LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter 2

      Gwen had taken a long bath and eaten the bread that Lily had left with the casserole and, by the time she headed into town, she felt almost human again. All she had to do was remain focused. The next time she felt the Finding, she’d just ignore it. Simple as that. Just because she’d inherited one of the Harper family powers, didn’t mean she had to use it. She’d managed to stand up to Gloria all those years ago and refuse any more training, and she’d kept magic out of her life for the last thirteen years. Being back in Pendleford for one night wasn’t going to undo that. No matter how many creepy little notes Great-Aunt Iris had left for her.

      The solicitor’s office occupied an imposing Georgian townhouse on the main street. Of course, all of the buildings were impressive, so that diluted its effect somewhat. Gwen hesitated outside the building. It was ridiculous. She had no connection to the Laings, not any more, and she’d never met Mr Laing Senior. There was nothing to worry about. Gwen found the reception and was directed straight into Mr Laing’s office.

      ‘He’s waiting for you,’ the secretary said, her rose-pink lips pursed.

      Gwen opened her mouth to explain that the parking in this undeniably quaint and picturesque town was satanic and the unexpected twenty-minute fast walk had made her late, and then closed it when she caught sight of Mr Laing. The man didn’t look like he had much time left on this earth and probably didn’t want to waste it listening to excuses or parking zone rants.

      ‘Ms Harper. You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up.’ Mr Laing gestured to his wheelchair. ‘Please sit.’

      Gwen sat and tried not to stare at the ancient being opposite. He must have been at least ninety. Well preserved, for sure, his nails freshly manicured and eyes bright, but surely someone who had earned retirement. What kind of firm was this? The kind you could only leave in a box?

      Mr Laing picked up a sheet of heavy-weight cream paper and held it out. ‘This is the original of the document that we sent to you. Your great-aunt’s will. I understand there is some confusion on your part.’

      Gwen kept her hands in her lap, refusing to touch the paper. ‘Not confusion exactly.’

      ‘How can I help?’ Mr Laing steepled his fingers.

      ‘I wanted to know if I could sell the house straight away.’

      ‘The terms of the will state that the property cannot be placed on the market for six months. After that, you can sell as quickly as you like.’

      ‘Right. I read that.’

      Mr Laing waited.

      ‘I was wondering, though.’ Gwen swallowed. ‘Is there a way around it?’

      ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

      ‘Can I put it up for auction, or something?’ Gwen wasn’t going to embarrass herself by explaining that she needed cash right now. Or that she couldn’t stay in the house because Iris appeared to be talking to her from beyond the grave.

      ‘Ms Harper was very clear in her instructions. She updated her will six weeks prior to her passing and instructed us to send it to you.’

      ‘But how? How could she do that?’

      Mr Laing’s white eyebrows crept upwards again. ‘She was an exceptionally organised woman.’

      ‘I mean…we weren’t in contact. How did she know my address?’

      ‘She was your great-aunt. Isn’t it possible that she spoke to another family member?’

      Gwen shook her head. That was most definitely not possible.

      ‘Is there no way to release equity from the house or something? Immediately?’ Gwen realised that her voice was getting louder and she snapped her mouth shut again. Shouting at a defenceless old man was not cool. It wasn’t his fault he worked in a soulless leather-and-oak hell and looked like an extra from The Godfather.

      Mr Laing looked back at her calmly. ‘I see.’

      Gwen sank back.

      ‘If you will excuse me, I will get my grandson in here.’

      ‘Sorry?’ Gwen sat forward.

      ‘He prepared this file but…’ Laing paused ‘…became overscheduled and passed the baton to me, as it were.’

      ‘Okay. Fine.’ Gwen remained perched on the edge of the padded leather chair and waited. She thought of her beloved minivan. It was stuffed full of her possessions and business stock and she barely fitted amongst the boxes. She didn’t want to stay at End House, but she didn’t want to sleep in the van again. Then she processed the word ‘grandson’. It couldn’t be—

      The door opened behind her and Gwen turned.

      The man in the charcoal-grey suit was both older and taller than she remembered. His face was tense, though, and that sadly fitted her last memory of him to a tee. She gaped, then, realising that she probably looked like a village idiot, closed her mouth.

      ‘Hello, Gwen.’

      ‘Cam.’ The word felt odd in her mouth. Wrong.

      ‘Don’t get up.’

      Gwen realised she was suspended, half out of the chair like she was poised to run a race.

      ‘Is there a problem?’ Cameron Laing had been twenty-three when she’d last seen him and thirteen years was a long time. Which would explain the blank and professional expression he was levelling in her direction.

      ‘You’re a lawyer,’ she said stupidly.

      ‘So it would appear,’ Cam said.

      ‘Ms Harper wishes to contest the Harper will,’ Mr Laing senior said.

      ‘No. I’m not saying that,’ Gwen said, suddenly desperate to appear reasonable. She had a good idea that ‘reasonable’ was probably not the first word that Cam would use to describe her. She wanted to show him she’d changed. Not that she needed to. There wasn’t going to be any antagonism after thirteen years. Probably no emotion at all. ‘I was just wondering if there was a way to convert the house into cash. Quickly.’

      It hardly seemed possible, but Cam’s expression became more rigid. ‘Let me see.’ Cam ran over the same details, then plucked the paper from Laing’s desk and put it into Gwen’s hands. She took it to stop it sliding off her lap onto the floor and, despite her intentions, glanced down. Iris’s signature was there at the bottom of the sheet. The same looping writing that was on the note in the purse. There was no mistake: Iris wanted her to have the house. She really wanted her to stay in Pendleford and had even put an instruction not to sell into a legal document. A part of Gwen felt flattered. It was nice to be wanted, even if it was by a woman she’d been taught to avoid like the plague.

      Cam was frowning as he

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