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“I’ve been throwing up all night
. I think I had some bad takeout. But we’re concerned about my having lost a lot of fluids.” Callie—who was one of the strongest women she knew—couldn’t hide her fear or the tremor in her voice.
“Get to the doctor, Callie. Don’t waste time talking to me on the phone. I’ll be fine attending the meeting by myself.”
“Aww, bless you, my friend,” Callie said.
“Bless you and that little bundle you’re carrying. Please call me back when you get a free moment. I really want to know that you’re all right.”
“Will do,” Callie promised before saying goodbye.
Hope parked in the lot right across the street from the office building where the mediation meeting was set to take place. Hope took a quick glance in her compact mirror, then smoothed her hair back before exiting her car. With every step she took that brought her closer to the building, Hope’s nerves began to fray.
By the time she took the elevator to the third floor, she felt tongue-tied and awkward. What did she know about mediation meetings? What if Grayson tried to steamroll her? What if she made a big mess out of everything due to her being inexperienced?
When she was directed into the sleek conference room by the receptionist, Hope found herself the last to arrive. Grayson—decked out in a tan suit with a crisp white shirt underneath—looked jaw droppingly handsome. She almost gasped out loud at the sight of him with newly cut hair. His hair had been cut so it now hung mid cheek. He looked sleek and attractive. The shorter hair definitely made his features pop more, which of course, was the last thing a man like Grayson needed. Could he get any more handsome? Hope agonized.
The woman seated next to Grayson seemed to be listening raptly to whatever he was saying. Grayson stood up the moment she entered the room. He came around to the other side of the table. “Morning, Hope. It’s good to see you.”
“Morning,” Hope murmured, feeling unsettled by Grayson’s chipper greeting. Why did he always act as if they were old friends rather than two people who were at odds over property?
“This is Marisol Cantana. She’s our mediator,” Grayson said, gesturing across the table to the dark-haired woman with the great smile. Marisol nodded in her direction and they exchanged pleasantries.
Grayson pulled out a chair for her and she quickly sat down, desperately trying to push away her anxiety. She turned toward Grayson, who seemed to be watching her like a hawk. Immediately her nerves skyrocketed. “Thank you,” she said with a nod.
Grayson sat down in the seat next to her. She felt her eyes widening. Wasn’t he supposed to be sitting across from her?
“I don’t think we need to sit across from each other like adversaries. Do you?” he asked. His blue-green eyes were like deep pools in the ocean. She looked away, fearful she might be pulled in like the effects of a whirlpool.
“N-no, this is fine. I have to tell you that Callie was supposed to join us for the meeting but she’s too ill to attend,” Hope explained. Suddenly she wished one of the other co-owners had been available last minute. How in the world was she going to handle this by herself?
“That’s fine,” Marisol said in a friendly voice. “So it’s just the three of us then. I think this serves as the perfect opportunity for the two sides to talk about what they hope to accomplish today.” She jutted her chin in Grayson’s direction. “Since you filed the action why don’t you go first.”
Grayson splayed his fingers out in front of him. His hands were beautiful, much like the man himself. And as an artist, he used those powerful hands to create beautiful images.
“I explored mediation because I came to the realization that a court case could get ugly and divisive and costly for everyone. I don’t want that. I didn’t file the suit for malice. I’m trying really hard to be a better man in my life. God wouldn’t want us to get embroiled in a nasty, bruising court case.” Grayson was staring straight at her as he spoke. Hope tried not to fidget or look away from him. There were so many ways this man made her feel ill at ease.
“Well then what was it all for?” She blurted out. It had been the big, burning questions for months. Why had this man sought ownership of Savannah House? He must have an ulterior motive.
“I filed the suit because I wanted to connect to my roots. My origins. Savannah House was created by my great-grandparents. It’s a legacy. A footprint of my ancestors and where I came from. I’ve never had that before.”
“We still haven’t seen any proof of any actual ties to Miss Hattie.” Hope tried her best to make her voice measured and even. She didn’t want to disrupt the meeting by telling Grayson she thought his claims were as reasonable as a pig having the ability to fly.
Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out a document. He slid it across to Hope. She stared at the piece of paper. Shivers raced across her back. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she felt something was about to shift in her world. The words Hattie Alexander jumped out at her. Father—Samuel Blythewood. Baby Boy Patrick Alexander.
Hope let out a cry. Seeing Miss Hattie’s name on the birth certificate was startling. She sucked in a deep breath, knowing that from this moment forward the narrative about Savannah House and Miss Hattie’s legacy would be forever altered.
“Is this…does this belong to your father?” she asked, trying to keep her composure. “Did he give this to you?”
“It came from him,” Grayson said, his expression shuttered. “He didn’t exactly give it to me.”
“What does that mean?” Hope pressed. “Did you just take it?”
Suddenly, his expression was sheepish. “My father doesn’t want me to go down this road. He hasn’t helped me very much in my pursuit of the truth.” He reached out and tapped the birth certificate. “So yes. I took it without getting permission.”
Hope raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“I don’t consider it stealing,” he said in a curt voice. His posture became rigid. Hope could hear a defensive note in his voice. “I have every right to know who I am. Everyone has that right. My father only tracked down this version of his birth certificate a few years ago. Before then it was a mystery.”
