“Sounds good to me,” Connor said. “I can’t wait to get rid of it.”
“And Uncle Hugh’s bad juju along with it,” Jake muttered.
Ian nodded. “Mom will be glad, too.”
“She’s been wanting the whole problem to disappear from day one.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Uncle Hugh pretty much ruined her life.”
“But she rallied just fine,” Connor said with a hint of pride. “She made a good life for all of us once she got over here.”
At that, the three men spontaneously clinked their glasses together and drank in silence.
Despite acquiring the castle and all the land for miles around it after their father died, Uncle Hugh continued to be a bitter man to the very end. Since he’d never had children and hated his own brother, he fashioned his last will and testament to deliberately create an irreparable rift among his nephews, forcing them to compete against each other for their inheritance.
His will provided that all the MacLaren money, land and power would go to whichever brother had acquired the most wealth by the twenty-fifth anniversary of their father’s death. As the date grew closer, Jake was contacted by the Scottish lawyers, who required the brothers to send financial reports in order to determine which of them would eventually inherit.
That final date was coming up fast.
Connor, Ian and Jake had no intention of complying with their uncle’s wishes. They had vowed at a young age not to fight against each other for the sake of a plot of land and a big old house, especially if it fulfilled their horrible uncle’s wishes. Frankly, none of them could even picture the castle in their minds since Uncle Hugh had taken possession of it when they were all too young to remember it. Their mother called it “a cold, crumbling pile of Scottish stone” and cursed it on a daily basis.
The plain fact was, their home was Northern California now. They didn’t want the castle or the land. So no matter which brother “won” Uncle Hugh’s blood money, the three of them planned to sell the Scottish land and the castle and split the proceeds three ways.
Jake savored his cocktail. “I’ll call the lawyers back and let them know that one of us will get over there within the next three months.”
“Sounds good,” Ian said, and glanced at his wristwatch. “So, everyone ready for this dinner with the Wellstones?”
“Yeah,” Jake said, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be meeting my date at the restaurant a few minutes ahead of time.”
“Sounds good.” Connor stood and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table. “I’ve got to get back and pick up Maggie. I’ll see you guys there.”
* * *
Maggie paced back and forth in front of the living room window of the suite, occasionally glancing up to check the time. Connor would arrive any minute now to take her to the important dinner with Mr. Wellstone and his sons. They planned to close a major deal tonight, and Maggie had to be on her best behavior.
So it might not be appropriate to stumble and fall on her butt.
That’s why she was walking around, trying to get used to high heels again. It had been three long years since she’d been forced to wear anything like these killer stilettos. Not since the days when Alan—er, Ashcroft—required her to dress up for the fancy society balls and dinner parties they were constantly attending.