As things went, the reading was relatively straight forward. Nearly all of Brian O’Connell’s assets went to Patricia as his surviving spouse. Both she and her daughter seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he hadn’t left much more than a small stipend to Lexi. Of course, thought Jack, they had no idea that Brian had Jack set up a fund in Lexi’s name years ago and had been making regular deposits. The result was a substantial amount to which no one else was privy. And if Jack had been adding a little himself here and there, well, he saw no harm in that. The result was a nice little nest egg that, in reality, surpassed the amount willed to Patricia and Kayla.
Lexi, however, didn’t know that. Jack’s admiration for her grew with each passing moment as the solicitor ticked off the items one by one. Not once did she give any indication that the terms of the will bothered her in the least. Her expression was thoughtful, her posture composed. Had it been the other way around, Jack was sure that the women facing them would not be conducting themselves with such grace. Lexi was Brian’s daughter, alright. Beautiful, like her mother, but strong, like her father.
Jack’s theories were tested shortly thereafter, and, as usual, he had been dead on. The lawyer waited until the end to drop the bombshell: Brian O’Connell had stipulated in his will that a small house and property on the outskirts of town was to go to his only daughter, Alexis, in the hopes that one day she would return to her roots.
For a few moments no one said anything. Lexi seemed just as shocked as the rest of them. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in surprise, offering the biggest reaction he’d seen from her thus far. Then Patricia started sobbing and Kayla’s face literally turned purple with rage. The lawyer did his best, reminding them that they had the much larger house and property in town, several vehicles, and hefty sums in bank accounts, stocks, and insurance. Unfortunately, all of his assurances did little to appease them.
“It’s alright, Mother,” Kayla said, patting her hand. “Surely she’s not going to keep it.” Kayla shot a challenging glance over Lexi’s way.
Lexi stiffened beside him. “And why not?”
“I would think that would be obvious.”
“Enlighten me.”
Kayla sat a little straighter. “You have no reason to stay, of course,” she said with a cold smile, daring Lexi to disagree.
Jack had never seen such a blatant display of pettiness and malice. “The hell she doesn’t!” he said forcefully. Lexi squeezed his hand. He looked at her in surprise. She was giving him reassurance. Had the situation not deteriorated so quickly he might have smiled.
“You know what, Kayla? I’m not really sure that’s true,” Lexi said slowly. “Being back in Pine Ridge these past few days, well, it’s made me realize how much I miss it. The clean, fresh mountain air. The dramatic change in seasons. And the people. Everyone has been so very nice and supportive.” She gave Jack a warm smile. “Especially Uncle Jack and the boys. They’ve been wonderful.”
The atmosphere in the room grew noticeably chillier. “I beg your pardon?” Patricia’s sobs became sniffles.
Lexi stood, squaring her shoulders. It was a slight movement, very graceful, but powerful. “You heard me. I don’t think I’ll let you run me out of town again just yet.” Turning to the lawyer, she said, “Mr. Williamson, have we finished?”
The solicitor’s eyes shined with approval and respect. “We have.”
“Then I thank you for all of your efforts. I’ll be in touch.” And then Lexi swept out of the office with the dignity and grace of royalty.
As they took their leave, Jack heard Patricia and Kayla arguing in earnest with the solicitor, but with more than a little exasperation in his voice, he explained that there was nothing he could do. Jack, however, was walking tall with a huge grin on his still-handsome face and pride just radiating from every pore in his body.
“Alexis, lass,” he said as he beamed at her, “I am going to treat you to the best steak dinner money can buy.”
*
Lexi’s head was spinning, the band of panic tightening around her chest. It was a good thing that Jack Callaghan was the old-fashioned, chivalrous type. He thought nothing unusual about the way she clung to his arm as he escorted her back to the Pub. He appeared to like it actually, patting her hand and telling her how proud he was in that heart-warming, old-country accent of his.
What the hell had she just done? Jack Callaghan was beaming at her like she’d just won the Nobel Prize, yet her legs felt so wobbly she wasn’t sure she could take the next step without his support. Luckily, Jack was too riled up to notice. Or if he did, he was too kind to say anything.
She had let her anger get the better of her. She blamed it on her inherently volatile Irish temper, the one she usually kept hidden well under the layers of discipline. The one over which she’d thought she had mastered control years ago.
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