by Carol Henry
“I don’t understand. What do you mean I don’t have access to the accounts?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. McClintock, the only account I can help you with is the joint account with your name on it. Your name is not on any of the other accounts Sebastian set up.”
“But I’m his wife! Sebastian is dead. Doesn’t that give me the right to them?”
Her own account wasn’t substantial enough to garner a loan even if she had wanted to purchase an old fishing hut out in the middle of the ocean.
“Not necessarily. One of the accounts is a joint account with someone else.”
“What?” Juelle’s head shot up. “Who?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Tempest had the grace to look embarrassed and sympathetic. She didn’t want sympathetic. She wanted answers.
“If his mother’s name is on the account, I understand. Or did he put Makenzie’s name on one?”
That would make sense in a weird sort of way. At least he had taken care of his daughter’s future.
“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about the loan. If you had more collateral, I could approve it today.”
“I’m sorry, too. Is there anyone else I can talk to who can give me that information?”
“Honey, I don’t think you want to go there. Why not just let it alone.” Tempest lowered her eyes, fumbled with the papers in front of her as if she were so engrossed in its contents she forgot she had a client in the room.
What the hell was this woman talking about? Why should she let it alone? What was the big secret? Oh, no! Did Sebastian have a separate account with Nora Spears’ name on it? Nora had said Sebastian planned to divorce her and marry Nora. Had he been planning this all along? Been setting money aside just for them?
Juelle’s head shot up. She stared, unseeing, into Tempest’s compassionate eyes, her own mind buzzing with anger. She shoved her chair back from the table, and stood, her purse up over her shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides. Her insides shook with the implication of what that meant. Sebastian had loved Nora Spears and had planned to leave her for the other woman. Why he hadn’t ask for a divorce, she didn’t know, would never know, but it would have been better than having Tempest Yarbrough know and have kept his secret. How many others in Lobster Cove were privy to information about his affair? If Nora’s cohorts knew, it was a safe bet everyone who had been at the funeral and witnessed Nora’s outburst knew, too. Which meant the entire town was also aware.
“I am sorry, Juelle. There is no way I could have told you. It wasn’t my place. If there is anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”
“I have to let Jessica Martin know I can’t afford the house.”
Juelle stepped out into the hot afternoon heat. Sweat trickled down her back. She wanted to scream. She hadn’t seen that one coming. What other secrets did Sebastian take to the grave with him?
She crossed Second Street and walked across the park where the large white tent was being set in place for the Oil and Water Art Festival that was taking place for the Father’s Day weekend. The event was designed to showcase Maine’s arts and artists, cohosted by the gallery owners. Lincoln Shattuck was the driving force behind the event. This year, Ginny Brent, a guest judge from New Hampshire was slated to be on hand. The tent would be filled with paintings and sculptures, with other local high-end crafters spread out around town.
Juelle had planned to attend the event, but now her heart wasn’t in it. She found her way around the activity to a secluded bench surrounded by two huge rhododendrons closer to Oak Avenue. Their lavish rounded blooms of shaded lavender covered the entire bush, but their beauty did little to warm her heart. Bees buzzed in drunken ecstasy as they sucked at the pollen. Juelle sat, lips pinched, hands clasping the edge of the wooden bench, her mind stuck in neutral, going nowhere. Tears threatened.
What the hell was she going to do now? How was she ever going to be able to afford to move out of the McClintock Estate?
