Page 10 of Blue Jean Summer

I lifted an eyebrow. “Did you ever call my granddad ‘Mr. Wilder’?”

“Heavens no,” she said with a laugh. “I called him that once on my first day, and he put a stop to that real fast. He was always ‘Walt.’ ”

“Then you’re sure as hell not going to call me that,” I said. “And you don’t have to fix me sandwiches. I know where the kitchen is.”

“I’m aware of that,” Hallie said with her hands on her hips. “My concern is that you have barely left this office in the last four days. You’re in here when I go to bed and you’re in here when I get up in the morning. And I’m up early.”

“What’s your point?” I asked as I rubbed the exhaustion from my eyes.

“You’re grieving and running yourself into the ground. Take a breath before you have a heart attack, die, and make Lewis my new boss.”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”

She rested her hands on the edge of the sprawling desk. “Level with me. What’s going on?”

Hallie was a steel trap. Granddad had trusted her with nearly everything. And at the moment, I needed someone to bounce ideas off of. She was reasonable, and I needed that levelheadedness to keep me from doing something incredibly rash.

Incredibly rash, like getting married.

“How much time you got?” I asked as I picked up the sandwich and managed to swallow a bite. It sank like an anvil in my gut.

Hallie glanced at the old-school grandfather clock nestled in the corner. “An hour before I go down to the stables and pick up a check from one of the boarders.”

On top of taking care of my granddad, managing the cleaners that came to the house once a week, and cooking for guests, Hallie served as the point of contact for all the trainers and riders who boarded their horses and trained at the facilities on the property.

She collected payments, made sure they had everything they needed, and ran the estate’s social media presence to highlight the title contenders. She worked with the estate’s accountant to make sure property taxes were paid and the business interests stayed in the black. Though it was much less labor-intensive, she made sure that the cowboy who leased the far side of the estate for his cattle operation was up to date on all his payments, and that the land was respected.

She was an irreplaceable Jane-of-all-trades, a calming, stalwart presence, and someone who was not to be crossed.

Hallie sank into the chair across from me. “Have you heard from your attorney about the will?”

“Yeah,” I said with a groan as I scrubbed my palm down the scruff that had sprouted after days of trying to work through the legal drivel that came with taking over the estate.

I thought Friday’s funeral would be the worst part. It wasn’t.

The worst part was the aftermath of losing someone I wanted to be immortal.

The worst part was dealing with paperwork, taxes, and an inconvenient will.

The worst part was my job looming around the corner to remind me that, at some point, life had to move on.

The worst part was not being able to stop long enough to grieve.

I perused the copy of the will I had been reading over and over again, hoping something would change. When it didn’t, I looked up at Hallie as the weariness I had been ignoring started to settle like a low morning fog.

“My attorney said she’ll contest the will if I want since neither Lewis nor I is married, but that doing so could raise more questions around the language about a portion of the land going to someone’s wife. If we push the issue, the transfer of the estate could be held up in litigation or I could lose it entirely. I wouldn’t put it past Lewis to do whatever it takes to get the estate and sell it off to make a buck. When I talked to Granddad’s lawyer on Monday, he said Lewis had already started the process of filing a petition to contest the will.”

“Hayes,” Hallie said as she hunched forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you understand what you’re talking about?”

“I know,” I grumbled.

“This isn’t a fake relationship. We’re talking about a very real marriage that will end in a very real divorce. We’re talking about someone being involved in this…this scheme. Who do you know that you can trust that much? Money makes people do crazy things.”

“I’m aware,” I said. “Granddad bought this land in 1980 because it was going to be developed. The valley would have disappeared. He outbid some heavy hitters so the land would stay mostly untouched and pissed off a lot of people in the process. He didn’t do it to lock the land away and hoard it for himself. He kept the gates open so Honey Hollow could enjoy it. I’m not going to let Lewis do the exact thing that Granddad stopped. And if a rumor gets out that there’s an issue with the will, who knows who will come out of the woodwork to try to acquire the land.”

“The parkway is already federally protected land. So is the national park,” she said. “That’s the majority of the valley.”

“You never know when that could change. Like you said, money makes people do crazy things.”