Page 20 of Merging Wright

I scan her profile. Why would she care? She isn’t my wife. We aren’t actually married and, like Frank said, this is bullshit. If my uncle had plans for the town, why didn’t he inherit it?

“There are rumors a foreign energy company is interested in the land. To use the river for electricity,” Ma adds.

“And?” I bark again, wondering why this is an issue.

“Mach, these are peoples’ lives we’re talking about,” Ma says, visible pain filling her eyes as she clutches her hands at her chest, trying to explain this fucked up situation. “People you grew up with. People I adore.”

She might adore the town, but this town had made my life hell.

“What does this project involve?” Jane asks.

Her calm tenor turns my head in her direction. She can’t be serious.

“Fischer’s wish was to rejuvenate the town in hopes to rebuild the community and possibly encourage tourism,” Landon explains, tugging his reading glasses from his face.

“Tourism?” Uncle Frank and I say in unison.

Then I take my surprise one step further. “Who would willingly visit this place?”

“Mach.” Jane tightens her hold on my arm.

No, this is bullshit. I don’t want this town. I don’t even want to be in this town. I don’t want to rebuild it. And for whatever sick reason, Fischer wrapped up a wife in his fucking departing gift.

“I’m not even married.”

The silence following my exclamation feels almost as heavy as learning Frank only inherited a classic car.

Jane shares a glance with Ma, communicating something as only women can. Slowly, her hand slides down my arm, and her fingers dip into my palm before spearing between my own, combining our hands.

Unsolicited, my fingers respond, holding onto hers.

“Mach is correct. We aren’t married yet. We knew of Mr. Wright’s ailments, and we were hoping to come down here when he was feeling better. We wanted to surprise the family with an engagement. We planned to be married here. Unfortunately, Mr. Wright’s untimely death preceded our arrival and happened before we could properly marry.”

“Ailments?” Uncle Frank scoffs. “He was terminally ill.”

I didn’t know this, or if I did, I’d pushed it out of my head. And just what is Jane doing?

Landon eases back in his seat. “But you do intend to marry?”

“How is that an option?” Frank stammers. “The will states him and his wife. Not marrying some woman after the fact. That means the land is up for grabs and I’ll be issuing an injunction. Da knew I wanted this town.”

Ma’s gaze darts to Landon and holds. As for the some woman comment from Frank, my fingers tighten on Jane’s. “You’ll watch what you say about my fiancée,” I state, surprising myself.

“Your fiancée?” Frank chides. “You need a wife. And you work with her. An office side piece does not make a wife.”

“Spoken like a man who had an affair with his assistant,” Myles mutters.

I’d laugh if I wasn’t ignoring Myles’s presence in the room. Why isn’t he inheriting the town? He’s the one who stayed here.

I’m also fuming at my uncle. Shifting in my seat, I lean toward him but Jane’s hold on my hand tightens. Pointing at his face, I snap, “Show some respect.”

Landon clears his throat. “There’s a final condition. If the project can be completed in time for this year’s Kringle Fest, Myles Wright will inherit two million dollars.”

“What?” Myles and I say in unison, reminding me of when we were kids and we spoke at the same time, with the same thought, as twins can.

“Kringle Fest?” I bark. The festival of lights and night of celebration happens in town the weekend before the Christmas holiday.

“That’s only four months away,” Myles adds.