Piers reaches for my hand underneath the table. “Breathe,” he leans over and whispers in my ear, his words tickling my skin.
Nodding, I open my eyes and turn towards him. His eyes meet mine, reassuring me with a just a look.
I’m still upset with him about Scarlett tampering with our night via mobile. It’s not my place to dictate who calls and texts him, nor how he handles his business. But it hurt nonetheless. Hurt isn’t even a strong enough word. It was such an emotional night, one where truths were told, and since she was behind some of the lies, it stung to have her invading the moment.
That was a couple weeks ago; the anger towards her hasn’t faded. But Piers...he doesn’t leave room for much anger because he assaults all my other senses and evokes too many other feelings, leaving anger low on the list.
It was wrong to blame him for her call, childish to jump to conclusions. He tried to apologize, but I explained it was the timing that made it worse. Today is the first day I’ve seen him, besides when we told Drew, three days ago. He’s been very busy at work, and I’ve also been trying to get some work done. I think we needed a couple days to breathe after everything that was said Sunday night.
Our gazes remain locked on one another as we wait. “You look beautiful by the way.” He breaks the silence.
“Piers.” Slightly taken aback, I look across the table where Piers’ attorney, Mr. Arthur, sits.
“Really, this dress is incredible.” His hand that was holding mine now slides up, caressing my thigh dangerously close to the hem of my little black dress.
I watch his face before glancing to Mr. Arthur who seems lost in what he’s reading.
“Thanks.” And I am thankful because I’m not nearly as nervous as I was. Now I’m embarrassed and slightly turned on.
“Piers.” A booming voice startles me, causing me to jump a little. Piers’ hand grips my leg firmly, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it to stand. “And you must be Willow.”
“Niall, great to see you!” Piers turns, reaching across the head of the table to shake hands with the man I’m assuming is Mr. Barrington. “Allow me the honor of introducing Ms. Willow Darling.” I stand, holding out my hand as he makes his way towards me.
He shakes my hand before pulling me into a bear hug, causing my eyes to go wide as I look at Piers in question. “I’m so honored to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Pulling back, he looks me in the eye. “Forgive my outburst. Wendy was a dear friend of mine. It’s lovely to finally meet you. She spoke so highly of you.” I notice he has warm brown eyes, kind eyes, and a jovial type disposition. The only part of him that fits my stuffy, old, British attorney expectation is his wardrobe, the three-piece tweed suit, bow tie and wire rim glasses.
“Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?” He takes his place at the head of the table. “Piers, I see you’ve brought your guard dog.” He reaches for Mr. Arthur’s hand. “How the hell are you, old chap?”
“Fine, Niall and you?” Mr. Arthur chuckles.
“Well enough,” he says, patting his large belly. “The wife has been after me to drop a few; had a heart scare a while back. But she won’t stop baking.” He shrugs before taking a seat, his face growing more somber.
“Willow, Piers, first off let me offer my deepest sympathies and condolences. I’m very sorry for your loss. Wendy was a light to all who knew her, and this world is a darker place in her absence.”
“Thank you.” My voice quivers, and Piers’ hand finds mine under the table once again, his touch soothing me as I take a deep breath, preparing myself.
“Now, Piers has told you that we already had a meeting, in regards, to the will?” I nod, and he continues. “At that reading, he was named as executor; Mr. Arthur was also present as was your uncle John N. Darling. Part of the reason this has been such a delicate situation is because of your uncle, James Black, falling ill. Wendy’s reading hadn’t been held at the time of his...episode. So, in normal instances when not otherwise specified, a person’s estate, in terms of all monies, property and assets, rightfully transfers to their spouse.”
“Okay.” I already knew that Piers was the executor. He had mentioned that, and I understand why, because he was here. I was confused why not James, but Piers had said Wendy didn’t want to take any chances that James would try to make changes after she was gone. She didn’t want emotions getting in the way of carrying out her wishes.
