard work. And Shay has poured so much into the building and grounds since she inherited it,” Margaret added.

  Jonah replied, “That’s true and according to my estate specialist colleague those improvements should not be considered part of the settlement. We can only trust the court will take all of this into account—if it gets that far. But the fact remains that for the purposes of ownership you can’t separate a structure from the property it sits on. If Adele’s claim is true—if she is in fact Eli’s daughter—she is probably entitled to something. At this point, we don’t know what that something is—or even what she will be asking for.”

  “Poor thing,” Margaret said quietly. Every head turned in her direction.

  “Mom!” Hannah exclaimed. “Quit saying that.”

  “Well, really, Hannah, think about it. Imagine not having any family in the world and then finding out you may in fact have some? How do you tell them? She was obviously terrified that she wouldn’t be accepted. That’s sad and I feel sorry for her. As far as I’m concerned if she’s a James, then she’s family. I don’t think she’s probably had a lot of love in her life.”

  “Mom, how could you possibly assume something like that?” Hannah asked.

  “Why else would she think that we wouldn’t want to get to know her?”

  “Margaret,” their dad, Ben, said. “Biology doesn’t necessarily make someone family in every sense of the word. Her behavior has been questionable. We welcomed her into our home and I don’t care if she was scared—it was deceitful to befriend Hannah and Shay and not disclose who she really is. If she really is Uncle Eli’s daughter.” The family continued discussing the issue and Jonah couldn’t help but think that Shay had inherited her mother’s compassion, the same compassion that had allowed her to hire Adele at the inn without checking into her background.

  Jonah didn’t comment, although he definitely agreed with Ben. But his place at this point was to offer up the legalities, not express his personal opinion about Adele James—at least not to the entire family.

  * * *

  SHAY DID HER best to carry on like everything was okay. She had to; she had guests to take care of, rooms needed cleaning, bills needed to be paid. She was also increasingly aware of how much time she’d spent in the past worrying about the inn—worrying about things that she shouldn’t have wasted so much of her energy on. Because here she was, all of a sudden, with real and serious problems, including a lawsuit brought by Mr. Konrad.

  Jonah had received an intent to sue letter, targeting both Shay and the inn—the inn which might not even belong solely to her. It might be funny except that it wasn’t.

  She found herself in the unwelcome position of needing Jonah, but not wanting to need him. She had to extricate herself from the personal entanglement she’d foolishly begun, even as she had to rely on him for the legal problems she was suddenly mired in.

  And, she realized as she walked down the street toward the hardware store to pick up a new toilet kit, because toilets also needed fixing, that she needed to eat. She ducked into the Caribou to grab a sandwich to go.

  She paid for her food and browsed through the Bargain Blitz while she waited for her order. Shay circled an ad for a hot tub, the same model that she had at the inn, which could be a good way to secure replacement parts. A lump of emotion clogged her throat as she acknowledged that those hot tubs might no longer belong to her—the hot tubs that she and Tag had painstakingly installed.

  Shay accepted the white paper sack containing her order and turned to go, and that’s when she saw, on the far side of the restaurant’s crowded interior, Laurel seated at a booth with Adele Mason.

  An unwelcome feeling of apprehension claimed her as her brain registered the sight. The two women were hunched over the table as if their conversation was extremely riveting—and private. Laurel knew everything about this situation with Adele—she’d been there when Jonah had informed the family.

  She wouldn’t be doing a story on this, would she? Without consulting her? Shay had to admit the circumstances would make a great story; “long lost relative returns to claim share of family’s heritage.” Shay nearly cringed at the buzz this would undoubtedly cause in town.

  Laurel was as passionate about reporting as Jonah was about the law, but the difference was that like Shay, nothing was more important to Laurel than her friends and her sister Piper—the only family that she did have. Laurel had always been devoted to the James family—she probably knew more about the family than Shay did. Grandpa Gus had been the one to help Laurel become emancipated at the age of sixteen so she could acquire custody of Piper after their mother abandoned them. So what was Laurel doing with Adele?

  She exited out the door and the blast of bright sunshine chafed at her already-frayed nerves. She told herself she was being paranoid—it was disloyal to even contemplate whether Laurel might betray her
.

