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A breeze ruffles Marshall’s dark hair as he slides a folder across the outdoor patio table to his father. “No, but it turns out Jude Johnson’s name was mentioned in the contract we signed on October fourth of last year.”
“Which means you don’t have the grounds to say there was a misrepresentation of information,” I mutter, releasing something between a bitter laugh and a scoff. “I should’ve known my father would do this. God, I just—What does he want from you? Wouldn’t he have known his name was in there when you terminated your involvement?”
Wynn meets my gaze. “I don’t know, but we’re legally bound, by contract, to build the condos. They have our signatures, as evidenced by that email printout my dad has. It was so very kind of them to highlight the part where Jude is mentioned as aninvestor. Did I mention it’s in the finest of fine prints?”
“Doesn’t matter how fine the print is. If it’s legible, it’s legal,” Jackie says with a shake of her head, clearly putting on her attorney hat for the moment. It’s been over two decades since she practiced law, and she specialized in family matters, but she’s just as sharp as I’m sure she was back then. “Unfortunately, that’s just how it works.”
“I mean, is it such a bad thing to go through with it?” John holds up a hand, probably expecting to take plenty of heat for that question. “Just hear me out before you say anything. I don’t condone the way J & J has done business and I’m aware that one of the founders is Jess and Seth’s absent father. That said, the fine print isn’t wrong. Jude is an investor. They omitted that he’s a silent partner, yes, but unfortunately a judge probably wouldn’t care about that if it went to court. If his name is in the contract, it’s in the contract. There’s no way to get around it.”
If last night and the landslide of memories of Sierra didn’t tick me off enough, this officially did the trick. I scoot back from the table—much more calmly than last night at Jenna’s, I admit—and pace to the railing of the deck, pausing there for a moment. As much as I love my house and my own view of the lake, I’m convinced there’s not a better spot on Falls Lake than this plot of land the Serendipity Inn sits on. From my current vantage point, the neat green lawn gently slopes down to the docks. From there the lake stretches out like a sparkling blue carpet until the cloudless sky kisses it in the distance. Falls Lake is only six square miles, but you’d be surprised how big those miles really are.
After I’ve taken a couple cleansing breaths, I cross back to the table and lower into my chair beside John. Ember’s on my left at one head of the table, her mother opposite her, and Marshall, Jess, and Wynn are across from John and I. Apparently Noelle had a meeting with her mother and the mayor about the upcoming town event, Summer by the Falls, or she likely would’ve been here too. I thought about offering to switch places with her, but I don’t know the first thing about event planning, so I refrained.
“Personally, my standpoint hasn’t changed since October,” Marshall says, glancing down at his wife. “Whether or not Jude’s name is in the contract, we were lied to. None of the correspondences leading up to when we signed that contract gave us any indication Jude Johnson was involved in the company. If that’s not enough, he waited untilafterthe contract was signed to try calling me. And then, when I finally did take his call, he asked me to keep his involvement and the fact that he’s been obtaining information on Jess and Seth through their aunt and uncle a secret. I’m sorry, but that’s not healthy business practice.”
“But it’s legal.” Again, my calm words are betraying the metaphorical tornado tearing through my insides, but it’s instinct. I’m trained to remain cool and collected in any given situation, personal or professional. I probably could’ve remembered that last year when my sister tried to get me to help locate our father, but I can’t change anything now. “Believe me, I get where you’re coming from. I’m right there with you. But if his name is in the contract, and it is, then all emotions and personal feelings aside, it’s legal. And I guarantee you my father knows that.”
“Even the fact that he obtained information about you and me from Meredith and Elias?” Jess asks, her eyes searching my face like she’s done so many times over the years when she wants answers I can’t necessarily provide. “That’s seriously legal?”
I sigh. “Meredith and Elias became our legal guardians when Jude was arrested. They never officially adopted us, which means that yes, it would be legal for them to give him any information they wanted to. Did Meredith tell you when she and Elias started sharing information with Jude when you talked to her last year, Marshall?”
