‘Maybe I’ll feel like that one day in the far, far future, but for now, I think I’ll stay pissed off at the world.’
Before long, they were in the hotel’s stretch limo on their way to the solicitor’s office. Lauren stared out the window, watching the world go by in a blur, her mind a million miles away as Jake chatted animatedly with her mother. It was obvious he thought it was his payday for some strange reason. Oliver and Sydney sat quietly, his arm around her, providing the comfort she needed.
The car soon pulled up to the building, and they all got out, trailing in front of one another as they entered the building and were shown to the solicitor’s room. This was it, the moment she’d been dreading, the final nail in the coffin of her grief. Gran’s will, the last echoes of her voice, the last wishes of a life well-lived.
The solicitor, a balding man with kind eyes, cleared his throat and began to read. Lauren barely heard him, the legal jargon washing over her like white noise. She stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap, trying to breathe through the tightness in her throat.
And then, a phrase cut through the haze, sharp and clear. ‘To my granddaughter, Lauren . . .’
Lauren’s head snapped up.
The solicitor continued, his voice gentle. ‘. . . I leave my Cotswold property, Rosewood Cottage, in the hopes that she’ll find peace and happiness there, a safe haven of her own.’
The words hit Lauren like a physical blow. A property? In the countryside? She’d had no idea, no inkling that Gran had kept such a secret.
Jake, who had been silent until now, spoke up. ‘Are you sure it’s just for Lauren? Why wasn’t it left to us as a family?’
The solicitor cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. ‘Rosewood Cottage, as mentioned in the will, was purchased only a few weeks ago. It appears she kept it quite separate from her other assets. She specifically stated that the property was for Lauren and Lauren alone.’
Sydney bristled beside Lauren, her hand tightening on her arm. ‘Gran knew what she was doing, Jake,’ she said, her voice low and controlled. ‘If she left the cottage to Lauren, it’s because she wanted her to have it.’
‘She must not have been thinking clearly,’ Jake said.
The solicitor held up a hand, his expression firm. ‘I assure you, Mrs Deville was of sound mind when she made these decisions. The will is ironclad. Her wishes were very clear.’
‘Well, regardless, we are married so it’s half mine anyway.’ Jake sneered.
An uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the shuffling of papers, the ticking of the clock on the wall.
The surprises kept coming. Her shares of the hotel were split between Oliver and Sydney, which meant they’d have a larger say in how things were run, a vote of confidence from beyond the grave. As the solicitor’s words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room. Lauren could feel the tension radiating from her parents. Her mother’s lips tightened, a flash of something like betrayal in her eyes.
‘And I’m supposed to just let Sydney and Oliver have partial control of the decision making?’
Lauren met her gaze, unflinching. ‘Why don’t we respect what Gran wanted. She trusted them, and so do I.’
Lauren glanced at Sydney, saw the tears in her eyes, the bittersweet mixture of sorrow and gratitude. Her jewellery, she left to Eleanor, apart from her engagement and wedding ring, which she left for Lauren, ‘in case she should ever need them again’.
Jake’s face reddened at hearing this, and for the first time since that dreadful day, Lauren smiled. She knew her gran was still around, watching over her.
Jake was left out of the will. For Ben, she had set up a trust fund, and the rest of her estate went to several charities.
The solicitor cleared his throat, breaking the moment. ‘If there are no further questions, I believe we can conclude . . .’
His words faded into the background as Lauren’s mind drifted, already miles away. To the cottage, to the promise of solace, of a chance to regroup. Sydney’s hand on her arm brought her back to the present moment.
‘We’re not leaving,’ Sydney said, her voice rough with emotion. ‘The hotel, it’s Gran’s legacy. We’ll stay, we’ll make it work. We’ll make her proud.’
Lauren nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The lump in her throat felt like it might choke her.
‘I think . . .’ Lauren’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard and tried again. ‘I think I’m going to go to the cottage. Just for a while. And I’m going to take Ben with me.’
‘Can I make a suggestion? Leave Ben here with me while you go and sort your head out. It’ll be better for him if he has other things to do to keep busy. I promise, I’ll bring him down to see you at the weekends.’
Lauren was about to decline, then she thought of Ben, of the shadows under his eyes, the weight on his young shoulders. Sydney was right. The last thing he needed was to be holed up in a house with his grieving mother.
She would go to Rosewood, alone.
She would find her way. And she would come back, stronger, steadier, ready to face whatever life had in store.
But for now . . .
For now, she would take this gift, this chance at peace.
And she would hold onto it with both hands.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There was a gentle tap on the door, interrupting Rain as she was just finishing up an email. She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, and looked up.
‘Come in,’ she called out.
The door creaked open, and Fay’s head poked in. ‘You got a minute?’
Rain leaned back in her chair, studying her sister’s face. ‘Sure. What’s up?’
‘Can we speak in the kitchen?’
Rain stood and followed Fay down the hallway. As they approached the kitchen, the aroma of garlic filled the air, causing Rain to frown in confusion.
