Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Call me Bryce,” he insists, his green eyes searching my face. “Denia told me that your relationship with Holden is complicated.”
I almost laugh at that description. Complicated doesn’t begin to describe the non-relationship I have with my older brother. I’d classify it as sworn enemies. Holden might call it something else, but regardless of how we label it, we can’t stand each other and haven’t spoken in more than two years.
I knew I’d have to see him at some point while I’m in Manhattan, but I didn’t anticipate that happening today.
“Once Holden and the others arrive, we’ll move through this quickly.”
I perk a brow. “Others? What others?”
My grandmother had two heirs. I don’t have a cousin waiting in the wings, and my dad didn’t have any secret children I know of.
I’ve been under the impression that the bulk of her estate will go to Holden and his wife, Finella. I fully anticipate that Denia left me one thing only. It’s a piece of artwork that she bought at my urging from a gallery years ago.
She told me then that it would hang in my home one day.
I’m here to collect it, so I can take it back to New Mexico.
“You’ll see.” Mr. Wismer smiles. “Your grandmother was a generous soul.”
That statement is true, but it comes with a caveat. Denia Sheppard would treat you well if you jumped through the hoops she held out for you.
I missed the landing on one of those hoops, so I lost my place in the family business.
I glance around the conference room. It’s what you’d expect to find in a lawyer’s office. The large table in the center is crafted from dark wood. A bookcase covers one wall and is home to countless law books. In the corner, a well-stocked coffee bar awaits anyone who has a craving.
I drop my gaze to my watch. “You said ten, right? Everyone should be here by now.”
“I’m here.”
The sound of that voice turns me toward the open doorway.
He may only be seven years older than me, but my brother is sporting a few gray hairs near his temples. They’re a sharp contrast to the dark brown of his hair. His blue eyes are the same shade as mine. They mirror the color of our paternal grandmother’s eyes.
The suit he’s wearing is tailored to fit, as always. As my gaze trails over him, I stop when I spot his left hand.
“Where’s your wife?” I ask.
His right hand darts to the left. His index finger and thumb run a path over his bare ring finger. “That’s none of your business.”
That’s where he’s wrong. His marriage is as much my business as it is his.
Suddenly, Holden glances over his shoulder. “Hey! How are you?”
I move to try and catch a glimpse of who is on the approach behind him.
When Sinclair steps into view, our eyes lock briefly before I clear my throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Holden steps aside so she can enter the conference room.
Dressed in a pair of black pants and a light blue blouse, she looks stunning. The heels on her feet grant her a few more inches of height, but I still tower over her as she moves toward me.
“I’m here because Mr. Wismer called me,” she says. “Your grandmother wanted me here.”
On a sharp exhale, I look up at the ceiling as I hold in a laugh because this is classic Denia Sheppard. She definitely got the last word this time.
CHAPTER SIX
Sinclair
All heads in the conference room turn toward the entrance when a man wearing a floral print button-down shirt, green shorts, and flip-flops walks in.
I stare at him, certain that he’s mistaken this law office for a beachside resort, but the look on Mr. Wismer’s face tells me that the floral shirt guy is supposed to be here.
He extends a hand to the lawyer. “Hello again, Mr. Wismer.”
“It’s great to see you, Mr. Harkins.”
They share a quick shake of their hands before Mr. Wismer pats him on the shoulder. “Please call me Bryce. Denia would have wanted you to.”
I’ve known Jameson’s grandmother all my life, and I can back Mr. Wismer up on that statement. Denia Sheppard wasn’t into formalities. She treated almost everyone she met as family, especially if you did anything kind for her.
She always said that she wished she had a granddaughter just like me. It was one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received, and now that she’s gone, I’ll hold tightly to those words and my memories of her.
“Bryce it is.” The man in the floral shirt smiles. “I see almost everyone is here.”
“Almost?” Jameson grumbles under his breath.
I’ve never been part of the reading of anyone’s will. Even though I inherited money from my grandpa’s estate, I was too young at the time of his death to be included in any of the pomp and circumstance of settling his estate. My parents took care of that and overlooked my trust until I turned twenty-five a few months ago.