“But other than a few shared marital assets and the main banking, Wendy and James’ respective assets remained separate. So her will, regardless of whether he was still in perfect health, would be carried out the same as it is today. The shared assets and monies roll to James’ estate, just as if he were fine and sitting at this very table. It’s important that you understand, it was her wish for Piers to carry out the specific instructions of her will, and that included naming you as her heir. It was always her intention for you both to inherit Everlend estate, its accounts and any monies that were hers from the Darling family name. A few other items from the Darling family went to her living brother, John. Some specifically mentioned items were set aside for various named individuals who, from what I can tell, were mostly children who lived at Everlend at one time or another. There were no debts to speak of; she settled all those prior to passing, including medical expenses, funeral costs and legal fees. You will see all these items listed in detail on the provided paperwork. The Everlend estate itself doesn’t generate income, but she has left enough, set aside specifically to maintain the upkeep and keep those currently there in both residence and employ, being named as Anna L. Bishop and Chester E. Roderick.”
I know what I heard, I even knew to expect it. But this is so much information. I grip Piers’ hand tighter as he goes on.
“And so, as the will states, as it pertains to you, it was the last will and testament of Wendy Moira Darling Black, that Everlend estates, all its physical and financial assets and contents, except for items outlined in appendix c, be jointly left to Willow M. Darling and Piers A. Nichols. Regardless of whether it’s once again used to house those in need of a home or only as a private residence, both Willow and Piers must agree to not only live in London, but use the estate as their principle residence. This detail was very specific. If this contingency isn’t followed, I’m afraid the estate, along with its contents, less what’s specifically reassigned, will be left in the care of a selected charity, who would be advised to follow similar rules as far as keeping Mr. Roderick and Ms. Bishop. The main difference being, the organization would be required to reopen Everlend as a home for children. The funds also transfer with the estate. So, your inheritance would be reduced to what she has from the Darling family trust.”
I’m listening but not sure I’m hearing this correctly. “She left Everlend to me. And Piers. Jointly.” I repeat his words as if it’ll help them sink in. Piers’ hand stops moving on mine.
I knew it was a strong possibility, but I had been so saddened by grief, over losing her and then having Piers back in my life, distracted by the fact we were about to tell Drew about his father. I hadn’t thought much about the estate doing anything other than what it’s always done. “But we have to live there? Together?” Our hands remain touching but neither of us moving. My hand is frozen, as is my mouth; even my mind is having trouble. But my heart, it seems to be the only thing moving. And at warp speed. “Or my home—I mean Everlend— goes to...charity?” I look up at Mr. Barrington. Maybe I heard him wrong.
“Yes, and there is more,” he softly replies.
My heart rate increases, and my breathing becomes more rapid. Closing my eyes tightly, I think back. That’s why Anna called me mistress that day...because I’m now the mistress of the house. Tears prick my eyes as I fully come to terms with what this means. I knew I would have responsibilities, I knew there would be…things. I just didn’t know it would be all the things.
Everything.
I feel Piers’ thumb continue making circles on the bac
k of my hand as he comforts me through what could be a panic attack. I open my eyes and focus on Mr. Barrington, who has stopped speaking.
My gaze flicks back to Piers who nods at me. Taking a deep breath, I find my voice and address Mr. Barrington. “Please continue.”
“We already know what Wendy stipulated, what was to happen to her portions, regardless of James’ health. Those were in place long before she knew he would fall ill. In fact, she came in here to this office, nearly five years ago, and changed her will, transferring Everlend to you and Piers, jointly. James knew; it was no secret. He wasn’t entirely happy about Piers being named as the executor for that portion of her estate, but she wouldn’t be swayed. Then three years ago, James himself came in and also amended his will; he named Phoenix Andrew Nichols as his sole heir—” Piers gasps next to me. I look at him and see his mouth hanging open is shock. I’m also surprised, but I’m sure it’s Drew’s name that grabbed his attention more or the fact that our five-year-old just inherited two companies.
