Chapter 3 - MAGNOLIA HOUSE
After lunch, Evelyn took Nora and me into her study.
I was surprised I was included.
Diane objected.
Evelyn responded:
“Nora paid for him. We should get our money’s worth.”
Nora turned red.
I nearly laughed.
“You told her?”
“No.”
Evelyn waved a hand.
“You whisper terribly.”
The study smelled like old books and cedar.
Evelyn opened another file.
Magnolia House Preservation Trust.
The property had been transferred into trust fifteen years earlier.
Evelyn held controlling voting authority for life.
After her death, control split.
Forty percent Nora.
Thirty percent Diane.
Thirty percent a preservation foundation.
Nora stared.
“Why me?”
“Your grandfather wanted it.”
“I was ten.”
“He liked you.”
“That seems like poor estate planning.”
Evelyn smiled.
“You also used to threaten anyone who picked flowers from the front garden.”
“I was protective.”
“Exactly.”
I read the trust.
The preservation foundation prevented simple sale.
But development easements could be modified with sixty-five percent approval.
Diane plus Nora equaled seventy.
There it was.
Miles married Nora.
Nora gets pressured into signing.
Harper gains enough trust approval to pursue development.
“Did Diane know?” Nora asked.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
Nora stood.
She paced.
“My mother wanted me to marry Miles because of real estate?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Not only.”
“That does not help.”
“She thinks he is safe.”
“I don’t want safe.”
Evelyn looked at me.
Nora noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking something.”
“I often do.”
She glared.
I liked her angry.
Evelyn said:
“Your mother is terrified.”
Nora stopped.
“Of what?”
“Losing everything.”
Bennett Events had been declining for nearly two years.
Several major clients left.
One failed expansion cost nearly two million.
Diane borrowed more.
Then Charles Harper arrived.
Six-million-dollar bridge loan.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Pride.”
Nora laughed bitterly.
“Family tradition.”
I examined the development option.
It was unusually aggressive.
“Who drafted this?”
“Harper counsel.”
“Of course.”
Evelyn watched me.
“You see something.”
“They didn’t lend six million to make interest.”
Nora looked over.
“What do they want?”
“The land.”
Charles had identified a potential riverfront luxury development.
Magnolia House itself would remain.
Good optics.
Historic preservation.
Private club.
But the rear acreage could support luxury residences, a hotel annex and marina access if approvals changed.
Worth perhaps eighty million.
Maybe more.
Nora sat again.
“Six million buys the chance at eighty.”
“Approximately.”
“You know this area?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I looked at her.
“I develop property.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“How do you know Charles?”
Fair.
I could lie.
Didn’t.
“Three years ago he tried buying warehouse land through shell companies.”
“And?”
“I owned the land.”
“Did you sell?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t like the way he approached it.”
Evelyn laughed.
“That sounds polite.”
Nora studied me.
“There’s more.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
I looked toward Evelyn.
She appeared curious too.
“My logistics company operates through the port.”
“Okay.”
“Not everyone who works around ports solves disputes with lawyers.”
Nora stared.
“You’re Mafia.”
“No.”
“Criminal?”
“Occasionally.”
Evelyn coughed to hide a laugh.
Nora stood.
“I hired a criminal?”
“That word is broad.”
“You let me take you to my grandmother’s birthday.”
“You offered me money.”
“Oh my God.”
She paced again.
“This is why Charles looked terrified.”
“He wasn’t terrified.”
“He held your hand with both hands.”
“Southern hospitality.”
“Evan.”
“Fine.”
I leaned back.
“He knows my reputation.”
“What reputation?”
I looked at her.
“The kind that makes me a bad fake boyfriend for someone who wants a quiet afternoon.”
She stared at me.
Then:
“Have you killed people?”
Evelyn stopped smiling.
I answered carefully.
“I have been responsible for things I’m not proud of.”
Nora’s expression changed.
Not panic.
Disappointment.
That was worse.
“I need air.”
She left.
I started to follow.
Evelyn stopped me.
“Give her a minute.”
I looked at the doorway.
“You’re surprisingly calm.”
“I’m seventy-five.”
She poured tea.
“Everyone is either disappointing or dead eventually.”
I liked her even more.
Nora stood in the garden.
I found her five minutes later.
“You should go.”
“If you want.”
She turned.
“That easy?”
“You hired me. You can fire me.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
“Why did you say yes?”
“To the fake boyfriend job?”
“Yes.”
I considered.
“You looked scared.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“And that makes you help strangers?”
“No.”
“Then why me?”
I could have said because she was beautiful.
Too easy.
“The way you laughed.”
She stared.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Nora said:
“I don’t want you threatening Miles.”
“Okay.”
“Or Charles.”
“Harder, but okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I heard you.”
“I need to fix this myself.”
That interested me.
“You can.”
“I don’t want another man deciding what happens to me.”
There it was.
Mother.
Miles.
Charles.
And potentially me.
I nodded.
“Then I don’t.”
She looked surprised.
“What?”
“I don’t decide.”
“You’re just going to leave?”
“If you tell me.”
Her eyes searched mine.
Then she looked toward the house.
“Not yet.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
“Don’t look pleased.”
“Impossible.”
She pointed at me.
“And no killing.”
“Very restrictive relationship.”
“It isn’t a relationship.”
“Right.”
“Fake boyfriend.”
“Until tonight.”
May you like
For some reason, neither of us liked that sentence.
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