Since the moment Candace had asked him to attend, the meeting with the family attorney had weighed on him. So much so that the night before, he’d had the strangest dream about it. In the dream, Candace called and said he needed to come to White Pines immediately for an urgent matter. Fearing something terrible, he hopped in his truck with Trudy. Upon his arrival, the sky grew dark and clouds tumbled overhead. No sooner had he run up the front steps than the front door swung open. Candace met him on the threshold. “Hurry inside,” she whispered, glancing up at the stormy sky. Wordlessly, Wendell trailed her to the rear of the house and down a long dark hallway until they reached a closed door at the very end. She beckoned him through it. Inside, the office was dimly lit, the walls paneled in rich mahogany. Seated behind a large antique desk, an older gentleman looked up at them over his spectacles. Imposing shelves of books lined the walls behind him. Wendell stepped inside, and the door shut behind him.
The man gestured to a ladder-back chair. “Sit.” Then he pushed a thick manila folder across the desk.
Hesitantly, Wendell opened the file to find a stack of loose-leaf papers.White Pineswas typed in boldface across the cover sheet. Wendell thumbed through the pages behind it, all of them blank.When he looked up, the man was gone. Candace sat in his place. “It’s yours,” she said.
“All of it?”
She nodded and handed him a brass key. It was small and tarnished, with a fancy scrolled handle.
Then she escorted him out of the office, back down the hall, and to the front door. This time she stepped through it. “Good luck,” she said without looking back.
“Wait!” Wendell followed her outside. The sky had cleared, and the sun spilled through. He scanned the bucolic view that unrolled before him: the barns at the bottom of the drive. The silvery span of lake to the west. The shadow of woods behind it. He stood blinking on the front steps as Candace disappeared down the driveway.
When he turned back to the house, the door had shut. Wendell tried the handle, but it was locked. At first Wendell panicked. But then he remembered the key. Carefully, he slid it into the lock. There was the slightest click. He was just about to turn the key when he awoke.
All day leading up to the meeting, the dream had stayed with him. It was ridiculous, of course. White Pines would never be bequeathed to him. There were Julia and Pippa. And Candace. Knowing Alan, there was just as much chance he’d leave his worth to charity. There was no way on earth Wendell factored in to any of it.
And that was fine with him, as long as he kept his job. These days, it was the only place where Wendell felt any sense of peace in his own skin. The veteran who’d returned from his tour with the National Guard may have looked and sounded the same, but the old Wendell Combs was long gone. Without White Pines, he could not imagine what he would do.
Finally, four o’clock came, and as Wendell knocked on the front door, he tried to push the strange dream from his mind.
The door opened almost immediately. “Ah, right on time,” Candace said. “We’re meeting in Alan’s office. Follow me.”
Wendell and Alan had always held their meetings on-site: outdoors in the fields, or along the lake, or inside one of the barns. Never before had he been inside Alan’s office, and as he entered, he allowed his gaze to wander discreetly. It was not the dark mahogany-paneled room he’d dreamed. Rather, it was light-filled and airy, with vaulted ceilings. A scrolled circular metal staircase led up to a small loft at the far end of the room, flanked by windows. A cozy nook, he thought, imagining the Lancaster girls. There were built-in bookcases along the wall beneath, and floor-to-ceiling windows along the adjacent wall, filling the room with the outdoors. Candace directed him to two leather armchairs seated across from a chesterfield sofa, where a middle-aged gentleman stood from his seat. “Geoffrey, this is Wendell Combs, our property manager.” The two men shook hands. Wendell appreciated his strong grip and easy smile. Candace took a seat in the armchair adjacent to Wendell’s. “Well, shall we get down to business?”
Geoffrey spoke first. “Mr. Combs, I’d like to start by saying that Alan thought very highly of you. He said as much in our many conversations over the years whenever we discussed White Pines.”
At the mention of Alan’s name, Wendell stared down at his calloused hands. His nails were trimmed short and scrubbed clean. But there was no denying the recent extra hours of labor to keep the place in good standing. He had hoped Alan would be pleased. “Thank you. It was a pleasure to work with Alan.”
Geoffrey continued, “As you can imagine, this has been a trying time for the family. While they are of course grieving, there remain significant details to be sorted out as far as the future of White Pines is concerned.”
Wendell shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Geoffrey opened his laptop and began scrolling. “As you mayhave already guessed, Candace has been assigned guardianship of the children.” He paused and looked up over his computer at both of them. “As we work through next steps for the family, we must also consider the future of White Pines.” He turned his attention to Wendell. “This is where you come in.
“The management of White Pines is also to be passed on to Candace. While Alan and Anne very much enjoyed living here with the children, Candace’s life remains back in London. As such, she has expressed a desire to return there with the children as soon as possible.”
So she would not be staying. And neither would the children.
Wendell sat back in his chair, stunned. He’d thought the estate would be left to the girls in some kind of trust. It was their home. And he knew how much Alan and Anne had loved the place. Candace’s arrival had somewhat cemented that idea in his mind, though he realized now how foolish it was to make such sweeping assumptions. Of course she would have her own life across the pond, as Geoffrey said. But couldn’t she have put that somewhat on hold for the time being? Until the girls had a chance to adjust and grieve?
He turned to Candace. “The girls are moving to London?” Wendell was not sure of many things when it came to women, but he would bet his life that Julia would hate this plan. Julia was already fifteen. In just three years, she’d be a full-fledged adult. Surely something could be worked out to keep the place for the children until then?
Candace cleared her throat. “What’s best for the girls now is to move on with their lives and start a new chapter. My life and my work are in London. The girls will adjust.” She said this last piece as if the girls were an afterthought. “Is everything all right, Mr. Combs?”
He knew what she was implying. None of this was his business.But he couldn’t help himself. “Alan and Anne would have wished for the kids to move overseas?” Wendell turned to Geoffrey, trying to get a read on his thoughts.
“It’s complicated,” Geoffrey allowed. “The will was drafted many years ago, before Pippa was born, in fact, and when the family lived in New York. The provision made at that time was to leave any children in Candace’s care.”
None of it made any sense. From what Wendell had gleaned of the siblings’ relationship, Alan and Candace were long estranged, no matter what an old will may have stated. He looked at Geoffrey imploringly. In addition to being their attorney, Geoffrey was Alan and Anne’s longtime family friend. Wasn’t he meant to also represent the children’s wishes?
But Geoffrey seemed intent on focusing on Wendell’s role. “What Candace needs your assistance with is the running of the property.”
Wendell bit his lip and turned his attention to Candace.
“Mr. Combs, you know this estate better than anyone else. I would like to propose a deal with you.”
“What kind of a deal?”
