Huck was staring at the lawyer as if he’d suddenly grown hair. “The money part. Read that again.”
Billy glanced down. “An estate estimated at one point five million dollars.”
Jaxon felt like his jaw hit the floor. “Mama had one point five million?”
Billy nodded. “As of the writing of this will. Depending on the stock market and real estate values, it could be more or less than that.” He shuffled through the papers until he found what he was looking for. “At the writing of this will, your mother had close to a million in her investment fund, plus her completely paid for house and land. And those could be worth more than half a million, depending on the market when you sell them. Of course, y’all getting the money and property are contingent on the requirements of the will.”
“I’ll meet any requirements!” Huck jumped up and pumped a fist in the air before looking at Jaxon and Dawson, who sat there stunned. “We’re rich! As soon as I leave here, I’m heading to Lubbock to buy me a brand new Dodge Ram truck with all the bells and whistles and a pair of real ostrich leather boots and a?—”
Jaxon cut him off. “Sit down, Huck.” For once, his little brother did as he asked without arguing—probably because he was so busy thinking about everything he was going to buy. Jaxon turned to Billy. “What kind of requirements? And cut through all the legal jargon. Just give it to us straight.”
Billy leaned back in his chair. “You’ll only get everything if you return Honky Tonk Heaven to its former glory. Otherwise, the house, land, and all the money go to someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Billy lifted a sealed envelope. “Their name is in here. I’m only to open it if y’all don’t meet the requirements.”
Here was Mama’s punch line.
She knew how much the Hennessy kids hated Honky Tonk Heaven. Hated it for getting all her love and attention when all four of her kids went without. Hated it because they’d had to work their asses off in it when they got old enough to help out. Now, she was forcing those kids to make a choice.
Rebuild the bar they hated or lose a lot of money to some surprise recipient.
Jaxon could feel the veins throbbing at his temples. “So we reopen the bar or we don’t get the money?”
“In three months. You have to return the bar to its former glory in three months from today. And then you can’t sell it for a year.”
“So we’ll get money for the bar too?” Huck asked. When Billy nodded, he bellowed. “Damn, we will be rich!”
Jaxon wasn’t thinking about the money. “Three months to rebuild it when it’s nothing more than a pile of charcoal briquettes?”
Billy shrugged. “I mentioned that, but she was dead set on three months. She put aside the money she got from the insurance company after the fire. But seeing how construction prices have gone up quite a bit in the last eight years, I figure it won’t be enough. Which means if you spend over the amount she set aside, you’ll have to pay for the overtures out of your own pockets.
“What the fuck?” Dawson growled.
Billy got a scared look and held up his hands as if Dawson was going to jump over the desk and strangle him. Jaxon couldn’t blame him. His brother had been known to overreact.
“I didn’t make up the requirements,” Billy said. “I only legalized them. And I wouldn’t say the dancehall was a pile of briquettes. The outside walls are still standing. As is the steeple.”
And that was it.
When Jaxon had been there the other night, he’d been stunned to see all the damage the fire had done. He’d thought he’d feel vindicated standing in the rubble. As a kid, he’d prayed lightning would strike the building and burn it to the ground. Then maybe his mama would put her kids first for a change. Now he realized that even if lightning had struck earlier, nothing would have changed. Even on her deathbed, Rosie could only think about her beloved bar.
“So let me get this straight.” Dawson cut into Jaxon’s thoughts. “In order to get our mama’s money, we have to stay in this shithole town for three months and rebuild a gutted bar?”
Billy nodded. “And open it to the public.”
This time, it was Dawson who jumped to his feet. “Fuck that! I don’t need money that bad.” He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
There was a part of Jaxon that wanted to do the exact same thing. It would feel good, so damn good, to decline the offer and walk out the door with his hand raised to the sky, flipping his mama off.
But over a million dollars was hard to walk away from. Especially when he had dreams. Dreams that his share of the money would go a long way in helping him achieve. And it wasn’t like he would be rebuilding Honky Tonk Heaven for his mama. She was gone. Once the bar was up and running, they’d sell it and he’d be gone too.
But he couldn’t rebuild the bar alone. He’d need the help of his brothers . . . and his sister. Poppy had not only sung in bars all over Texas, she’d also worked at them to help make ends meet. Her knowledge of the bar world would be invaluable. As would Huck’s carpentry skills and Dawson’s brains. He was the smartest Hennessy. The one who had excelled at school. He could help keep the project as close to their budget as possible.
Wait. Was Jaxon really considering doing this?
Considering seemed to be the optimal word.