****
Hunter walked out of Sweet Bea’s with an extra-large coffee, and a meat pie he was assured was a favorite of the tourists, as well as the locals. He crossed the street to the park intent on finding a bench where he could sit and try to make some sense of the strong magnetism Juelle McClintock had on his psyche. He had been sucker-punched the first time he laid eyes on her, and his feelings had escalated. And after the time he’d spent with her and Makenzie this morning, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
He downed the meat pie in four bites, followed it down with coffee, and made his way across Oak Avenue. And damned if Juelle wasn’t sitting on one of the benches shaded by two maples and surrounded by purple rhododendrons, as if she was trying to hide from the world. He drew closer, her sadness evident in the downcast face, the white knuckles grasping the bench, her stillness. He almost didn’t want to disturb her, but the woman had a way of having his heart catch every time he looked at her, let alone being within the same time zone—or thinking of her. He gulped his coffee as he continued across the lawn, and made an effort to calm his beating heart. What the hell had happened between the time they’d had lunch at Jordan Pond and now to put her in such a funk?
“I take it things didn’t go well at the bank?” He approached, wanting to lean down and wipe away her tears—his heart ached for her.
She looked up in surprise, brushed her fingers over her cheeks, and then scooted aside, an invitation for him to sit. He didn’t hesitate.
“That’s putting it mildly,” she sniffed. “I wish I’d had the gumption to divorce Sebastian months ago, instead of waiting.”
“What’d he do now? Clean out the accounts?” It was almost a joke, but the more he considered it, the more he came to the conclusion that it would be something the cheat would do.
“That would almost be preferable. No, he had a separate account with Nora Spear’s name on it. I can’t touch it, nor his other accounts until his holdings are cleared. I’m sure Mr. Jordan will handle this, as well. Mr. Jordan happens to be ‘the’ family lawyer.”
“I’m so sorry, Juelle. I didn’t mean to make a joke of it. I wasn’t thinking.” He set the coffee on the bench, and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her into his chest. Her understated perfume, the fresh scent of coconut shampoo, and baby powder had his insides melting, and other parts of him growing hard at the same time. He didn’t care if Sebastian was his half-brother, he hated him at this very moment. More than he even hated his father. He almost wished his mother had remarried and changed his last name. He wasn’t proud to be a McClintock right now.
He helped her sit back on the bench and wished he could take all her hurt away, take her away from all this. He kissed the top of her head, tilted her head on his shoulder, and kept his arm around her. Damn it, if they weren’t in the wide open spaces in the middle of the park with men erecting tents, he’d kiss her like he meant it—like he had up on Cadillac Mountain. The woman had stolen his heart.
He held his breath as she wrapped her arms around his ribs and snuggled deeper. He let her, even though the grip on his own restraints dwindled—fast. No woman had ever gotten to him like this—he’d guarded his heart for so long, and he had to come all the way to Lobster Cove to have it ripped wide open.
He ran his fingers through her hair, silky soft, the sun shining on it like spun burnish gold. He gathered her closer. She slid next to him, their hips just about overlapping. Any closer and she’d be on his lap, which wouldn’t upset him in the least.
“And on top of that,” she hiccupped. “I don’t have enough collateral to get a loan to cover the cost of the house.”
“Have you checked with your mother-in-law? Do you think she would co-sign for a loan?”
“Not in this lifetime.” She sat up, pulled a tissue from her purse, and wiped her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all over your shirt.”
“It’ll dry. Are you going to be okay?”
“At least I’m not homeless. I doubt Eugenia will kick me a
nd Makenzie out of the house until I can find something. Deep down, I don’t think she’s that heartless.”
Her smile warmed his heart.
“I keep thinking about her background. If she was a foster child and was shifted from home to home, I doubt she’d be up to seeing her own granddaughter homeless.”
His heart swelled. Not only did she have the stamina to deal with difficult situations and still find the good in others, she was a survivor. He helped himself to the kiss he hadn’t been able to get out of his head all day. To hell with anyone catching them at it. The woman had been cheated on, her husband was deceased, and she needed to know someone found her desirable. And hell, she was way more than just desirable. She was a slice of heaven sent down from above just for him. His heart fluttered. He’d have to be careful or he’d find himself caring for her more than he should.
“Maybe things will ease up after your father-in-law’s will is read. Did Sebastian leave a will?”
How the hell was she going to cope on her own if she couldn’t even secure a loan for a home?
