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“Dawson McLeod. Maybe this time I just wanted to give you a fighting chance.”
She folded her hands on her lap as she fumed, ignoring the deep frown that creased his brow. This had to betheMargaret Smith fromThe Mistletoe Crown. Piper didn’t believe in coincidences, so it was the only reason that he could be here, too.
Diana Sully gave them both a careful stare. “Ah, you know each other. Good.”
“I haven’t seen Piper since I was nine. Let’s just say she makes a lasting impression. Particularly when she steals my interview.”
Piper sat up straighter in her chair. “I was there in good time. It’s not my fault you were tardy. Get over it, Dawson. It was more than twenty years ago.”
“Tardy?” he started, but Ms. Sully cut over them both.
“Actually, it was twenty-six years ago,” she said, her demeanor letting them both know she wouldn’t be interrupted. “And as for lasting impressions, it seems you both made one on Margaret Smith, our client.”
Silence fell across the room and Piper took a deep breath. She could tell from the exchange of glances between the three attorneys that Margaret Smith had been more than a client. These people had known her well.
Dawson’s shoulders relaxed a little and he moved slightly, giving the attorneys his full attention. “I’ve got to say I was surprised when I got your letter. You’ll all know that I never got to interview Ms. Smith. I was surprised she remembered me at all. I can’t imagine why I have anything to do with her estate.”
Piper nodded, feeling that she didn’t need to repeat some of his words.
This time it was Mr. McNally that spoke. “Margaret Smith was a very private person,” he said gravely. “After her husband died, and her interview with Ms. Davis, she retreated from public life. The sudden fame aroundThe Mistletoe Crownwas something she’d never expected or wanted.”
Piper shot a look at Dawson, but he was fixed on the three attorneys.
Mr. McNally continued. “Ms. Smith never had any children of her own, nor had any brothers or sisters. She had no family to leave her estate to.” He licked his lips and paused for a moment. “Ms. Smith died just over six months ago after a long illness.” He gave a rueful smile. “She’d actually been given a terminal diagnosis eighteen years ago, and she’d written a will with us at that point. But Margaret lived much longer than expected and updated it from time to time.”
Piper was curious. “She changed it recently?” Why on earth would she change her will to include Piper?
Lisa Travers shook her head. “Not in the way that you think. Yourself”—she nodded at Dawson—“and Mr. McLeod have been a standard part of her will since it was first written. What she’s changed from year to year are the clues.”
“The what?” Piper and Dawson turned their heads toward each other, their voices in unison.
Mr. McNally cleared his throat. “Margaret Smith had a large fortune thanks toThe Mistletoe Crown. She left part of her estate to some charities, but she left her original house, gardens, and greenhouses in Beechwood Park to both of you.”
“What?” Dawson McLeod shook his head. “Why on earth would she leave us her old house and all that land?”
Ms. Sully gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. “Like we told you, Ms. Smith had no family. It seems that all those years ago, both of you captured her attention.”
Piper shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Enough to leave us her gardens? But they were so beautiful, and as for her greenhouses…” It just seemed so unbelievable.
Mr. McNally gave a wide smile—his first since she’d entered the room. “You met Ms. Smith.” He nodded at Piper, and she returned his nod nervously. “As a child, you might not have noticed, but Ms. Smith had a”—he paused for a second to find the word—“mischievous sense of humor.”
Dawson was shaking his head. “I understand why she might have left her gardens and greenhouses to Piper, but me?” He put his hand on his chest. “I barely met her. She wouldn’t let me interview her.”
“Apparently you were quite upset,” said Mr. McNally.
Dawson was clearly a bit embarrassed. “Yes,” he admitted, “I was.”
“You apparently told her that if she let you interview her”—Mr. McNally glanced down at his notes—“you would give her the best interview of her life.”
Piper tried to hide her smile. She’d forgotten exactly what had been said, but now it was all flooding back.
Dawson looked as if he wanted to crawl under the chair. “I might have said something like that,” he muttered.
“But,” Mr. McNally continued, as if Dawson hadn’t spoken at all. “She told you she’d already had the greatest interview of her life, therefore, there was no point.”
Dawson pressed his lips together and didn’t reply. He clearly didn’t like reliving the memory the way that Piper was.
Ms. Sully came in. “Mr. McLeod, I feel at this point I should let you know that Ms. Smith was only toying with you. She fully intended to call your school the next day and arrange for you to come back.” Ms. Sully took a deep breath. “But then her book became famous—literally overnight, and she was beseeched by reporters.” Ms. Sully spoke in a soft tone. “Margaret had only lost her husband a few months before. As you likely remember, he’d done the illustrations for her book but had never lived to see them in the flesh. The reporters attempted to ask her intrusive questions, prying into her private life at a time when she was ill prepared.”
