Six weeks of planning, talking, working through mounds of documents, spending hours and hours in Sol’s conference room. Watching it take shape. Become real.
The summer ended. The girls and Liam and Zia’s sons were back in school. Routines were reset.
They met with Amos’s family, but not often. They occasionally spoke by phone with the others. The shadow of the empty barn was with them wherever they reached out. And it was too hard for Jenna and Noah not to say anything. Waiting was necessary. But so very hard just the same.
Distribution of Lane’s payment had never been discussed. By some silent accord, the others took their signal from Noah and Jenna. They waited.
The first Saturday after Labor Day, they met for dinner at Castaways, Miramar’s premier restaurant. The owner had recently taken what before had been a wine cellar and transformed it into a private dining alcove. Jenna and Noah arrived first. They had been spending more and more time together, moving gradually from two people who cared for each other to becoming a couple in love.
They greeted each of the arriving families, playing host and hostess for the evening. Sol came alone, apologizing for yet another emergency that required Rachel to stay at the hospital. Otherwise they were all present, including Liam and Zia’s boys and Aldana’s two daughters.
A brass chandelier dangled from the high ceiling. But most of the room’s illumination came from candles set in alcoves that lined three walls. The flagstone floor and carved shelving dated back to the nineteenth century, and glowed softly in the flickering light. Jenna and Noah directed everyone into place around the oval table, taking seats directly across from each other.
Trying not to smile.
Their waiter served champagne, soft drinks for the young ones. Then a first course of grilled California artichokes with Serrano ham. Gradually the room’s atmosphere brightened. When laughter encircled the table, Jenna said, “I think it’s time.”
“You do it,” Noah said.
“Are you sure?”
He signaled the waiter, asked that they not be disturbed, then told Jenna, “Please.”
“All right.” To the table, “We have some news.”
Aldana clapped her hands. “You’re engaged! I told Amos it had to be something special.”
“It’s not that,” Jenna said, watching the man seated across from her. “Not yet.”
Noah pretended to swoon. “My poor heart just went pitter-pat.”
Aldana said, “Then what is it?”
“Let the lady speak,” Amos said. “Maybe we’ll find out.”
Jenna turned to Sol. “The envelopes, if you please.”
“My sincere pleasure.” He passed out three buff folders.
“There are quite a few papers for you to sign,” Jenna said. “But the one thing on top can’t wait.”
They pulled out the documents, gaped at what was paper-clipped on top.
Three checks.
A hundred and twelve thousand, five hundred dollars. Each. Five percent of the total sales price.
“Sol is coming in as our partner,” Jenna said. “Which means your share of the sale is now free and clear.”
Zia said, “So . . . We’re not getting a new boat?”
“The lady just said Sol is partnering with us,” Amos told him. “What do you think that’s all about?”
“Tell you the truth, I’m trying to pick myself off the floor.”
“We’re setting up a trust,” Jenna said. “The trust will serve as the new boat’s owner. Those papers represent your joint ownership of the trust.”
“Sol has been very generous,” Noah said. “His participation means we can share the wealth. And still buy a boat.”
