by Frank, Ella
“Yeah? Well, Jameson’s got a big mouth.”
Brianna smirked. “Does he? Maybe I’ll have to take a closer look.”
“Not on your life.” Justin rubbed his forehead. “Now stop talking.”
Brianna chuckled and then looked at me. “Did you end up finding Wilhelmina’s last night?”
“You’re staying at Willa’s?” Ryan asked.
“He isss,” Brianna said. “Guess who told him about it? Laurel.”
I looked between the two of them with a frown. “She was hosting Harry’s wake—she was kind of hard to avoid.”
Brianna’s dark eyes all but twinkled. “Mhmm, sure.”
“Okay, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking right now. I ran into her and asked where a good place to stay was. I can’t believe that bed and breakfast is that old, broken-down, creepy place. It looks amazing.”
Ryan nodded. “Willa did a great job.”
“She said you did most of it.”
“No way. It was a joint effort. She needed the help.”
“Five years’ worth, apparently.”
Brianna snorted at my comment, and Justin decided to chime in. “What’d you two do all night, talk and give each other a manicure?”
“No,” I replied. “We met when I was checking in. I think she was trying to be friendly and make me feel welcome.”
“Or she was checking you out, since she’s Laurel’s best friend and she’s heard rumors that you’re an asshole.”
Okay, I didn’t know that. But before that could even compute, I backtracked to his last comment. “Rumors?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Justin shoved to his feet and pushed a hand through his hair. “Does it always have to be about you? So you’re back, you saw your ex—which, by the way, you must be kicking yourself over for leaving, because Laurel is hot—and now you want to know what’s been said about you since you’ve been gone? Who cares? You left when you were a teenager and now you’re older and wear preppy suits. Get over yourself.”
Ryan stepped between the two of us about to try to calm things down, but Mom stepped out of the room she’d disappeared into earlier and looked at the four of us. “Is there something the matter out here?”
Brianna quickly got to her feet and stepped in front of us, shaking her head. “No. We were all just chatting about how good it is to have Noah back.”
“No we weren’t,” Justin said.
“I’m not back,” I said.
Brianna aimed a death glare over her shoulder at us, and it was so effective that I felt it in my bones. For a seventeen-year-old, she sure had no problem standing up to two grown-ass men—not that we were acting like it.
“Well, if you’re done, they’re ready for us,” Mom said.
I wasn’t sure what it was about her clipped tone, but the second I heard it, I immediately felt like a teenager again.
We headed into the room she indicated, and in the center was a large conference table. At the head was a balding man in a brown tweed coat who had a slew of paperwork in front of him, and off to his left sat a red-headed woman dressed in a prim black blouse. She had a matching pair of glasses that sat perched on her nose, and as we walked in and took our seats, they looked up from their paperwork to see who had just joined them.
“Welcome, welcome,” the man said as he half stood to greet us. “Please sit wherever you like.”
Not surprisingly, Justin moved to the opposite side of the table to Ryan and myself, and, seeming to want to keep the peace, Brianna went with him. When Mom took a seat at the far end of the table, the man took a quick look around and offered up what could only be called a grim smile.
That didn’t bode well. Not considering what we were all here for. I looked at Ryan and shook my head. I had a feeling that whatever was about to happen was going to be typical Harry. And by that, I mean fucked up in every way possible.
“Let me start by introducing the two of us. I’m John Ackerman, and this is Abigail Fairmont. I am your mother and father’s attorney, and Abigail here is their accountant. We’ve been working with them for nearly ten years now on both business and personal matters, and today we’ve brought you all together, as instructed by Harry for when he passed away.”
“Okay,” Justin said, looking at Mom. “We’re all here, even the missing son over there. So now what?”
“Justin, please,” she said, and reached out to pat his arm. “Have a little patience. We have some paperwork we need go through, and then this will all be over.”
“It’s actually a little bit more than that,” John said, and that gnawing feeling in my gut turned into a sharp knife twisting through my insides. “Harry, your husband and their father, made some changes in the last couple of months of his life.”
Mom sat up a little straighter and drew her hands back from the table to clutch at her purse. “What kind of changes?”
John looked at the paperwork in front of himself and flicked through several pages. “Some…stipulations to the first draft he drew up with you.”
“Stipulations?” Brianna said. “What does that mean? I thought everything automatically went to Mom.”
John smiled, but it was a tight, tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, his personal assets were all left to your mother. However, the business—”
“He divided up between the four of you.”
At the sound of Mom’s voice, I turned in my seat to make sure I hadn’t misheard her. But no, she seemed very confident in her wording, and when her eyes found mine, I shook my head.
“Why would he do that? The winery is as much your place as it is his. You’re alive—it should automatically go to you.”
“Noah—”
“No. This is such bullshit. Even from the grave he’s disrespecting you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It is like that. But you know what, it doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t want it. I’ll just sign my deed over to you.”
Mom opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, John cleared his throat.
