She twisted her lips. “He’s at work, Mr. Goodall. Can I pass it along?” She pulled out her phone and shot off a text to Cash. He didn’t answer, and she put her phone back in the front pocket of her coveralls.
“Did he tell you about the will?” he hedged.
She nodded.
He pulled a neckerchief out of his pocket and mopped it across his forehead. “I made a mistake. It was unintentional, I assure you.”
She had Jell-O to get to, and he kept hedging. “He’s a big boy, Mr. Goodall. Just lay it out and I’ll give him the information.”
He drew a deep breath. “His granddaddy’s will stipulated that he had six weeks to take possession of the property.”
“Right.” She wanted to grab him and shake the info free from his lips.
“I calculated the six weeks from the time of the reading. But … it was from the time of Mr. Diamante’s death.”
Her blood ran cold. “Mr. Goodall, didn’t you write the will?”
He nodded. “I did. But … well, in many things in law, it’s all in the wording, and I had a man come in who pointed out the inconsistency in my paragraph. I’m just sick about it.” He wiped at his sideburn, where moisture dripped. “Just sick.” His hands shook.
Her heart went out to him. He wasn’t the bad guy in all this. But she had a good idea who was. “Did the man happen to be named Mark Murdock?”
He gulped and nodded.
“I see.” She let out a gusty breath, one that came when a person was hit in the chest. Turning, she stared up at the house. This beautiful, old, historical, familial building that breathed family dinners and Christmas mornings. With all the changes they’d made before, picturing the building in all its glory was no longer a chore. Sure, there were stacks of lumber on the porch and a tarp over the siding on the east where they were doing some electrical work, but the potential Cash saw before the rest of them was now easily seen by all. “What exactly does this mean, Mr. Goodall?”
The sound of him swallowing behind her was loud and ominous. “He has ten days to finish.”
She whirled around. “Tendays?”
“There were many things to take care of after Mr. Diamante passed on. It took time. I truly am sorry.”
Maggie clenched her hands. “Ten days. The mold guys won’t be gone for another seven. That gives him three to finish. Three days to do months of work.” She pressed her hand to her forehead.
Cash had been halfway through several projects when they’d been shut down. The bathrooms … Now the plumbing overhaul … Maybe if that was all he had to do, they’d be okay. But there was all the trim work. He’d shown her pictures of what he had planned—they were stunning—and would take time. Staining the trim would take a week by itself.
His only hope was if she got started on it now.
Mr. Goodall rubbed his lips together. “I’ll send Cash an email tomorrow. Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so.” She bit back all the mean things that came to mind. Another man’s mistake could cost them everything. Not just the house.
Everything.
Their marriage agreement was tied up in all this. Sure, they’d said they were going to give being a couple a try, but they’d said that was while they lived together. They’d had a plan. And she was banking on the time it would take to restore the house to determine her heart. Forgiveness didn’t come easy—even when Cash had apologized. It was like the pain he’d caused back then made her heart shy. Coaxing it out of its shell was a process. One that they’d had little time to work on together.
“Good day, Mrs. Diamante.”
“Good day,” she mumbled distractedly.
Cash’s crew had been able to get a whole kitchen done in two weeks. Maybe if he didn’t have to worry about all the tasks and could focus on the hard things, he’d be able to finish in time. What he needed was another crew. One that would work on finishing touches.
She walked up the porch and looked at all the trim that needed to be stained before it could be installed. If it was ready to go, then the installation would be that much faster. This was doable. Right here. Right now. She could lay the boards out on the wraparound porch; Cash planned to replace the floorboards out here anyway.
Checking her phone, and seeing that he hadn’t replied to her text, she set to work—the need to do something to help solve the problem pushing her as strongly as a hand on her back.
Chapter 20
Cash drove down the tree-lined bouncy road to his house. What a day. The Hansens’ oldest boy had tipped over a whole bucket of sheetrock mud. That was fixable, but then their lab had run through, barking at his guys and kicking mud everywhere before breaking through the plastic barrier and tracking mud through the kitchen, front room, and entryway before their youngest opened the front door and the dog ran out.
