"I'm sorry, Ms. Temson," the lawyer said, his voice sympathetic but firm. "Your father's wish is quite clear. In the presence of a male heir, Temson Estate cannot fall to you. You retain the house, grounds, and your brother's considerable offshore investments, but the woods themselves belong to Mr. William Temson."
Ms. Temson, his grandfather's sister apparently, pressed her lips together in quiet thought. Though clearly shaken, she was thinking hard, and that worried Will more than the fire and sparks coming from the young woman at her elbow. She'd been introduced as Diana and was Ms. Temson's caregiver. Though to be honest, Will didn't think the old woman needed any help. She looked too crafty to die from anything but a curse, as his father would have said.
Diana was about his age, dressed so smartly in her shape-fitting, pale cream linen suit that he felt like a used-car salesman. Seeing Will eyeing her, she squinted at him, her short nails clicking as she drummed her fingers once. "You drew that will up yourself!" she finally said, her accent charming even while furious. "How could you lose the Temson Estate to some-some-Yank!" she exclaimed.
"Diana," the old woman murmured, and the young woman gave her a look both contrite and defiant. Will winced. It wasn't his fault. All he wanted to do was sign the papers and go home. The money from the sale of the forest would be a godsend, enabling him to finish his master's with enough left over he could really make a difference.
"There is nothing I can do," the lawyer said as he stood in the thin light seeping past the wooden blinds. "The title and everything with it goes to him."
Diana stood, angry and abrupt. "Let's go, Grandmum." She turned to him, fuming. "We are contesting this. If Arthur had known that entitlement had been in there, he would have changed it!"
Concerned, Will met the lawyer's eyes, and the stiff man subtly shook his head, a sublime confidence in the way he opened the folder and began leafing through the legal papers.
The old woman ignored Diana's anger, her hands in their stark-white gloves sitting on the table. "You know I can't let the axes in there, Ryan. It would be murder."
Uneasy, the lawyer glanced from the papers to Will, an apologetic crinkle in his eyes.
"Murder?" Will said, interested as papers were slid before him.
"Grandmum, please," Diana murmured, her entire demeanor shifting to one of embarrassment as she touched the older woman's shoulder as if to prod her into motion. The old woman pursed her lips, then finally giving in to Diana's gentle tugging, she got to her feet. Will hastily rose, his chair scraping.
"She's a bit creaky in the attic," the lawyer said a shade too loudly as he handed Will a pen and pointed where to sign. "She and her brother, God rest his soul, never let anyone in that woods, but it's yours now. You'll be selling it . . . I presume? We don't handle property transfers, but here is my brother's card. He can get you a good price on it."
Diana's urgent, hushed, and utterly one-sided conversation with Ms. Temson was an uneasy backdrop as Will signed the last place and handed the pen back. "Thank you," he said, tucking the card in his pocket. "I'd like to take care of this as soon as possible." He wanted to go home. It was too cold and rainy here-too many people.
"You cannot log those woods," Diana said bitterly as the lawyer closed the file and gestured for them all to leave. "We have worked too long. You don't understand."
At her words, the woman dug her heels in at the threshold, Diana's arm slipping from her. Alarmed, the young woman turned as Ms. Temson faced Will, her gloved hands holding her tiny purse before her and her stance upright and ramrod straight. "Diana," the older woman said firmly. "You are absolutely right. I would speak with Mr. Temson before we leave."
Diana's face went white. "Grandmum. No," she said, and inclining his head, the lawyer snapped his folder on the table and left. Will was tempted to mutter some excuse and bolt after him, but Diana's sudden shift of mood from angry frustration to one of . . . hidden secrets caught his interest. She didn't want him logging out the woods, but she didn't want him talking to Ms. Temson, either.
Diana's eyes flicked between them. "Grandmum . . . He's not going to sell it back to you. He wants the money."
Will cringed at the emphasis she'd put on the last word, as if it was dirty. Yes, he wanted the money. He had a lot of things he wanted to do, and being a realist, he knew it took money to make a difference-lots of money. But Ms. Temson's deep look of concentration worried him. He'd found old ladies were the most devious creatures on earth.
"Call me Will, please," he said as he took the woman's fragile-looking hand, startled at her firm grip in her white gloves. "I'd like to extend my deepest sympathy-"
She waved a hand, interrupting him. "Arthur's passing was a blessing," she said, shocking him when she smiled and touched his arm familiarly. "Your grandfather died from a heart attack five years ago. It just took his body until now to realize it." Commandeering his arm, she led him out. To the casual observer, it might seem he was helping her, but she was in complete control of the situation and both of them knew it. Diana lurked behind, walking far too close and making him feel awkward as he held the door for her. She was still scared, too, concerned at what might come out of Ms. Temson's mouth. Which was exactly why he hadn't left yet.
Both women went out before him to stand on the wide stoop, hesitating as if for a few last words. The thin sun struck him, and he relaxed, glad to be out of the gloom and circumstance of another country's law. "Thank you, love," his grandmother said with a sigh, seeming to be glad to have the sun about her again as well. "You will picnic with us."
"Grandmum!" Diana gasped, her pale cheeks blushing.
"Tomorrow. It will be a lovely stomp through the woods," the older woman said, holding up a hand in gentle, silent rebuke.
"I-uh-wouldn't dream of imposing." Will's eyes flicked to Diana. She was all but baring her teeth at him, thinly disguising it as a smile.
"Nonsense." Ms. Temson shifted into his line of sight, smiling as if they were lifelong friends. "You will be logging out the woods. Don't deny it. The offers undoubtedly began before you arrived, and you will find three more at the hotel when you return there. They've been hounding me for decades. Promise me you won't allow one marker, not one clawed boot into my . . . your woods until after tomorrow."
He nodded hesitantly-mistrusting this but curious-and the old woman straightened as if a load had fallen from her, the deep lines about her eyes easing.