“You two been here long?” Ryan looked to Justin, who shook his head, then he turned to me.
“About ten minutes.”
“Gotcha.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, obviously sensing the tension.
Brianna sat beside Justin. “How are you feeling?” she said in a hushed tone. “Jameson said you passed out on his couch last night.”
Justin’s eyes found mine as if he were daring me to judge. But hey, to each their own. Whatever way he wanted to celebrate—or mourn, I guess—Harry’s life, that was entirely up to him.
“Yeah? Well, Jameson’s got a big mouth.”
Brianna smirked. “Does he? Maybe I’ll have to take a closer look.”
“Not on your life.” Justin rubbed his forehead. “Now stop talking.”
Brianna chuckled and then looked at me. “Did you end up finding Wilhelmina’s last night?”
“You’re staying at Willa’s?” Ryan asked.
“He isss,” Brianna said. “Guess who told him about it? Laurel.”
I looked between the two of them with a frown. “She was hosting Harry’s wake—she was kind of hard to avoid.”
Brianna’s dark eyes all but twinkled. “Mhmm, sure.”
“Okay, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking right now. I ran into her and asked where a good place to stay was. I can’t believe that bed and breakfast is that old, broken-down, creepy place. It looks amazing.”
Ryan nodded. “Willa did a great job.”
“She said you did most of it.”
“No way. It was a joint effort. She needed the help.”
“Five years’ worth, apparently.”
Brianna snorted at my comment, and Justin decided to chime in. “What’d you two do all night, talk and give each other a manicure?”
“No,” I replied. “We met when I was checking in. I think she was trying to be friendly and make me feel welcome.”
“Or she was checking you out, since she’s Laurel’s best friend and she’s heard rumors that you’re an asshole.”
Okay, I didn’t know that. But before that could even compute, I backtracked to his last comment. “Rumors?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Justin shoved to his feet and pushed a hand through his hair. “Does it always have to be about you? So you’re back, you saw your ex—which, by the way, you must be kicking yourself over for leaving, because Laurel is hot—and now you want to know what’s been said about you since you’ve been gone? Who cares? You left when you were a teenager and now you’re older and wear preppy suits. Get over yourself.”
Ryan stepped between the two of us about to try to calm things down, but Mom stepped out of the room she’d disappeared into earlier and looked at the four of us. “Is there something the matter out here?”
Brianna quickly got to her feet and stepped in front of us, shaking her head. “No. We were all just chatting about how good it is to have Noah back.”
“No we weren’t,” Justin said.
“I’m not back,” I said.
Brianna aimed a death glare over her shoulder at us, and it was so effective that I felt it in my bones. For a seventeen-year-old, she sure had no problem standing up to two grown-ass men—not that we were acting like it.
“Well, if you’re done, they’re ready for us,” Mom said.
I wasn’t sure what it was about her clipped tone, but the second I heard it, I immediately felt like a teenager again.
We headed into the room she indicated, and in the center was a large conference table. At the head was a balding man in a brown tweed coat who had a slew of paperwork in front of him, and off to his left sat a red-headed woman dressed in a prim black blouse. She had a matching pair of glasses that sat perched on her nose, and as we walked in and took our seats, they looked up from their paperwork to see who had just joined them.
“Welcome, welcome,” the man said as he half stood to greet us. “Please sit wherever you like.”
Not surprisingly, Justin moved to the opposite side of the table to Ryan and myself, and, seeming to want to keep the peace, Brianna went with him. When Mom took a seat at the far end of the table, the man took a quick look around and offered up what could only be called a grim smile.
That didn’t bode well. Not considering what we were all here for. I looked at Ryan and shook my head. I had a feeling that whatever was about to happen was going to be typical Harry. And by that, I mean fucked up in every way possible.
“Let me start by introducing the two of us. I’m John Ackerman, and this is Abigail Fairmont. I am your mother and father’s attorney, and Abigail here is their accountant. We’ve been working with them for nearly ten years now on both business and personal matters, and today we’ve brought you all together, as instructed by Harry for when he passed away.”
“Okay,” Justin said, looking at Mom. “We’re all here, even the missing son over there. So now what?”
“Justin, please,” she said, and reached out to pat his arm. “Have a little patience. We have some paperwork we need go through, and then this will all be over.”
“It’s actually a little bit more than that,” John said, and that gnawing feeling in my gut turned into a sharp knife twisting through my insides. “Harry, your husband and their father, made some changes in the last couple of months of his life.”
Mom sat up a little straighter and drew her hands back from the table to clutch at her purse. “What kind of changes?”
John looked at the paperwork in front of himself and flicked through several pages. “Some…stipulations to the first draft he drew up with you.”
“Stipulations?” Brianna said. “What does that mean? I thought everything automatically went to Mom.”
John smiled, but it was a tight, tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, his personal assets were all left to your mother. However, the business—”
“He divided up between the four of