“There something you want to say?” I asked.
“Actually, yes. Like I was saying before, there’s some new provisions added to details of Harry’s will. Some requirements that need to be met before the deeds are handed over.”
“Of course there is.” I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, wondering when the day would come that Harry would stop pulling the puppet strings.
“Requirements?” Ryan said, when it was clear I’d run out of patience for this shit. Here I’d thought it would be fuck you, you get nothing, Noah, and then we’d be done. Apparently not.
“Yes. I can start with the oldest and work my way down if you like?”
“Lucky me,” I said.
Justin smirked, and I wasn’t sure if it was in response to my words or my suffering.
“I assume you’re Noah,” John said, looking in my direction.
“You assume right.”
“Very good. Let’s get to this, then. I, Harry Chamberlin, of sound mind and body, hereby bequeath all my personal assets to my wife, Emily Rebecca Chamberlin. This includes our home and our personal investments. The family business, Chamberlin Winery, is to be divided between our children.”
What the hell had Harry been thinking? Clearly, he hadn’t been. But before I could voice my opinion on that, John kept talking.
“My eldest son, Noah Harry Chamberlin, will receive the deed to his portion of the property one year after he has lived and worked as the new CEO of Chamberlin Winery, at which time he can sell, give away, or keep the property for himself. If he chooses to leave and disregards these wishes, his portion of the vineyard and any money procured from it will be signed over to the town that his forefathers founded.”
“What? Wait a fucking minute. Are you serious with this shit? I live in Italy. I have a business there.”
“Sorry,” John said as he looked up from his papers. “That’s
what it says.”
“So I can’t sign it over to Mom?”
“Unfortunately, no. If you leave, the will states that your part of the business will be signed over to the town.”
“Can you believe this?” I said, as I looked down the table to where Mom sat with a stoic expression on her face.
“If this is what your father wanted, then—”
“Fuck that.”
Mom’s eyes widened.
“We’ve all been doing what he wanted for years. That’s the reason I left. There’s no way I’m going to let him pull this shit now.”
“Oh yeah?” A low laugh came from across the table, and when I cut my eyes to Justin, a smug smile curved his lips. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
“You know, I wouldn’t be feeling too superior if I were you. Your terms haven’t been read yet.”
“What’s the worst he could do? Restrict me to town? Oh no.”
“And are you Ryan or Justin?” John said.
“Justin.”
“It states here: to my youngest son, Justin Marcus Chamberlin, fellow co-owner of Chamberlin Winery, I bequeath any profits that come from his share. He may collect his allowance from the new CEO—Noah Harry Chamberlin—and family accountant Abigail Fairmont once a month.”
“Hang on, Noah is in charge of my fucking money?”
It was my turn to look smug. “Not laughing so hard now, are we?”
Justin clenched his teeth as he glared at poor John, who seemed worried we were about to launch ourselves at one another across the table. “Technically, Abigail will be looking after the money, but yes, Noah will have to sign off on it.”
“Fucking bullshit,” Justin said, shaking his head. “What else does it say?”
“That the deed to your portion of the business will be signed over to you after you work a year at the winery in some capacity.”
Justin swiveled in his chair to face Mom. “Are you really trying to say you didn’t know about this? You’ve been trying to get me to work there for years.”
“Justin,” Ryan said. “Stop it.”
Justin shook his head, his annoyance riding him almost as hard as mine was. But I was too busy trying to work out my own problems to think about what his were.
This was so like Harry. Issuing ultimatums even from the fucking grave. I wasn’t about to move to Chamberlin for a year, though. God, he was such an asshole. But then again, what else was new?
“No, I want to know.” Justin’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts and back into reality.
“Knock it off, Justin,” I said.
“I didn’t know anything about this.” Mom’s voice was eerily calm as she looked between the four of us. “The last I heard, he was going to leave the business to the four of you. That’s all I knew. I didn’t know it came with a set of conditions.”
Justin slumped back in his seat. “Why am I being treated like some kind of kid? Do Brianna and Ryan have to go to Noah and Moneypenny over there?”
I could’ve sworn the accountant’s spine stiffened at the nickname. But she remained silent.
John was looking back down at the paper. “Brianna, is it?”
Brianna nodded, then looked to Ryan and me with what I could only describe as fear in her eyes.
“Let’s see here. To my daughter, Brianna Emily Chamberlin, fellow co-owner of Chamberlin Winery, I bequeath any profits that come from her share. She may access her trust fund from the new CEO—Noah Harry Chamberlin—and family accountant Abigail Fairmont after she completes college.”
Brianna rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you all get your money now, but I have to wait until I finish college. How did I know that was coming?”
“I’m sure it’s just a wait until you’re older kind of thing,” I said. “That’s a lot of money, Bree.”
“Are you trying to say she wouldn’t know how to look after it?” Of course Justin had an opinion on that.
“No. I’m just saying it’s a lot of money for someone her age.”
