of
William.”
The attorney nodded toward the dark-haired
man in front of the window. “Mitchell is the last of the Rieses now
that his father and grandfather are both dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Delanie murmured, still
wondering why she was sitting here.
“The…entail…for want of a better word,” Alec
Parker said, “ended with Donovan’s generation. After that, The
Cedars became property, as any other property, to be bequeathed in
any way the individual family members chose.”
“All right.” Delanie’s heart began to
pound.
Mitchell wheeled around to face her. “And,
as you well know, Donovan left his half-ownership of The Cedars to
you, Ms. Carlyle. In payment of services rendered, we can only
assume.”
“What?” she gasped. “He left The Cedars to
me?”
“Only his half,” Mitchell said, a bitter
smile curling his lips. “The other half is mine.”
Delanie stared at him, aghast.
“So we’re partners,” he said, enmity in his
eyes.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered, “what was
Donovan thinking?”
“As to that,” Alec Parker said
apologetically, “I have no idea. Although I drew up this will for
him just under six months ago, he simply gave me instructions on
how to handle the bequests. He made no explanations, left no
letters.”
“So…so I own half of The Cedars?”
she said, bewildered.
“Yes.” Mr. Parker nodded. “The two of you
own the resort jointly.”
“Jointly,” she echoed, the word faint. She
and the devastatingly handsome, implacably hostile man by the
window owned a business together?
No wonder Mitchell Riese was so angry.
Could she sell out, she wondered wildly,
glancing at his dark-clad, powerful figure.
Take the money and run?
But her conscience kicked in at that point
and she paused.
“Donovan actually left this to me, of all
the people in his life,” she murmured, half to herself.
“Yes,” the attorney confirmed again,
flashing a concerned glance at Mitchell. “Although he left the rest
of his considerable estate to his grandson, this property—his
portion of it—was left to you.”
“He didn’t say why, but he specifically
wanted me to have his half of The Cedars?” Delanie asked, still
confused. The old man had loved the place. Why leave half of it to
her?
“That’s right.”
“Okay.” Still feeling dazed, Delanie stared
unseeing at the attorney’s face. She and Donovan had shared an
appreciation of the old building and it’s picture-perfect setting.
The deep verandas and old-fashioned bathroom fixtures. The wood
floors and big windows.
The jewel of a lake cradled between the
hills.
Donovan had picked her for the job, he’d
said, because her proposal for the renovation had echoed his own
love of the place.
And Jenna might have been conceived
there.
No, Delanie realized, she couldn’t sell her
half of The Cedars. Not yet, anyway.
Almost against her will, her gaze strayed to
the dark figure blotting out the light from the window.
Now she knew why Mitchell Riese hated her.
She’d stolen half his birthright. Unwittingly stolen it, but still,
she owned half of what he no doubt considered rightfully his.
She met the hard, glittering eyes and felt a
shiver of apprehension run through her. No matter how she
protested, he’d never believe she hadn’t known his grandfather’s
intention.
And she knew from his behavior this morning
that Mitchell would make nothing easy for her.
For a few minutes, Delanie wrestled with her
trepidation. From just her own experience in running a small
business, she’d had the opportunity to note how wrong a partnership
could go. A business partner who hated you could make your life
hell.
In reaction to the thought, she lifted her
chin, her gaze still tangled with Mitchell’s. Well, to hell with
him, too. She’d never lacked for ingenuity and she even had a
certain flair for mischievous warfare when the situation called for
it.
For whatever reason, Donovan wanted her to
have half of The Cedars. She
William.”
The attorney nodded toward the dark-haired
man in front of the window. “Mitchell is the last of the Rieses now
that his father and grandfather are both dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Delanie murmured, still
wondering why she was sitting here.
“The…entail…for want of a better word,” Alec
Parker said, “ended with Donovan’s generation. After that, The
Cedars became property, as any other property, to be bequeathed in
any way the individual family members chose.”
“All right.” Delanie’s heart began to
pound.
Mitchell wheeled around to face her. “And,
as you well know, Donovan left his half-ownership of The Cedars to
you, Ms. Carlyle. In payment of services rendered, we can only
assume.”
“What?” she gasped. “He left The Cedars to
me?”
“Only his half,” Mitchell said, a bitter
smile curling his lips. “The other half is mine.”
Delanie stared at him, aghast.
“So we’re partners,” he said, enmity in his
eyes.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered, “what was
Donovan thinking?”
“As to that,” Alec Parker said
apologetically, “I have no idea. Although I drew up this will for
him just under six months ago, he simply gave me instructions on
how to handle the bequests. He made no explanations, left no
letters.”
“So…so I own half of The Cedars?”
she said, bewildered.
“Yes.” Mr. Parker nodded. “The two of you
own the resort jointly.”
“Jointly,” she echoed, the word faint. She
and the devastatingly handsome, implacably hostile man by the
window owned a business together?
No wonder Mitchell Riese was so angry.
Could she sell out, she wondered wildly,
glancing at his dark-clad, powerful figure.
Take the money and run?
But her conscience kicked in at that point
and she paused.
“Donovan actually left this to me, of all
the people in his life,” she murmured, half to herself.
“Yes,” the attorney confirmed again,
flashing a concerned glance at Mitchell. “Although he left the rest
of his considerable estate to his grandson, this property—his
portion of it—was left to you.”
“He didn’t say why, but he specifically
wanted me to have his half of The Cedars?” Delanie asked, still
confused. The old man had loved the place. Why leave half of it to
her?
“That’s right.”
“Okay.” Still feeling dazed, Delanie stared
unseeing at the attorney’s face. She and Donovan had shared an
appreciation of the old building and it’s picture-perfect setting.
The deep verandas and old-fashioned bathroom fixtures. The wood
floors and big windows.
The jewel of a lake cradled between the
hills.
Donovan had picked her for the job, he’d
said, because her proposal for the renovation had echoed his own
love of the place.
And Jenna might have been conceived
there.
No, Delanie realized, she couldn’t sell her
half of The Cedars. Not yet, anyway.
Almost against her will, her gaze strayed to
the dark figure blotting out the light from the window.
Now she knew why Mitchell Riese hated her.
She’d stolen half his birthright. Unwittingly stolen it, but still,
she owned half of what he no doubt considered rightfully his.
She met the hard, glittering eyes and felt a
shiver of apprehension run through her. No matter how she
protested, he’d never believe she hadn’t known his grandfather’s
intention.
And she knew from his behavior this morning
that Mitchell would make nothing easy for her.
For a few minutes, Delanie wrestled with her
trepidation. From just her own experience in running a small
business, she’d had the opportunity to note how wrong a partnership
could go. A business partner who hated you could make your life
hell.
In reaction to the thought, she lifted her
chin, her gaze still tangled with Mitchell’s. Well, to hell with
him, too. She’d never lacked for ingenuity and she even had a
certain flair for mischievous warfare when the situation called for
it.
For whatever reason, Donovan wanted her to
have half of The Cedars. She
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