I don’t know a thing about running an antiques shop.
In Wicks Hollow?
But nonetheless, her insides fluttered. Then, just as quickly, her stomach squeezed alarmingly, and she felt sick.
Holy crap, she was going to be abusiness-owner.
A life without vacations, without sleep, without freedom flashed before her eyes.
“How…generous,” she managed to say when she realized everyone was staring at her.
When no one looked away, she gathered her composure and lifted her gaze to H. Gideon. “Is there anything else?” she asked.
“There is nothing more,” he replied coolly, adding the paper to a stack that sat off to the left. But, thankfully, he reclaimed the attention of the others by asking, “Does anyone have any questions? I’d be happy to meet with each of you on an individual basis to clarify any of the points in this document.”
No one had any questions—at least none they were willing to ask in the presence of the other heirs—but everyone wanted to schedule time with the attorney to finalize the paperwork.
Fiona sat in her chair, cautiously observing the others. She wondered who in the room had expected to inherit the shop—and whether there would be any hard feelings that she had usurped someone else’s bequest.
The last thing I need is to be dumped into the middle of some crazy family competition.
“Congratulations, Ms. Murphy.”
The deep male voice caused Fiona to look up as she wrestled her bag onto her lap. “Thank you,” she smiled, holding out her hand as she stood. “You’re Bradley Forth?”
His handshake was brief but his smile lingered. “Yes, of course. Call me Brad, please. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself before the proceedings started.”
“I was late, so you wouldn’t have had the chance anyway.” Fiona remained polite, but she began to ease her way from the table, intending to make her way out of the room. “Now, tell me, how are you related to Mr. Valente? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch everything that was in the will.”
“I’m the old man’s grand-nephew—my mother’s brother was his grandson.” He looked as though he would have said more, but H. Gideon approached them.
“Let me get you both on my schedule for next week,” suggested the attorney, “so that we can get some of this paperwork taken care of.”
“If you could have your secretary call mine, that would probably be the most efficient way,” responded Brad pompously. “I believe you have my card?”
“Myschedule is perfectly clear, H.—er, Mr. Nath,” Fiona said brightly.
Because she just realizedshe could quit her job.
They’d be devastated at Thurston & Mills, but oh well. She was going to be a business owner. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed hard.Oh God.
“How about Tuesday at four, Ms. Murphy?” H. Gideon said, looking at Claire, who had slipped up behind them and was madly tapping on an iPad. “Claire?”
The admin paused to nod, then went back to tapping. “Yes, Mr. Nath, four on Tuesday works, now that your golf league is over.”
He nodded again, and Fiona hooked her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you, and I’ll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Forth. Good-bye.”
* * *
The first thing Fiona did Saturday morning was to make the drive—which was less than an hour along the shore of Lake Michigan—from Grand Rapids to Wicks Hollow.
Since her brother Ethan had bought a log cabin on Wicks Lake, she’d visited the touristy town several times over the last few years. Though she didn’t know all the residents as well as he did, she’d gotten to know Maxine Took, the town’s self-appointed matriarch, and her partner-in-crime (for lack of a better term), Juanita Acerita.
The town itself was nested inside a handful of rolling hills less than two miles east of the Lake Michigan shoreline. The ring of hills reminded Fiona of a large hand that protected the collection of houses, shops, and winding streets by holding them in its palm. From what she understood, Wicks Hollow’s population was normally about two thousand. Over the summer, however, and in the early autumn, tourists packed the little village and swelled its number to more than twice that.
It was early September now, so the tourists with schoolchildren had gone. This cleared the way for a smaller wave of visitors—what the locals called “the newly-weds and the nearly-deads”: honeymooners and senior citizens, who could travel during this off-season and into the Fall Color period, which stretched from late September to mid-October.
From the first time she saw Wicks Hollow, Fiona had been charmed by the treelined streets of mansions built in the late 1890s and early 1900s. Called “painted ladies” for their elegant shapes, ornate trim, and bright colors, the houses lined the streets displaying all the gables, towers, and garrets characteristic of that era. Most were painted in bright colors: cerulean, lime green, purple and violet, and complementary shades of yellow, gold, and pink. Their yards were small, manicured patches of green shaded by mature trees and edged by sweeping landscapes of geranium, hosta, boxwood, and other nursery staples.
