“What novels?” I frowned. I worked in a bookstore; shouldn’t I have known if my aunt had written something?
McMillan winced. “The Anneliese Harris novels.”
The mug clattered onto the worn floorboards and the coffee splashed all over.
“Y-you’re saying that Lake’s Aunt Ruth is Anneliese Harris?” River asked. “The woman whose books constantly top the bestseller lists? Who just sold a series to Netflix?”
“Yes.” McMillan sighed wearily. “Look, Ruth never wanted the fame, which is exactly why nobody knew who she really was. She loved writing and horses, and those novels were just a hobby at first. Then…”
“Then things took off after the third one and she published a total of nine in the last fifteen years,” my voice came out in a monotone of shock. “I work at a bookstore, I…”
“Only certain people she trusted knew. There was no way for you to know.”
“So those rights are Lake’s now?” River asked, frowning. “And the rescue?”
“Well, the rights are Lake’s fair and square, but there are caveats to the rescue.”
“And what would those be?” I managed, my mind scrambling in the dark for something to grasp onto.
“Well for one, she had a couple of staff. She works—worked—with several other rescues and organizations. It was her passion, rehabilitating horses, and sometimes other animals, too. Severe neglect and abuse cases were hard for her to deal with, but she did anyway,” McMillan said in a tone filled with sadness and admiration, both.
I cleared my throat. “And…?”
A shadow moved in the corner of my vision, and McMillan startled. I wasn’t sure who was more spooked, the attorney or the teenager who’d slinked into the room with a rag in hand.
“I’ll just…” Rey whispered, then dropped to his knees to take care of the coffee and the mug.
“This is Rey, he’s a friend who lives with us.” River’s tone suggested McMillan better not ask any questions or pay attention to the kid or else.
“All right,” McMillan said, quickly reading the situation and averted his gaze from the skinny teen wiping the floor in a meticulous, almost frantic manner.
“So, the rescue…?” River prompted.
“Right. Ruth’s best friend, Theo, is the foreman.” McMillan did the wincing thing again. The man had tells out the wazoo, I hoped he didn’t play poker. “Ruth promised Theo a job for the rest of his life.”
I still wasn’t seeing the problem. “And that’s an issue because…?”
“She wants you to run the rescue in her place, with Theo. If you do that, everything goes to you. You’ll sign papers that state Theo has his job for the rest of his life, and even when he retires, he gets to live in his cabin on the property if he so chooses.”
I nodded. “If I don’t want to run the rescue?”
“If you choose to sell it instead, then two thirds of the money left after everything is settled goes to Theo instead.”
“But not the book stuff?” River clarified.
“No, that has nothing to do with the rest.”
“What’s the rescue valued at?” Rey asked, wincing when everyone focused on him at once.
“The current estimate of the property is two point five million dollars.”
I choked. “W-what?”
“Your aunt put a lot of money into the property over the last twenty years. When the book thing took off, she made changes with some of that money, too, and well, that’s what it’s estimated at right now.”
“That’s a lot of money.” I blinked a few times. “Even if this Theo gets two thirds, that’s still the book rights and what, over eight hundred thousand dollars?”
“Exactly. But there’s one more caveat: You can’t sell the rescue unless you have spent at least three months living on the farm, working with Theo to the best of your ability. She wanted you to see what she saw in that place before you decide.”
