by Ariana Dupre
"Where should I wait while you meet with Ms. Benton?” Jared asked, closing the door behind them.
"I need to speak with both of you.” Alan went into an office attached to the reception area, took off his jacket and hung it on a wooden coat rack.
"Both of us?” Angie glanced at Jared then stared through the open door at Alan. Was her long time friend playing matchmaker or was this another of his projects? “Together?"
"That's right. Come on in, have a seat.” Alan motioned them both to sit down in the maroon high backed chairs facing his desk and busied himself gathering paperwork and laying it across his large mahogany desk. “Oh, Angie, before I forget, Eddie called last night. He said to tell you hello."
"Tell him hi when you talk to him again, since he never calls me anymore.” Angie scooted back in the huge chair. Her belt squeaked against the leather as she settled into it. She tilted her briefcase against the chair's leg.
She thought about all the times Alan had tried to involve her in some project or another over the years, while fixing her up with a “nice man” who was also helping out. She'd been more than willing to help him in the past, putting up with his attempts at playing Cupid, since she loved him like a father. But this time, she'd have to pass, especially if it involved Jared Maxwell. And from the sound of it, that was exactly what Alan had in mind.
"So what's going on, Alan? I thought we were just rescheduling the meeting I missed yesterday. This doesn't involve Mr. Maxwell."
"There were some other developments yesterday. I needed you both here so I could do this once and get it over with."
"This sounds interesting,” said Jared, as he took the window seat beside Angie.
Angie glowered at Jared but he just grinned in response, so she turned to Alan now sitting behind his desk. “Well, whatever it is, Alan, I don't have time to take on any additional projects right now. You know how busy I've been with the store."
"Yes, I know. But this involves The Variety Vine."
"What do you mean?” asked Angie.
"The Slayton estate bordering each of your properties sold yesterday,” said Alan.
"I noticed that,” she said, studying Alan. “And that affects us how?"
"I've heard the rumors about that farm being haunted,” said Jared. “Do you think they have a factual basis?"
Alan nodded. “I have a letter Ruby wrote to her son that proves how Theodore died."
Everyone else in Dansburg had heard the story of Ruby and Theodore, but Angie wondered why Jared Maxwell was so interested in those old stories. “But what does this have to do with us, Alan?” she asked impatiently, her voice strained.
Alan tapped a pencil on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “Did you know that Sam Slayton passed away the day before yesterday?"
"Yes, I heard,” said Angie, “and I thought it strange that his estate was sold within twenty-four hours of his death. I mean his funeral's tomorrow."
"I didn't know,” said Jared.
Alan nodded. “Well, the sale went exactly as Sam willed it."
"I don't understand,” said Jared.
"The original plantation totaled five hundred acres and included your farm Jared, and Angie's twenty acres.” Alan set the pencil aside. “The Slayton's went through some hard times and sold your properties off from the original estate. But, they added a combo clause, which followed all future sales."
"Is this the clause to ensure the unity of the original estate?” asked Jared.
Alan nodded and pulled out a sheet of paper, yellowed with age. “In the clause, it states that if the last Slayton died without an heir, the main estate would be combined with the other two farms to unite the original property."
Angie took the paper from Alan. The hand written part at the bottom grabbed her attention so she started reading it.
Alan continued, “The owners of the other two farms would inherit fifty percent ownership of the union of all three properties. Sam Slayton, knowing that he wouldn't have an heir, added to this clause three years ago."
"Oh God!” gasped Angie. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “Alan, please tell me this isn't true."
Leaning forward to prop his elbows on the desk, Alan watched Angie. “Yes, it's true but this is a good thing, Angie. Now each of you owns half of the original estate. That's 250 acres each. You just have to complete all of the requirements."
"I don't think I remember all of the details,” said Jared. His hand stopped beside Angie's. “May I?"
Trembling, Angie gave him the document, “You knew about this?” she confronted Jared.
"Yes, didn't you?"
Angie shook her head.
"Jared,” asked Alan, “would you read the clause aloud?"
"Sure. Mr. Slayton's addition states—” he looked down to read the clause—"Upon my death, all three farms which made up the original Slayton estate will be deeded as one property as per the combo clause. The current owners of the two separate farms must live together continuously, without leaving, in the homestead located on the main property, while it is renovated into a Bed and Breakfast Inn that will honor the Slayton name. All supplies must be ordered through the executor. Should the parties succeed in creating a fully functional Inn, they will each retain fifty percent ownership in the land, buildings and businesses associated with all three properties. However, if either party refuses to participate, then both parties forfeit their original investments. The original five hundred acre Slayton estate will then be sold at private auction to the highest bidder who agrees to the creation and continued success of the Slayton Bed and Breakfast Inn."
Angie stared in disbelief at Jared.
He looked up and then said, “This works for me."
Panicking, her breathing becoming ragged, Angie turned to Alan. “No, this isn't possible, Alan. You never mentioned this to me before today."
Alan looked alarmed. “Angie, I'm so sorry. Martha knew about this clause. I just assumed she'd told you at some point.” Concerned, he stood and came to her side.