My brother-in-law hesitates. “Oh, boy. I don’t think so.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” I look at Jess. “Has she said anything to you about it when you go out to lunch every week?”
A tradition they started last year, but one I’ve never wanted to be a part of. Until I know the full truth about my father and what really happened all those years ago—which, I’m aware, might never happen—I won’t let my guard down around any family member except my sister. The only time Meredith and I speak is the occasional special occasion, such as Marshall and Jess’s wedding or a holiday.
Jess shakes her head. “We don’t really talk about anything like that. It’s mainly only things in the present, like my business or the baby.”
“Unfortunately, that also means that, unless proven otherwise, Meredith and Elias might not have shared anything with Jude until after you were both legal adults.” John takes the words right out of my mouth. “And because it’s not a case of an adoption, like Seth said, that would likely be considered legal.”
Jess bites her lip and Marshall must notice, because he grasps her hand on the table and lifts it to his lips to press a brief kiss to her knuckles. I might give the guy a hard time for his spontaneity, but my brother-in-law is one of the finest men I know, and the way he treats my sister like she’s the most important thing in his world proves that.
“You said Jude emailed this over personally?” John asks, lifting the contract.
Wynn nods. “Yes. The first email we’ve received from him directly.”
“Was it a business or personal email address?” I ask.
“Business.” Wynn gestures to my phone sitting on the table in front of me. “That’s why I asked what number called you. He put his office number at the bottom of the email.”
I roll my eyes. “Wow. How generous of him.”
“But wouldn’t the contract be expired by now?” Ember, who’s been surprisingly quiet this entire conversation, pipes up. Based on her narrowed eyes and the way she sits up straight in her chair, she’s been formulating exactly what she wants to say. “When were the condos supposed to be completed?”
“May of this year,” Wynn says slowly. “Why?”
“It’s June—practically July. Dad, can I have one of those contracts, please?” Ember reaches in front of me to take the papers from John, and her dark brows slant as she scans through the pages, using one pink fingernail to underline as she goes. Her eyes are moving back and forth so fast I don’t understand how she’s comprehending any of the words she’s reading. Then she lets out a squeal that makes me cringe. “Ah-ha! See, here it states that the project, done by blah-blah-blah has to be blah-blah-blah and completed by May twenty-seventh!”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean the contract is voided out, though,” I say, treading carefully with my words. I know Ember only wants to help, and I really don’t want to hurt her feelings. If there was ever going to be one person who might be able to make me see just a little bit of the magic in life, it would be Ember, and I can’t help but love her for it. “It’s still legally binding. A simple signature holds a lot of weight. They hold pretty much all the weight of any business partnership ever done. And unfortunately, because of the information that was brought to the light this morning, Wynn and Marshall pretty much only have two choices. Hire an attorney and take it to court with the hope of having a gracious judge, or…” Just thinking the words makes my stomach churn, but I force them out anyway. “Or working with my father’s company.”
Judging by the sound of the footfalls alone, I know it’s John approaching me from behind, but I keep my gaze forward. John lowers into the wooden rattan chair beside mine on the dock and leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. He doesn’t say a word as we both simply sit there while the gently ruffled lake laps at the shore behind us and ever so slightly sways the dock beneath us. I came down here just a few minutes ago after our little meeting was adjourned in hopes it would help clear my head.
“The fact that my father decided to email Wynn after eight months really pisses me off,” I say bluntly.
John releases a chuckle. “I can’t imagine a scenario where it wouldn’t, Seth.”
“I mean, what thehellwas he thinking?” I know my fuse is lit, but I also need to vent a little if I want it to be extinguished before moving on with my day, and John has never ever told me to get lost when I ask to speak with him. Or, in this case, just dive right in without asking. “Did he have this planned? Was he playing it nice last October to see if Wynn and Marshall would decide to go through with the project after all? And then, when they didn’t, he decided to pull out the big guns to leave them no choice?”
