The following afternoon, Connor stared out the bay window of the Marin Club, taking in the view of clear blue skies and tumultuous waves crashing against the sandy shore. Though he was here to meet with his brothers, all he could think about was Maggie, and not just because of the incredible sex they’d had that morning. No, she was on his mind because he couldn’t forget the horror story she’d related at dinner the night before. He just wished he’d had an inkling of what she’d been going through. Damn it, he’d been so clueless back then he hadn’t even realized they’d broken up. If he’d known how Maggie really felt, he would have canceled that stupid skydiving trip in a heartbeat. And he might have prevented her from running off and falling into the trap of that creep husband and his twisted mother. One phone call from Maggie and Connor would’ve jumped on a plane and rescued her from that hell house she’d been living in.
His thoughts were interrupted when the waitress came over and took their drink orders. Jake had called this impromptu meeting with his brothers to talk over some important family business. They’d decided to meet here instead of the festival hotel in order to avoid any big ears that might be tempted to listen in on their conversation.
The Marin Club wasn’t actually a club at all, but a bar and grill the brothers had been coming to for years. The service was good, the drinks were cold and the food was great.
The waitress set their drinks on the table. “Here you go, boys. Scotch for you, Ian. Pint of IPA for Connor and your martini, Jake. Extra dry, lemon twist.”
“Perfect,” Connor said, taking the pint glass from her.
“You boys are so dressed up in your suits and ties this afternoon. Is there some big party I should know about?”
Jake grinned. “We’ve got a business dinner to go to after this.”
“Ah,” she said. “Not quite as exciting as I imagined, but I hope you have fun.”
“Thanks, Sherry,” Jake said. “You’re the best.”
She winked at him, slid the black plastic bill case onto the table and strolled away humming. She was an old friend of their mother’s and could always count on the MacLaren boys for a large tip.
“Cheers,” Ian said, holding up his glass. They all clinked their drinks together, then sipped.
“Okay, what’s up?” Connor said after taking a satisfying taste of his drink, a well-crafted English pale ale that he’d been ordering for years.
Jake gave each of them his patented scowl. “I heard from the Scottish lawyers again.”
“What’s their problem?” Connor asked. “We’ve still got a few months before the terms of the will have to be met.”
“They’re getting antsy.”
“No, they’re getting pushy,” Connor said.
“What do you expect?” Ian said. “They’re lawyers.”
“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “But they’re just going to have to wait until one of us can take some time off.”
“It’s not that I care what they think,” Jake said, “but I do believe we’re reaching the point where one of us will have to fly over there and survey the property, just to see what’s involved.”
“It’s basically some land and a big old house,” Ian said, shrugging. “We’ve all done real estate deals. What’s the big mystery?”