"No, she never said a word,” she whispered, searching his face for some sign that this was all a big, bad joke.
Alan crouched down. “Angie, are you okay?” He took her smooth hands in his wrinkled ones and looked at her intently. “You look pale. Would you like some water?"
Angie nodded; then took a deep breath while Alan went to get the drink. She looked at her hands shaking in her lap. “I can't believe Aunt Martha didn't tell me,” she whispered.
"I knew this was always a possibility,” Jared put in. “It really is a good investment if you think about it. We can each have our homes, you can still run your store, and now we'll both own more property and have a new business to share."
Angie was sure her eyes were going to pop out of her head from staring at Jared so much. There was no way she could live in the homestead alone with him. It was the entire summer, when one day would be far too long to be confined with the man who terrorized her nightly in dreams.
Alan came in and Angie took the glass of water he offered and sipped.
"Better now?"
"A little,” she said weakly as Alan returned to his seat behind the desk. How will I ... how can I share living quarters with this man? Why did the clause say we must live together in the homestead? Just my luck.
"Okay, there's also a trust set up with enough funds in it to finance the renovation and for start up money for the Inn."
"How much?” asked Jared.
"A little over a million dollars."
"What?" Angie and Jared said in unison.
"Yes, over a million."
"Why would he do that, Alan?” Angie scooted to the edge of her chair and sat the water glass on Alan's desk. “If Sam had that much money, why not just renovate the place himself while he was alive?"
"I don't know, Angie,” Alan answered. “I do know Sam was eccentric and very proud. It's unconventional, and he never gave me a reason why he wanted it done this way. Maybe Sam felt his plan would
create a legacy just as the haunting rumors keep up interest in the Slayton place. Whatever his reasons, I'll be working with you to ensure the Inn's success. The way I see it, between the three of us, we have the skills to make it work."
"Why would you want to help us?” asked Jared.
"I was Sam's lawyer for many years. He made me the executor of his estate, but not in the traditional sense. I agreed that in lieu of payment as executor, I would be paid when the renovation was complete. But I don't collect any money until you open for business. As you can see, I, too, have a stake in the Inn's success."
Angie slid back in her chair, gripping her hands together. She might as well find out all the details if not participating meant losing the store. “What skills are you referring too, Alan?"
"You gave up your interior design career in Roanoke to come back here and run The Variety Vine after Martha's death. You could offer your redecorating expertise and work on the interior of the homestead,” Alan said. Then he turned to Jared, “Your background is in developing subdivisions and selling real estate, Jared. You could contribute your construction and real estate knowledge to aid in the remodeling of the house and other areas of the property. I will handle the marketing to ensure we have guests for the Inn."
"I'm sorry, Alan,” said Angie, “there's no one I can trust to run The Variety Vine."
"What about Sharon Brady? She used to help Martha run the store,” Alan suggested. “I'm sure she would love to help out."
Angie looked between Alan and Jared; then stared at her quivering hands, all the while tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth. I'm out of excuses and I can't tell Alan about the nightmare.
She glanced at Jared. The muscle in his jaw worked as he stared, deep in thought, out the window, rubbing his palms against his knees.
"You can arrange to have someone run your businesses during the remodeling or I can take care of those details for you,” suggested Alan to Jared.
"I'll just inform my staff, they can handle things and I'll keep in touch by phone.” Jared lifted his leg, placing his ankle on top of the opposite knee, then laughed, “We can make phone calls, right?"
"Yes, you can make calls. You just can't leave the property during the renovation.” Alan smiled. “You know, Angie, it will be interesting to see if you have one of those dreams."
"What do you mean?” asked Jared.
Angie shook her head slightly to quiet Alan. Don't tell Jared about my dreams.
"Angie's known in these parts for having dreams that come true,” Alan told Jared.
Great. Just Great! She glared at Alan but he didn't even look her way.
"She can see in a dream what will happen in the future and she has seen the past too. I'm hoping, that after spending several weeks in the house, she will dream about Theodore Slayton.” Alan leaned back in his chair. “Then we'll know if his ghost indeed haunts the place. Local folk know about her dreams and would back up her predictions as true, thus making the Slayton Bed and Breakfast more intriguing to ghost hunting visitors."
"And do you believe her dreams come true?” Jared asked.
Geez! Now they are going to talk about me like I'm not even sitting in the room with them, thought Angie. God I hate this! Why did Alan have to bring it up?
"She doesn't flaunt her gift.” Alan's gaze settled on her and Angie gave him the hush look. “You still have a hard time accepting it, don't you?"
Without waiting for a response, he turned back to Jared. “She has helped many people by telling them about her—what did Martha call them? Oh yeah—prophetic dreams. She helped me, and now, my friend ... I'm a believer."
"What dreams of yours came true?” Jared asked with genuine interest.
"I just dream and sometimes it happens."
"Is there something in the dream that lets you know it will come true?” Jared pressed.
"I don't know what you mean,” she lied. Like I'd ever tell you about my observer dreams.
"Do you dream in color or see a symbol that let's you know this dream is different from a normal dream? A sign which means this dream will come true where another one without the sign wouldn't come true."
