Chapter 3

• 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.
• “Might we have a moment, Mr. Porter?” Mum asked, almost making me jump.
• Wow.
• Who knew it was my mild case of panic that would make her speak today?
• “Of course. I’ll be back in five minutes,” he said, standing up. “Regrettably, I have another appointment shortly after.”
• “Thank you,” Mum said, watching as the man left his own office for us, then turned around. “Dad wanted you to have it,” she told me softly, pushing her hair away from her face. “He knew how much you loved the place as a child, and he thought you might be able to give it the love and attention it needs.”
• “But you pretty much grew up there, Mum. It was a bigger part of your life than mine,” I said, taking her hand.
• “I agreed with him.” Her lips formed a small smile. “I don’t want to take that on, Lottie. I’m sixty this year—I’m too old for all that nonsense. I’d just have to hire someone else to run it or give it to you anyway, and Grandpa already tried that after he moved. It was too stressful, you know that.”
• “I don’t know how to run it,” I repeated. “And renovations? I don’t know the first thing about that!”
• “We’ll be here,” Dad said reassuringly.
• “What do you mean?”
• “Your father’s military pension is generous, and I can work remotely,” Mum explained. “We’re going to sell the house and move back here.”
• I stared at them both. “Wow. This day just keeps getting worse.”
• She laughed lightly, squeezing my fingers. “Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I should have told you before what his plans were. I understand this is blindsiding you.”
• Blindsided? Me? By all this? No, surely not. Not me. I was fine. This was fine. Everything was fine.
• Thank God that little tangent stayed in my head.
• “A little bit, yeah,” was what I actually said.
• “Why don’t we go back to the house and get something to eat before the wake this evening?” Dad suggested. “There’s plenty of food there from the neighbours, and we can always head over to The Ivy to see what kind of state it’s in. I suspect your grandpa left you that money to spend on it.”
• “I don’t… I… okay,” I finally said, a little helplessly.
• That’s how I felt.
• Helpless.
• Talk about your life being turned upside down in a matter of hours.
• “Wait, what about my job? I can’t just quit!” I said, looking at Mum.
• “Of course you can,” she replied blithely, sitting back in the chair. “Your boss is an absolute bastard. Just tell him you aren’t coming back, and he can suck it.”
• I stared at her. “I can’t say that!”
• “Sure you can. What’s the rat-bastard going to do, drive all the way here to make you work your one-week notice? You’ve been trying to find a new job anyway, so here you go.” She made a sweeping motion towards the desk with the will with one arm. “And it has the added bonus that you won’t have to live with your parents anymore. That’s a win-win for everyone here.”
• Dad’s lips curved into a smile. “She’s right. You are always complaining about both those things.”
• “All right,” I grumbled, adjusting the skirt of my dress. “You might have a point.”
• “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Dad asked, looking at me with concern. “You said yourself that you have no idea what you’re looking at.”
• I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m still feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all,” I admitted. “I think I’ll just go, have a look around, and maybe we can all go tomorrow or something?”