Mr. Barrington continues, “He was the heir if something were to happen to Wendy. In that case, Willow Darling would act as executor, in Wendy’s absence, until he reaches the legal age, and at which time all assets remain in a trust account until his twenty-fifth birthday. This included his personal company, BlackHouse, which has since been taken over by Mr. Nichols.” He pauses while I turn my head and see that Piers is still looking at me with a look I can’t explain. Mr. Barrington continues, drawing my attention back to him.
“Since this acquisition was fairly recent, he hadn’t yet had time to update the will, but I can assure you it’s still a fairly large stake as James still sat on the board at his company and was still acting as CEO, but Piers now owns the majority of shares. Since he had no other heirs, he wanted to maintain somewhat of a bloodline in terms of leaving his other business to a family member. His family company, called Black Water, the shipping business, founded by his grandfather in the early 1900’s, would also fall to young Drew. Again, James is still technically living, but since he never had time to switch these things after Wendy passed, that leaves you, Willow, to act as his trustee.”
I’m in utter shock. It’s one thing to inherit an estate that I know and love and grew up on, know what it stands for, and trust Anna and Mr. Roderick to help me. And Piers of course. But this is another thing.
I find my voice. “Everlend I understand. But James? I—Ugh...I’m not sure—I know nothing about his businesses.” I pull my hand from Piers’ and massage my temples. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to handle a company, err, two. And Drew. I mean. He’s just a child. This is a lot. What if he wants nothing to do with those businesses when he grows up? This is a lot of information. A lot of responsibility.”
“I understand. Willow, it is a lot,” the attorney explains. “There are options if you choose not to accept the terms. I’ll give you two a few minutes to talk. Martha will bring in some tea. Arthur, join me for a drink?” The two men leave the room, and I turn to Piers.
“You knew about this?” I question him, my sadness and shock on the verge of anger. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”
“You named our son after my father? After me? His initials are PAN? He’s already Nichols?” His voice is quiet, and he moves towards me.
“Don’t turn this around on me, answering a question with a question.” I stand and begin to pace as the assistant enters and sets down a tray of tea for us. “Thank you.”
She politely excuses herself, and I carry on. “You knew that it stipulated I would have to move here? And live with you?”
“Not exactly,” he sighs, putting his head in his hands. “I didn’t know for sure about the living arrangements. I was working on a way around it.”
“Oh, great. So you were trying to find a way to not live with me then?” My voice raises an octave, hurt plain as day on my face.
“No, of course not!” He stands and comes to me, pulling me into his arms. “I would love to be with you, day and night. I think we both know that. I knew that afternoon when I stood on your porch, and you opened the door, that I still wanted you. Even before Drew, even before you ripped my heart out, a second time, I still wanted you.” I fall into him, tears filling my eyes. “His name?”
“Yes, his name is Phoenix Andrew Nichols. He goes by Drew Darling, it was easier for us to have the same last name.” I try to explain while looking at his chest. “But his legal name is Phoenix, which he knows. And he knows Andrew is his middle name, he just doesn’t realize that he shares your surname.”
“I see,” He mutters into my hair.
“It was easier that way, safer,” I tell him. “I’m sorry, Piers.”
“Sorry, why are you sorry?” He draws back and looks down at me. “I’m honored that he shares my name. That you let me have that. You just didn’t say anything, the other night...when we told him.”
“I wanted to explain it, without Drew hearing. I was going to tell you.”
His eyes shimmer with emotion. “Where does the Phoenix come from?”
“It represents rising from the ashes, and it was my hope — he was my hope — that something beautiful came from our tragic ending. He was a symbol of our love.” I blink back tears. “And it was a P name.” I smile and a tear falls down my cheek, which he brushes away with his thumb.
“It’s a perfect name.” He whispers, touching his forehead to mine. “I thought maybe Drew was from Andrew but didn’t ask. And I assumed his name was Darling.” He releases a sigh. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.” He holds me tight, and I never want to leave his arms.