"Oh, I don't know...” No way would Jared Maxwell ever know that she watched the dream happen night after night until it came true. That was private. The only person she'd ever told was Aunt Martha. “There's not a sign. Some of them just come true, that's all."
"Hmm, you have a unique gift,” Jared said. “My sister, Terri, has a similar ability. It's hard for her to talk about her paranormal experiences too, but I bet the two of you will get along great."
Angie studied Jared and tried to figure out if he was teasing her or being truthful. He probably thought she was a freak now. People usually did when they found out about her dreams.
Well, it didn't matter what he thought of her anyway, and she doubted if she would ever meet his sister. What she knew for sure was she would never sleep under the same roof with him, especially since the horrific dream continued each and every night. And if the past had taught her anything, this would not end until the dream came true in life."
"I've drawn up all the necessary paperwork,” Alan said. “All you have to do is sign and we can start today. Both of you can move into the house tomorrow."
"I'm in,” said Jared.
"Great!"
Angie looked at the contracts Alan slid across the desk, one for each of them, and panicked.
"I'm sorry, Alan. I just can't do it,” she said, pushing the contract back toward him. I can't risk putting my life in jeopardy by living under the same roof with Jared Maxwell. After the episode in the hall her life wasn't the only thing at risk—her virginity was too!
"Why don't you just admit the truth, Angie,” taunted Jared as he looked over the contract. “You're just afraid to sleep in a haunted house—with me."
That's only the half of it. “Riiigght,” she said, drawing the word out in an attempt to appear unaffected by the whole situation. “Haunted houses. Why do you think I would I be afraid of staying there with you?"
"My dashing good looks?” Jared teased.
What an ego. “I am not afraid of you, Mr. Maxwell."
"Then prove it,” Jared grinned, signing his name across the bottom of his contract, and handing it back to Alan. “Take a risk, Angie. Or are you afraid of a ghost?"
"No, I'm not afraid of Casper. I just don't have to prove anything to either of you.” But, come to think of it, if she said yes but needed time away from him, she'd have five hundred acres at her disposal.
Alan sighed. “Angie, if you don't participate, I have to put the property up for auction and you'll lose The Variety Vine. Think of Martha and all the work you two put into that store."
And then Jared touched her ... again! He gently took her chin, trying to turn her toward him, but Angie resisted. He tried again and this time she looked over into those blue eyes.
"No, Angie, you don't have to prove anything to either of us. But prove it to yourself and don't lose your store. You've barely looked at me since our little fiasco in the hallway. I think you're worried that you wouldn't be able to handle yourself alone with me, away from the world, and you know it."
Angie pulled her chin from his grasp, surprised at Jared's boldness. Then, her anger at the unfairness of everything that had happened in the past three months caught up with her. She narrowed her eyes. “How dare you!"
"Listen you two,” Alan interrupted, “the renovation could be completed a week before the new convention center opens, if it's started immediately. We could book guest reservations beginning on September first, if we're on schedule. I know the deadlines are short and you will work long hours each day, but this way you could both meet the conditions of the clause over the summer and move on with your lives."
"You have to be kidding me, Alan.” Frustrated and angry, Angie grabbed his desk and leaned forward. “Do you honestly believe the house can be ready before the convention center opens? I just don't see it all comin
g together that fast."
"I'm game. I think we could do it,” Jared told Angie. “If you know how to work hard."
"Are you insinuating I'm not a hard worker, Mr. Maxwell?” How could this man be so overconfident?
"No, I wasn't insinuating anything. To be quite honest with you, I don't want to lose my property because you're afraid to commit."
Angie's knuckles whitened as she clenched the desk. How dare he? What an insufferable, arrogant man! Grinding her teeth together, she glared at Jared. Control, Angie. Do not let your temper get the better of you.
I'll show you ... thought Angie, looking between the two men. Dammit! I might be afraid, but I'll hide my fear from you, Mr. I—Wasn't—Insinuating—Anything, so you'll never know. I can handle anything you can dish out and I'll throw it right back at you, tenfold.
At least I hope I will.
It was a risk. A big risk that could put her in grave danger, especially after the warning Aunt Martha's ghost had given. But Angie knew she had to do it. She owed Aunt Martha that much. She couldn't lose her aunt's most prized possession just because she gave up before she'd even tried.
And maybe, if she agreed, she would actually be able to understand Jared's role in her dream. Had he saved her from the bullet or was he the one who stuck the gun in her back?
The mix of emotions that this man and this situation caused in her made her shake inside, made her temper flare. But instead of her usual angry outburst, Angie looked Jared straight in the eyes, accepting his challenge. Then, her gaze still locked with his, she took a deep breath, released the desk, extended her hand toward Alan, palm up.
"Give me the contract, Alan. Where do I sign?"
* * * *
Chapter 4
Angie decided she had to walk through her house just one more time before leaving. The last thing she needed was an electrical fire while she was away.
She put her bags down by the front door, and began to check the outlets. When she reached the kitchen, she found the coffeepot still plugged in. There. I knew I should double-check. She pulled the cord from the wall.