  Still she wondered how much worse things could possibly get.

  * * *

  AND THAT WAS a question she should have known better than to ask because things can always get worse. Jonah was waiting in her office when she returned to the inn with her newly purchased toilet kit and her uneaten, now unappetizing sandwich.

  Shay knew what he wanted to talk about and she knew what she needed to say, but closing the book on her and Jonah would cause more pain that she wasn’t quite ready to bear.

  “Jonah, I don’t have the time for this.”

  “That seems to be the story of my life where we’re concerned, doesn’t it?”

  “Jonah, there is no ‘we’ and I really am very busy.”

  “I realize things are crazy for you right now, but I think there is a we, and what I said on our date the other night is true. I meant every word. I know you’re angry with me for not telling you about Adele. But now that you’ve had some time to think things over, I hope you can understand why I couldn’t tell you.”

  Shay clenched her teeth together in frustration. Why was it that he always implied that their arguments were the result of her being too emotional or irrational? Like her reaction was the problem rather than the fact that his priorities were all wrong.

  “Jonah, I have been thinking—”

  “Good, because my feelings haven’t changed.”

  Shay looked into his face and was sure that this had never happened; she could see what Jonah was thinking but wished she couldn’t. His blue eyes seemed to be searching her face for some kind of encouragement, some sign that she returned his feelings. But she couldn’t give him anything.

  “Mine have.”

  And just like that the curtain dropped, replaced by a stony expression.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Jonah, you chose the law over me ten years ago and you did it again with Adele. You believe you were doing the right thing—the ethical thing—by keeping this from me. No doubt it was the legal thing to do. But I don’t even care about that so much as...the fact that it made me see how different we truly are.

  “I used to believe that it was money that you were after, and I still think that’s a huge part of how you measure success. But I was getting around to accepting that about you because you are a very generous person, Jonah. I can see that now. You have a wonderful heart. But it seems to me that we live life with such a completely opposite focus.”

  Jonah closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then he looked directly at her. The absence of emotion on his face made her feel far worse than his original disappointment.

  “Shay, I’m not sure what to tell you. There is so much about what you said that I want to dispute, but there’s some truth there, too...”

  Shay waited for him to continue.

  “My career is important to me—that’s true. But I believe this inn is just as important to you as the law is to me. I know you don’t want to hear this, but we both made choices all those years ago, Shay. I had reasons for the decisions I made, just like you did.

  “I feel about the Faraway Inn the same as you do about the law. I believe this place is what kept us apart—not only my career, and yet I’m...”

  He stood up.

  “You’re what?” Shay asked. Each beat of her heart seemed to amplify her sadness and regret. Why did it always hurt so much to do what was right where Jonah was concerned?

  Jonah moved toward the door. “Nothing—never mind. I have an appointment, but we’ll get these legal matters taken care of, okay? I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  JONAH CHECKED THE time again and worried as to where Hannah was. Konrad would be arriving soon for a settlement conference. Jonah still didn’t know what this “evidence” consisted of that Hannah said might help their side of the case.

  Hannah burst through the door holding up a cell phone with a bright blue cover. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to recharge it. I’ve watched it too many times.”

  “You have video?”

  “Yes, just a sec and we can watch it on the monitor.” She plugged something into his computer and then stood back. “I like to call this Man versus Moose,” she said with a grin as the screen came alive, showing Mr. Konrad snapping photos by the koi pond.

  “Let me turn up the volume because the kid filming and his friend provide some commentary. It’s hilarious.” She reached over and adjusted the sound.

  A voice began narrating. “Here we have an old guy tourist stalking the wily, wild goldfish.”

  Jonah assumed it was the voice of a teenager, but he was doing a superb imitation of those wildlife shows where they talk in an exaggeratedly low tone so as not to scare the wildlife that they’d undoubtedly filmed the day before.

  “They are koi,” Hannah whispered. “Why can’t people get that right?”

  “Will he get the shot? Or will the crafty fish dodge the lens once again? Oh, there’s an orange and white one—they are notoriously camera shy, those fish. They’ve only been caught on film eighteen-million times in the last month alone. Hold still little fishy...”