“Knock, knock.” The attorneys are back. “Willow, I know this is a lot of information, and I’ll answer any questions that you might have. You’re free to obtain your own representation, or Mr. Arthur here or myself can assist you. I know this is a decision that cannot be taken lightly, and you may want to sleep on it.” I nod, Piers still holding me from behind. “Very well, I’ll give you all this paperwork, and let’s set up a time, one week from today to resume this?”
“Thank you.” I tell him.
“One more thing,” he adds as he gathers papers, putting them in a box. “It’s important for you to know that Piers isn’t listed jointly because you have to have a male to inherit property. This isn’t about bloodline or a hierarchy by any archaic standards. This was a private residence. Her reasons are hers and hers alone and have nothing to do with that. Plus you’re entitled to solely own; you have citizenship having been technically born here, even though your mother was American. There are some sealed letters she wanted you to have that might better explain her wishes, a couple for you and some for the others. I trust you will deliver them accordingly.” He puts the lid on the box. “Good luck, Willow. Piers, we’ll be in touch. Arthur, let’s get together for a game soon.” And with that, he scoots the box towards me.
“Thank you sir.” I tell him, my eyes never leaving the white cardboard that is the sum of someone’s life. The ending of one, and the beginning of another. How much power that little box contains.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WILLOW
As I approach the large, red, brick building, I see that the brass plaque on the glossy black door reads, Gracewell House. I press the brass bell. This must be the place. The girl on the phone explained this particular care home prides itself on its luxury and discretion so there wouldn’t be a sign out front advertising its purpose. Looking around, I see how right she was. It looks like a rather large private estate, complete with sprawling gardens and a black, iron gate that has a guard.
I wave to Piers’ driver who sits in the car waiting, even though I told him it may be a while. He nods politely in response. Since being here, Piers has insisted on having a driver transport Drew and me which, if I’m being honest, is probably not a bad thing. I learned to drive here, but I’m so out of practice. He also said it’s for safety, given his status and that of James, it’s an extra precaution. For when he can’t be
with us.
The door opens, and I’m greeted by a lovely young lady, wearing a white nurse’s dress with a pale green cardigan. “Welcome to Gracewell.” She invites me in, closing the door behind us. “Are you here to visit someone?”
“Yes, actually.” I clear my throat. “James Black.” I’m not sure why I’m here. It just felt like the right thing to do.
“Okay, we just need to stop at the desk and have you show your identification.” She smiles at me and gestures for me to follow her. She moves very elegantly, not making a sound. This place is like a museum.
“Here we are.” We stop at a desk, and I pull out my wallet and hand my ID to the older lady behind the desk. “Guest for Mr. Black.”
“Thank you.” She hands my ID back. “You only have to do that the first time. From now on when buzzed in, you may go directly to your relative.” She has a soft voice, but her face is slightly stern. I nod in understanding. “Gretchen, you may take her back now.”
“Mr. Black is right this way. He’s in the North wing,” she tells me quietly as I follow after her. “It’s extremely private with only a handful of residents currently occupying it.” She stops walking and turns to me. “I tell you this because it’s terribly important you don’t knock on any of the other doors or bother any other patients.”
After I nod, we resume walking. After walking past a large formal dining hall and passing what appears to be a music room, we take a left and walk down a corridor. “Take another left, and Mr. Black will be down on the end, suite thirty-eight. You should know he doesn’t get many visitors, also that he’s not very responsive. He has good days and bad days, but for the most part, he is catatonic.”
“Okay. Can you tell me, if I may ask, how did he end up here? He’s my uncle, and I know he was brought here after my aunt passed. But by whom, I’m not sure. A doctor perhaps?”
“Well, since you’re family, I can tell you that his doctors recommended some type of care home since they aren’t exactly sure what caused his illness or when he might come out of it. A hospital wasn’t entirely necessary, but being at home with a home nurse wasn’t enough monitoring. This is a state of the art place to receive the care he needs while maintaining his privacy during this difficult time. It’s the best facility of its type and has a long waiting list, but Mr. Nichols is friends with one of our board members and they accommodated him.”
Happy Ever Never (Written in the Stars Book 1) Page 11