“What do you know about her? She’s extremely responsible.”
“Says the one who has to have his money issued to him by me and the family accountant.”
“Fuck you, Noah.”
“Just stating the facts.”
“Yeah, well, it seems you’re in charge of all of us. Kind of ironic, since you’re the one who left us.”
“I didn’t leave. I was told to fucking go. And he hasn’t read Ryan’s yet, so why don’t you shut your mouth?”
All of us looked to Ryan, who shrugged. “I don’t care what it says, as long as I get to keep my job.”
John nodded, clearly as ready for this to be as over with as we were.
“To Ryan Chamberlin I leave the cabin up on the west hill, and the job title and wage of vineyard manager. The deed for the cabin will be signed over to him immediately upon my death.”
Mom made a sound from the far end of the table, and when we all turned her way, her hand was over her mouth.
“Mom?” Ryan was on his feet and over to her in a second. “What is it?”
“He didn’t leave you any money, man.” Justin looked back to John. “I heard that right, yeah? There was no co-ownership or profit talk? No stipulations mentioned in there.”
“No. Just the cabin and his job.”
“Okay, that’s fucked,” Justin said. “That place is a woodpile.”
Ryan squeezed Mom’s shoulder, trying to calm her. “I love that place. He knew that. It means more to me than money.”
Mom looked up at Ryan and shook her head. “No, it’s not right. You work so hard on the property. You should get your share. We can fix it.”
“It’s fine, Mom. This is the way he wanted it.”
She looked to John, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Mrs. Chamberlin, I understand this is quite a change from the original will and testament that Harry drew up regarding the business, but his personal wishes have not changed. All personal assets and investments will go directly to you to do with as you please. We can go into the nitty-gritty later if you like—”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded. “I think that would be best. We all need some time to…process.”
“Very well. Unless anyone has any questions, that’s all.”
That was all? It was amazing how he said that as though he hadn’t—or should I say, Harry hadn’t—just screwed us all over in some form or another. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as we all sat there trying to digest what we’d just learned.
It was blackmail, pure and simple. Harry was blackmailing us all in one way or another, and the underlying threat was the loss of the family business. It was bullshit.
I reached for my collar and pulled at it, suddenly feeling as though it might strangle me. I needed to get out of there. I needed space. Fresh air. I needed to think about what the hell I could do to get out of this clusterfuck.
I shoved back from the table and got to my feet.
“Noah?” Mom said. “Where are you going?”
“I need to… I have to think about this.”
“What is there to think about?” Justin said. “You’re not going anywhere, brother.”
“Justin…” Brianna said softly, but Justin just shrugged.
Ignoring him, I said to Mom, “I’ll come by the winery later, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice was steady but the worry in her eyes was evident. Unfortunately, I didn’t have it in me to offer any words of comfort. Hell, I didn’t even have any for myself.
I stormed out of the courthouse in a haze of fury, my head spinning at the implications of what Harry had just done, and as I made my way down the stairs, I ran smack bang into someone on the sidewalk.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for the innocent bystander, but when my eyes locked on who it was, all of the anger, all of the rage at being trapped in this town, dissipated in an instant.
“Laurel?”
8
&n
bsp; Laurel
WHAT PACKS A stronger punch than Miss Betty’s coffee on a Monday morning? Running headfirst into the wall of solid muscle known as Noah Chamberlin.
As the books in my arms fell to the ground, I cursed and watched them scatter at my feet. I’d taken the morning to visit the library, since Emily had shut the winery to the public today to take care of matters regarding her and Harry’s private affairs. I had a little while until she expected the staff to arrive for a meeting involving some changes to the business, and I’d planned to spend it having said coffee and reading one of the books I’d just borrowed. Now it seemed I’d be nursing a headache instead.
“Laurel?”
“That’d be me,” I said, and flashed a grimace his way as I crouched down to pick up my books.
Noah immediately moved to help, reaching for the one that had fallen by his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s okay, honestly. I’m fine.” I stacked my books, and when he held the last one out to me and I went to reach for it, he didn’t let go.
I glanced up, and when our eyes met, he grinned. “Still a big reader, I see.”
“Some things never change.”
“No, they don’t. But sometimes they do, and the result is”—Noah’s eyes roved over my face as his thumb brushed up alongside mine—“stunning, to say the least.”
A shiver raced up my spine at the contact, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to pleasure or my flight response kicking in. Either way, I needed to get away from him. Now.
I tightened my fingers around the book, and when I tugged on it, he let go. I quickly got to my feet, and as he slowly straightened, I tucked my hair behind my ear.
“I should go,” I said, moving around him to do just that.
I was about three steps away when I heard him call out my name, and despite everything inside me telling me to keep going, I stopped and looked back to see him walking my way.
“Have coffee with me.”
The request was so out of the blue that I didn’t even know what to say. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Noah in forever, and coffee seemed so…familiar. I made a show of looking at my watch, but before I could speak, Noah jumped in.