“No. There is no will that I’m aware of. It doesn’t make much difference. Sebastian didn’t own anything except his car, and the bank accounts. Tempest Yarbrough at the bank didn’t think there was enough to cover a mortgage. But you have a point. I’ll make an appointment with Mr. Jordan and contact Jessica Martin, explain the situation, see if she’ll give me a little more time.”
Chapter Nine
Hunter sat at the far end of the oblong table in the simply appointed conference room in anticipation of Günter Jordan reading his father’s will. Eugenia McClintock sat at the opposite end, next to Mr. Jordan, and Juelle found a seat across from them. He didn’t want to be here—it was like opening a can of worms that turned out to be full of viperous snakes. Eugenia’s confident smile as she faced Juelle across the table was annoying. His heart ached for Juelle, the silent anticipation must be hell for her, having to face these people after the punch in the gut at the bank yesterday. Had she told her mother-in-law about her ass-hole son’s further deception? His blood boiled, but he tamped his anger down. This was not the time or place to act out. It would only make it harder on Juelle.
Günter Jordan cleared his throat and addressed the three of them.
“Thank you all for coming and being on time. There are a few preliminaries to get out of the way before we get to the main portion of Hunt’s wishes.”
“We can dispense with all those boring details Günter—just get on with the important particulars.”
Günter met Hunter’s eyes across the room. Hunter nodded in agreement. The lawyer turned to Juelle, who also nodded.
“All right then. Hunt McClintock was adamant he recognize his son Hunter McClintock from a previous marriage to one Lani Aka McClintock, and was unwavering that in order to make amends, she be mentioned in his last requests.”
“NO!” Eugenia jumped from her chair. “I won’t hear of it. It’s not true. He is not Hunt’s son! This woman has not been in his life all these years! I have.”
“Sit down, Eugenia,” Günter raised his voice, his face pinched, as if he was disappointed in her outburst. “I’m not finished.”
Eugenia sat, her hands going to the region where her heart was supposed to be, her face turning a pasty shade of white. The woman had a point, however, it was his mother she’d referred to and he took exception to this heartless woman’s outburst. He kept quiet, and waited to see what else Mr. Jordan had to say.
“Now then. Where was I?” The lawyer shuffled the papers in front of him. “Here it is. Lani Aka McClintock is to receive a lump sum in the amount of $500,000.”
Eugenia gasped. Hunter shook his head. His mother would be surprised at the amount of her inheritance. He glanced over at Juelle. She was observing her mother-in-law with concern—her own face pale, drawn. Dammit it. Hadn’t Juelle suffered enough? How could he make this right for her?
“I have here two letters. One for Hunter, and one for Hunt’s first wife Lani.”
He handed two separately sealed envelopes to Hunter. Hunter took them and tucked them in his shirt pocket.
“Now. To Eugenia, my second wife,” Jordan continued. “I leave the McClintock Estate, which includes its contents, grounds, and a two million dollar trust sufficient to maintain the estate and support her for the rest of her life.”
Eugenia sat silent. Her eyes glued to the lawyer.
When no one commented, Günter Jordan pressed on. “As for the business of McClintock and McClintock Lobster Company, located at Pier One, Lobster Cove, Maine, and all the assets connected with the business, they are to be controlled my son Hunter McClintock, of Oahu, Hawaii, and Sebastian McClintock of Lobster Cove, Maine.”
Sebastian’s mother turned blue from holding her breath. He could see the implications of what the lawyer just imparted—with Sebastian out of the picture, one of two things would unfold. He held his tongue waiting to see what would transpire next.
“Obviously, Hunt didn’t anticipate Sebastian’s early demise. As Sebastian did not have a will, then his portion of his inheritance goes to his wife.”
Her mother-in-law shot out of her chair again.
“I protest.” She pounded her fists on the table. “I want to contest this will. Hunt wasn’t in his right mind when he made this up.”
