The office was exactly what widow Carly Porter Hughes had expected from a small-town attorney. Wood paneling, thick carpets, massive desk and walls lined with legal books. It had been designed to instill trust and confidence in those who entered, none of which she was feeling at the moment. Nathan Holt came around his desk, greeting her with a smile and a firm handshake before smiling down at her six-year-old daughter, Ella.
Carly hugged Ella close to her side. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing her along. I had no one to leave her with.”
“Certainly not. In fact, I have some books over here she can look at while we talk business.”
With Ella settled in, Carly took a seat in front of the desk, smoothed the front of her gray skirt, then clasped her hands tightly in her lap. The reading of the will. The whole situation seemed surreal. She never expected to be back in Hastings, Mississippi, and she certainly hadn’t expected to inherit anything from her father. They hadn’t spoken in years. Mostly she resented the demand for her presence at the reading.
Carly swallowed past the tightness in her throat. All she wanted to do was get through this ordeal and head back to Atlanta, where she belonged. “Can we get started, Mr. Holt? I’m anxious to get back home.”
Holt nodded slowly. “I understand, but we’re waiting for the other beneficiary to arrive. He should be here any moment.”
“Other beneficiary?” Who in the world could he be talking about? She had no siblings, and only a very distant cousin she’d never even met. She started to ask who it was when the door opened behind her and Holt stood, a welcoming smile on his round face.
“Ah, there you are. Have a seat, Mr. Bridges, and we’ll get started.”
Carly’s heart skipped a beat. No. It couldn’t be. She turned her head to the side and her gaze traveled up the long length of the man who had entered. Her gaze collided with his and her mind hiccupped. Mackenzie Bridges. The last person on earth she wanted to see.
He held her gaze, a hint of amusement lifting one side of his mouth. “Hello, Carly.” He took the seat beside her and crossed his long legs.
It took her longer than it should have to find her voice. Mack had changed. He’d be thirty-four now, two years older than her, and the years had been very kind to him. The tall slender boy she remembered had grown into a very handsome man. His six-foot frame had developed a pair of broad shoulders that spoke of his strength. His dark brown hair, once so long and careless, was now trimmed neatly, wavy enough so it invited a woman to run her fingers through it. His sky blue eyes still held a perpetual sparkle, and his crooked smile was still very much in evidence and hadn’t lost any of its charm. “You’re the other beneficiary?”
“It appears so.”
She should have known. Her father had always loved Mack, his surrogate son, more than her.
Holt opened the file and Mack leaned forward, looking over at Ella. “Yours?”
“Yes.” Carly tried to not look at him, but he was still very hard to ignore. Dressed in dark slacks and a pale blue shirt, he looked professional. Not like the jeans-and-T-shirt-wearing boy she remembered. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she refocused. She wanted to get through the reading and go home. Holt began explaining about the unusual nature of the will, which sent a small frisson of concern along her nerves.
“To my daughter, Carly Porter Hughes, I leave the Longleaf Lodge and all its contents.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. This was the first light at the end of the dark financial tunnel she’d been in for the last few years. Things had been hard enough after her husband had died, but the addition of Ella’s surgery had only made things worse.
“To my dear friend, Mackenzie Scott Bridges, I leave all the land on which Longleaf Lodge sits, including the cabins, canoe livery, pool and campgrounds.”
Mack rubbed his forehead. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why not divide it up equally between us?”
Holt peered over his glasses. “There’s more.”
He read a long passage of legalese that left Carly more confused than ever. “I’m sorry, but could you just spell it out for me.”
The attorney sighed, removed his glasses and then leaned back in his chair. “Basically it comes down to this. Neither of you can sell your portion of the estate unless both agree. You are required to live at the lodge for the next two months, reopen the business and run it for the duration of this agreement. At the end of that time if you haven’t agreed to either keep the estate and continue to run it jointly or mutually agreed to sell, then the estate will be put up for auction and the proceeds given to charity.”
Carly’s mind was reeling. “Can he do this? We either follow his dictates or we get nothing?”
“I’m afraid so. I understand this is an unusual situation, but I assure you it’s all legal. Of course, if you both agree to sell, we can start that