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I frowned. “What about the bed and breakfast? I thought he still owned it. Why isn’t that in the list?”
My parents both glanced at me.
“What? Did he sell it, and nobody told me?” I asked, looking around. “Sorry, I—”
“There is one more beneficiary listed in your grandfather’s will, Miss O’Neil.” Mr. Porter flipped the page. “That’s why you’re here, after all.”
Oh.
Clearly, I wasn’t using my brain.
Wait.
What?
“I’m sorry?” I blinked at him. “Grandpa put me in the will?”
Mum nodded slowly.
Well, bugger me.
“‘And to my granddaughter,’” Mr. Porter read, adjusting his glasses. “‘Miss Charlotte Rose O’Neil, I leave The Ivy Bed and Breakfast and all its contents, acreage, and the sum of one hundred thousand pounds exactly.’”
I choked on a bit of spit that had magically lodged itself in my throat at this extremely inconvenient time and smacked myself in the chest as everyone looked at me, alarmed. “I’m okay,” I rasped, quickly tapping the base of my throat. “I think I misheard you.”
“Would you like me to repeat it?” he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.
“No, no, I… My tea.” I reached forwards for my cup and took a big mouthful of the now lukewarm drink, held the gross liquid in my cheeks for a moment, then swallowed it with a wince.
“Are you okay, Lottie?” Dad asked, concern flashing in his eyes.
“No,” I replied slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“If I may?” Mr. Porter offered, removing his glasses. At my father’s nod, he looked at me. “Your grandfather called me eighteen months ago, not long after he found out he would be receiving hospice care in the near future. He expressed his wish that you be the one to inherit the bed and breakfast.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but was he of sound mind? He said some whacky things sometimes.”
“Yes, he was,” he replied with a kind smile. “I spoke with his doctor at the time who confirmed he was able to make that decision, and I suspect your grandfather knew you’d respond like this because he made sure I sought a second opinion. It was the same as the first.”
Smart man.
“Um. Okay.”
“I should assure you that all necessary taxes will be paid from the estate,” he said, setting the file aside. “You will receive everything said in the will once probate is through. Until then, your mother is de facto owner, but I don’t suspect the two of you will have any issues.”
Right.
I was now the owner of a bed and breakfast and one hundred thousand pounds.
Sort of.
“It hasn’t been open in four years,” I said slowly, looking at my parents. “What am I supposed to do with it? I don’t know how to run a bed and breakfast.”
Really, the only thing I could run was my mouth.
Not even a race. Even those fun ones with the colours.
“We can get to that,” Dad said.
