But she would never seriously consider living in it. She had a life to get back to in Chicago.
Probably.
Oh, of course she did. Surely Diego hadn’t been serious when he’d fired her. And he couldn’t really fire her. Not outright anyway. She was a minority owner in the place, after all. Just because he’d told her if she left not to come back. Just because she’d dumped a vat of cold potato soup in his lap on her way out the door. She could be volatile, but so could he. It wasn’t the first time one of them had used food to emphasize a point, and it wouldn’t be the last. Even if they didn’t share a passion for each other any longer, they still shared a passion for their work and a passion to make Finale’s one of the best restaurants in Chicago. That’s why they made such a good team. Unfortunately, he held a controlling interest, and that put her at a disadvantage.
But back to the matter at hand. As far as she was concerned Cousin Beulah could continue to live in the house if that’s what she wanted. Maybe rent out a room if she needed help around the place.
Or maybe Belle would consider moving back to Everson. It would provide a stable home for eight-year-old Daphne. Everson would be a great town to raise a child. And a stable home was something her niece hadn’t known from the day she’d been born. They certainly had a lot to discuss. She glanced at Donny Joe. Why was he here again? The will hadn’t said a word about him. She looked at Mr. Starling expectantly.
“You said there were provisions that concerned Donny Joe, Mr. Starling. I don’t understand.”
Mr. Starling cleared his throat again and picked up another file. This one was two inches thick. He opened it carefully and sighed. “As I said, your grandmother’s will was written over three years ago. Since then circumstances have changed.”
“In what way?” Belle asked, glancing up from her phone.
“Over the last few years your grandmother has struggled some to make ends meet, and to put it simply, the house is no longer hers alone to bequeath.”
Etta scooted forward to the edge of her chair again. “What do you mean? Of course it’s hers. And she would have told me if she was having problems.”
“Well, why don’t you explain, Donny Joe?”
She turned her head slowly, taking in the tall man sitting beside her.
He wasn’t smiling anymore, and he seemed all business now. “Your grandmother approached me about turning her house into a money-making venture to offset some of her expenses. A bed and breakfast, to be exact. You may have noticed some of the renovations that have already taken place.”
Actually she had noticed a few things, but thought her grandmother had gone off on one of her many remodeling kicks. She was always repainting the walls and changing the drapes. “A bed and breakfast? Was this her idea or yours, Mr. Ledbetter? I assume you have some financial interest in this project? That must be the reason you’re here this morning.” Etta jumped to her feet, outrage fueling her words. As far as she was concerned he was the lowest form of dirt—a dirty, low-down, sleazy, cheating scumbag who’d taken advantage of her sweet grandmother’s trust.
Mr. Starling stood up. “Ms. Green, let me assure you that this was your grandmother’s idea, but yes, at this point Donny Joe has made a substantial investment that can’t be recovered if the work isn’t completed. Your grandmother’s greatest fear was that she’d lose the family home altogether, and now with her untimely death everything is up in the air unless you two are willing to follow through with her wishes.”
Etta glanced at Belle, who seemed bored by the whole proceeding, and then turned back to the two men. “So,” she asked tightly, “what’s the bottom line here? Where does that leave us?”
“It means Donny Joe is already part owner of your grandmother’s house. And if any of the construction contracts currently in place aren’t honored by you and your sister, he will own it all.”
Chapter Two
I say, let him have it.” Belle flounced up the porch steps of their grandmother’s house and dropped into the old wooden porch swing.
“I say, over my dead body.” Etta kicked off her shoes and joined her sister on the swing. The chains creaked as they pushed back and forth in a slow rhythm. “We can’t just let Donny Joe have Grammy’s house. One of her last wishes was for us to keep it in the family. And what about Beulah? Where will she go if we can’t hang on to it?”
The family home was a white two-story sprawling house with a wide welcoming front porch and deep teal shutters. Although the neighbor’s house was set within walking distance, the property was several acres long, running out back behind the house and down to a creek. Etta had explored every inch of the place as a child, and even though she hadn’t spent much time here as an adult, the summers she’d spent here with Grammy Hazel held too many precious memories to count. She wasn’t going to stand idly by and do nothing to save it.