The Best Gift. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ Seth said. “Morgan, you have the right to turn down the bequest, of course. But I would advise you to get some legal and financial counsel first. Jo bought that property years ago, when Seaside was just a quiet, backwater village. The area is now a bustling tourist mecca. So her property has increased significantly in value. As for how to meet your aunt’s residence stipulation—I’m afraid I can’t advise you on that. Good Shepherd is a summer camp in Maine for children from troubled homes. Your aunt has been involved with the organization for many years.

      “Clare, Dr. Wright is an old friend of Jo’s from St. Louis. I believe she met him through her church, and even when he moved to North Carolina, they remained close friends. He’s a widower with an eleven-year-old daughter who apparently needs guidance and closer supervision. As to why Jo thought Dr. Wright would be interested in having you as a nanny, I can’t say.

      “A.J., I’d ask you to give me a couple of weeks to tie up some legalities before you contact Mr. Sullivan. I’ll let you know when it’s appropriate to call.”

      He paused and glanced at his desk calendar. “Let’s officially start the clock for the six-month period on December 1. That will give you about a month to make plans. Now, are there any more general questions?”

      The three women looked at him, looked at each other, then silently shook their heads.

      “Very well.” He handed them each a manila envelope. “But do feel free to call if any come up as you review the will more thoroughly.” He rose, signaling the end of the meeting, and extended his hand to each sister in turn. “Again, my condolences on the death of your great-aunt. Jo had a positive impact on countless lives and will be missed by many people. I know she loved each of you very much, and that she wanted you to succeed in claiming your bequests.

      “Good luck, ladies.”

      Chapter One

      It wasn’t fair.

      Blake Sullivan stared at the letter from Seth Mitchell. How could Jo do this to him? Okay, so maybe she’d never actually promised to leave the entire business to him, but she had certainly implied as much. After all, they’d been friends for twenty-one years. And he’d walked away from a successful career in investment banking three years ago to rescue Turning Leaves, when Jo’s waning energy began to affect the business and her ongoing generosity had finally depleted her financial cushion. He’d enjoyed it so much that he’d stayed to turn the sleepy, neighborhood bookshop into a thriving enterprise. Without him, the business would have been bankrupt by now.

      And what was his reward for three years of diligent labor on her behalf? She’d left half the business to her flighty, do-gooder great-niece who probably didn’t know the difference between a balance sheet and a balance beam.

      Blake felt his blood pressure edge up and forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. Getting worked up about the situation wasn’t going to change it, he reminded himself. Maybe if he and Jo had had more time to discuss it, things would have turned out differently. But the fast-acting cancer that had struck so suddenly and taken her so quickly had left them little time for business discussions. By the time she’d told anyone about her illness, it was far too late to discuss any succession plans.

      Blake fingered the letter from her attorney, a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could just walk away, of course. Let the business disintegrate in the hands of Jo’s inexperienced and probably disinterested heir. But he’d poured too much of himself into the bookshop, cared too much about it to let it die.

      Which left him only one option.

      And that did not make him happy.

      Blake watched the caller ID disappear as the line went dead. Jo’s niece again. He couldn’t avoid her forever, but he needed more time to think things through. Especially since he’d received Jo’s brief, enigmatic letter, which had arrived a couple of days after Seth Mitchell’s.

      He lifted it from the kitchen counter as he waited for the microwave to reheat the cannelloni from his favorite restaurant on The Hill—a splurge that would wreak havoc with his well-disciplined diet, especially with the Thanksgiving Day triathlon looming on the horizon. But he’d needed a pick-me-up after the news from Seth.

      Blake scanned the single sheet of paper once more.

      Dear Blake, I know you will be disappointed by my bequest. Please understand that I fully appreciate all you have done these past three years to make Turning Leaves successful, and that my gratitude goes deeper than I can say. I have valued our friendship and our partnership, and one of my great joys has been to watch you grow into a fine man.

      At the same time, I feel a special obligation to my nieces. A.J. needs an anchor in her life, and I am hopeful that Turning Leaves will provide that for her. She has been drifting these past few years, for reasons that even she may not fully comprehend, but which you may eventually come to understand. I would consider it a final favor for an old friend if you would help her learn the business we both love. With great affection, Jo.

      The beeper went off on the microwave, and Blake retrieved the cannelloni. He didn’t understand some of Jo’s comments, but he did understand the part about the final favor. And as rational thought had prevailed over the past couple of days, he’d come to acknowledge that as much as he’d done for Jo these past three years, it was he who was deeply in her debt.

      As he poured a soft drink, he thought back to the summer when he was thirteen. It was a couple of years after Jo’s husband died, and she had just opened her shop. Pure chance brought them together. Or fate. Or maybe Providence, if one were religiously inclined. But whatever it was, it had changed his life.

      Blake’s parents had decided to spend the summer in St. Louis, for reasons Blake couldn’t recall. They were always going somewhere on a whim, for a rally or to hang out with friends or simply for a change of scene. Jo had hired his father to do some carpentry and odd jobs at the shop. Blake hadn’t known anyone in St. Louis, and after thirteen years he’d learned that it didn’t pay to try to make friends in a new town, because in a few weeks or a few months his vagabond parents would be on the road again. So he’d simply tagged along with his father to Jo’s. And those had been some of his happiest days.

      Jo had taken him under her wing, giving him odd jobs to do and regaling him with stories of her world travels and the exotic places she and her husband had visited. She’d discussed politics with him, and philosophy, as if he were an adult, which did wonders for his shaky thirteen-year-old self-esteem. He owed his love of learning and books to Jo. And so much more. Something about him must have made an impact on her as well, because she’d stayed in touch with him when his family moved on at the end of the summer. He still had her letters tucked in a shoe box in his closet. During his teenage years, she was the one stable person in his unsettled, unpredictable world, and he clung to her voraciously, sharing with her his fears and his hopes. She’d always encouraged him, and when it came time for college, she’d come through for him again, providing a significant amount of the funding for his education.

      So even though he’d rescued Turning Leaves, his efforts were small repayment for all she’d been to him. Friend. Confidante. Supporter. Benefactor. And now she had one last request. Help her great-niece learn the business.

      How could he say no?

      “Blake, A. J. Williams is on the phone for you.”

      Blake frowned and transferred his gaze from the computer screen to the flickering phone light.

      “Bad time? Should СКАЧАТЬ