“Eugenia, I can assure you Hunt McClintock was in his right mind when he sat down with me and drew up his will. You might want to rethink your request. Why don’t you have a drink of water, sit down, and let me finish.”
Thankfully, the lawyer had a smidgen of control over the distraught woman. She complied, and sat back in her chair. Still, her complexion remained chalky.
“Now, as I was saying. Hunt has provided a college trust fund for Makenzie and a small annual stipend drawn from several of his stocks for Juelle in order to provide a home and family life for her and her daughter. However, there is a stipulation. If Juelle should ever remarry, she will no longer have access to the stipend, but the trust fund for Makenzie will continue until the child finishes college.”
Tears formed in Juelle’s eyes—he wanted to go to her, pull her into his arms, and drag her out of there. But, after the conversation they’d had yesterday at the park in regards to her bank accounts, he sensed those tears were tears of joy. She could now afford to put a purchase offer on the house on Aspen Avenue.
Eugenia found her voice. She glared at the lawyer and pointed her finger at him. “I mean it, Günter, I am contesting Hunt’s will. No way is that imposter going to take over a company Hunt worked hard to make a success.”
“Please. I don’t want to see you get hurt by doing this, Eugenia. But if you are adamant, I have no recourse but to set in motion an action you might not want to me to take.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I insist you abide by my request. This man is only here to collect on something he has no right to. My Sebastian is the one who gave his life for this company—took that boat out in order to make a living for the company’s sake. Not that man.” Her pointed finger transferred to Hunter’s face.
Günter Jordan took a very deep breath, drank half the water in his tall glass, and then shuffled the papers in the folder he’d been reading from. He cleared his throat again, looked around the room, and then settled his gaze on Eugenia.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Again, I caution you. You might want to reconsider.”
“Günter!”
Hunter shook his head. When he glanced across the table at Juelle, he found her looking a bit shell-shocked at her mother-in-law’s actions and caustic tone.
Günter Jordan cleared his throat, and read. “In the occasion of anticipating my wife, Eugenia, contesting my will, I request the attached note be read to those assembled.” Again the lawyer cleared his throat, fidgeted with the paper he held in his hands, and then finished the water in front of him. He glanced at Eugenia, shook his head, and continued.
Eugenia gasped, slumped forward—her head hit the table. Juelle was around the end of the table so fast Hunter’s head spun.
“Call 911,” Juelle screamed. “Oh, my God. She’s having a heart attack. Hunter, hurry.”
Günter was at Eugenia’s side in a heartbeat—before Hunter finished punching in the call on his cell phone. The lawyer drew Eugenia into his arms—his ministrations gentle. He held Eugenia against his chest while he checked for a heartbeat—his concern and distress beyond impersonal. Hunter had an idea there was more to the couple’s friendship than just a business acquaintance.
Hunter ushered Juelle from the room, and out to the sidewalk to wait for the ambulance. They didn’t have long to wait.
“Hi, Juelle. What’s going on here?” The driver jumped from the vehicle as two paramedics opened the back doors and dragged a gurney out.
“Looks like Eugenia might have had a heart attack. She passed out.” Juelle introduced Hunter to Sheila Kidman, and the two shook hands.
“Where’s Eugenia?” Sheila walked to the back of the ambulance.
“She’s in the conference room.”
“Boy, she sure has had some bad luck lately. What happened?”
Juelle kept pace with Sheila as they followed the two paramedics.”
“She’s been under a lot of stress, as you know, what with Hunt dying a year ago, and now Sebastian. She got all worked up over a few of her husband’s bequeaths when Mr. Jordan read Hunt’s will. I hope she isn’t having a heart attack.”
“Well, you just stay calm now, and we’ll get her checked over real fast. The hospital is just around the corner, but we’ll get an EKG going as soon as we settle her in the van. I’ll call ahead and they’ll get the STEMI alert in place.”