  The commentary went on, but the video blurred as another voice murmured an expletive and then said, “Holy crap, dude—moose.”

  “Whoa! Awesome.” The picture focused on a large cow moose and her gangly calf as they strolled toward the pond.

  Konrad was no longer in the picture.

  “Wow. That baby moose is cute.”

  “Mom has super long legs—like as tall as you, dude.”

  “Funny. Oh...hey, what is that tourist guy doing?”

  Konrad was back in the scene now and snapping away like some kind of wannabe wildlife paparazzi, but without the agility—or the common sense.

  Jonah winced as the videographer panned out and Clara came into full view on the screen; hair standing up on the back of her neck, ears laid flat. Konrad kept moving closer to the calf.

  “Uh-oh,” Jonah said, riveted by the naiveté of the man on the screen, clearly risking his life. Jonah was also surprised by Clara’s level of tolerance at this point. He’d once been with Bering, Tag and Cricket when they’d come upon a cow moose with twins in the middle of the road. The protective mother had rammed Bering’s pickup when he’d tried to drive around her—twice.

  The teenagers were snickering and Konrad kept getting closer. Clara warned him with a foot stomp and a snort. Konrad moved so that he was now between Clara and the pond. The film suddenly zeroed in on the sign next to the pond, warning about keeping a safe distance from wildlife.

  “Brilliant,” Jonah breathed.

  Hannah snickered. “I know, right? This kid has a future as a journalist.”

  “Whoa, she’s getting ticked,” the second teenager said. “She’s like blowing snot out of her nose.”

  “Yeah. Emmett, do you think we should warn him?”

  The second teen called out, “Hey, mister? You might want to back off a little. She’s getting really upset and—”

  Then both boys started shouting. The picture jumped and blurred slightly as Clara charged, but remained on the scene. The image was re-focused quickly.

  Jonah couldn’t help himself—he had to laugh because Konrad reminded him of a cartoon character as he whipped his head over one shoulder and took off at full speed. But on about the third stride he hit the edge of the trough and face-planted into the koi pond.

  The boys were yelling for help, the video kept running, Konrad was flailing, and Clara went in after him, hooves stomping, head butting.

  Suddenly a young man came into the picture banging on a pot with a spoon.

  “That’s Vince,” Hannah said. “Clara knows that sound because Javier does that when he feeds her vegetables from the kitchen.”

  Clara’s head came up, ears perked, and she backed out of the pond. She shook like some kind of giant, scraggly dog, then turned and jogged away with her baby glued to her side.

  Konrad now stood sputtering, shaking and drenched in water nearly up
to his waist. His head whipped back and forth as if searching for evidence of his attacker. Then he reached down and snatched something out of the water.

  He stared at his camera and the second teen said with an ill-concealed snigger, “Dude, do you think it’s waterproof?”

  “Wicked! Man—that guy’s so lucky he’s not like dead right now.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Hannah remarked, as she reached over and stopped the video. “Have you ever seen a bigger blockhead in your life? I thought you attorneys were supposed to be smart.”

  Jonah asked in his best lawyerly tone, “Do you realize what you’ve done here?”

  Hannah’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean? Am I in trouble? I haven’t showed anyone yet—not even Shay.”

  Then he grinned. “Hannah, your quick thinking undoubtedly saved your sister thousands of dollars.”

  Hannah blew out a breath of relief. “Phew. Good.”

  “How did you get this? How did you even know about it?”

  “Vince,” Hannah answered. “He saw the boys outside, thought they might be witnesses. I asked around until I found them, learned they’d recorded it, and then bought the phone from the kid. Paid way too much for it, too.”

  The bell chimed and Jonah looked at the clock. Konrad was right on time—and in for the surprise of his life.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SHAY THOUGHT JONAH looked comfortable here in Caleb’s office, lording over this legal microcosm he’d created, however temporary it may be. The notion gave her an extra boost of confidence about the conversation they’d had only the day before about their relationship—or lack thereof.

  This was where Jonah thrived—where he belonged—and no matter how disappointing, she needed to concentrate on that because right now she needed him. Well, not him, but his legal expertise. He might not be able to separate the two, but she could.

 

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