Chapter Three

BAILEY

My phone buzzed loudly, jolting me out of a restless sleep filled with disjointed dreams of courtroom dramas and talking cats wearing Santa hats. I groaned, blindly reaching out to silence the intrusive noise. My fingers fumbled across the cluttered nightstand, knocking over an empty coffee mug and yesterday's copy of the Wintervale Gazette before finally grasping the vibrating device.

The harsh glow of the screen pierced my bleary eyes, making me wince as I tried to focus. Squinting against the brightness, I saw the notification that made my heart skip a beat and then hammer uncomfortably in my chest…

Jacob Wilder.

For a long, bewildered moment, I just stared at the name, half-convinced I was still dreaming. Jacob and I hadn't spoken directly in years—not since that summer after high school graduation when everything went sideways. Yet here he was, his name lighting up my phone screen as if we were old friends casually texting on a Monday morning.

I hesitated before opening the message, a knot forming in my stomach. Memories flooded back—late-night study sessions at the 24-hour diner, the way his eyes could barely meet mine when he’d asked me to the Homecoming dance, our first kiss under the bleachers after our team won the game. Shaking off the unwanted nostalgia, I tapped the message.

Jacob: Bailey, let's arrange a meeting with our clients today. Noon at Barrington Manor. Theodore and I think it's best if we discuss options to settle this matter outside of court. I'm confident we can convince Edna to drop her claim—it's in the best interest of the town.

I read the message twice, each word fueling a simmering irritation that chased away any lingering grogginess. No “Hello, Bailey, I hope all is well,” or “How’s the family?” Any sentimentality I’d been feeling was quickly replaced with what I considered righteous anger. Convince Edna to drop her claim? The audacity was almost laughable. I could practically hear his smooth, condescending tone, as if he were explaining something obvious to a particularly slow student.

Rolling my eyes so hard it hurt, I tossed the phone onto the bedspread and flopped back against the pillows, the cool sheets doing little to dampen the heat rising in my cheeks. Who did Jacob think he was? Waltzing back into my life with a curt text and a presumptuous plan.

I snatched the phone back up, my thumbs flying over the keyboard as I crafted a response dripping with professional sarcasm.

Me: Jacob, I'd be happy to oversee a meeting to ensure my client isn't railroaded into doing something she doesn't want to do. And frankly, I don't see how you, of all people, would know what's best for Wintervale. A cat sanctuary may be exactly what this town needs, in fact.

Satisfied, I hit send with a decisive tap, imagining the look on his face when he read it. Probably that same infuriating smirk he always had when he thought he was right. Despite myself, a small grin tugged at my lips at the idea of beating him at his own game.

I glanced at the clock—7:15 am…Plenty of time before the proposed meeting to get my thoughts in order and brace myself for whatever today would bring. Not that I needed bracing. Jacob Wilder was just another opposing counsel. A particularly irritating one with a penchant for underestimating me, obviously, but nothing I couldn't handle.

My phone buzzed again, pulling me back to the present. His reply was swift, almost as if he'd been waiting.

Jacob: If you plan to try this case in court, you'll need actual proof that Edna is the rightful heir. Do you have that, or are you bluffing?

I clenched my jaw as a mix of annoyance and unease settled in my gut. Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong. Edna's claim to Barrington Manor was based on little more than family lore and a few faded letters she insisted existed but had yet to produce. It was a shaky case, but it was all we had.

But there was no way I was admitting that to Jacob.

Me: I have proof

The words I typed back felt like tiny betrayals as I sent them off.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cold hardwood floor sending a chill up my spine. Stretching, I tried to shake off the lingering doubts. Focus, Bailey. This was just another case, another challenge to overcome. And if Jacob thought he could intimidate me, he had another thing coming. Obviously, what we’d once had was long gone, and I’d push the memories out of my mind if I had to bulldoze them myself.

My phone buzzed again.

Jacob: Fine. Then we'll meet at the property at noon.

No sign-off, no pleasantries. Classic Jacob. Always direct, always in control. Well, two could play at that game.

I didn't bother replying. Instead, I headed to the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. Steam filled the small bathroom, fogging up the mirror and cocooning me in warmth. As I lathered shampoo into my hair, I ran through possible strategies in my mind.

Edna Twinkleberry was...eccentric, to put it mildly. Her vision for transforming Barrington Manor into a holiday-themed cat sanctuary was certainly unique, but who was I to judge? Wintervale thrived on its quirky charm, and maybe this really was exactly the kind of attraction that would help put the little town back on the map.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and wiped a circle clear on the mirror. My reflection stared back—hazel eyes determined, chestnut hair curling damply around my face. I could do this.

Back in the bedroom, I faced the eternal dilemma: what to wear? My usual courtroom attire felt too formal for a meeting at an abandoned, run-down mansion, yet I wanted to project confidence and professionalism, especially in front of Jacob and Theodore Snowcroft.

Flipping through hangers, I settled on a deep burgundy sweater dress that hugged my figure just enough to be flattering but remained tasteful. I paired it with black leggings and ankle boots—practical for trudging around a decaying property but stylish enough to make a statement. A silver necklace and matching earrings added a touch of polish.

As I applied a light layer of makeup—just enough mascara to make my eyes pop and a hint of color on my lips—I couldn't help but wonder what Jacob would think when he saw me. Not that it mattered, of course. Still, a tiny part of me hoped he'd be caught off guard.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday—a bad habit when cases got intense. Deciding to treat myself to the buffet, I headed to the hotel's restaurant with my laptop in hand, determined to do more genealogical research into Edna’s possible familial tie with Cyrus Barrington. The dining area was bustling with morning activity. The soft clinking of cutlery and murmur of conversations created a comforting backdrop as I entered the room.

The breakfast buffet was an impressive spread. Fluffy pancakes stacked high, waiting to be drenched in maple syrup. Crispy bacon and sausages sizzled under heat lamps. A colorful array of fresh fruits glistened invitingly, alongside an assortment of pastries that would make any French bakery proud.

After being seated, I filled my plate with a little bit of everything, rationalizing that I needed energy for the day ahead. Settling at a table by the window, I savored the first bite of a warm blueberry muffin, the burst of sweetness lifting my spirits.

Outside, snowflakes began to drift lazily from the gray sky, dusting the streets of Wintervale in a thin white layer, and the village looked even more charming that it had when I’d first arrived.

As I sipped my coffee, my gaze wandered around the room. Families chatted animatedly, and I overheard a group of children excitedly discussing their Christmas lists with eager anticipation. A young couple nearby shared a quiet moment, their hands intertwined over the table, smiles playing on their lips.

A pang of something—Loneliness, perhaps—pricked at me. It had been a while since I'd felt that kind of connection. Ever since…well, Jacob, really. My last relationship had been a disaster practically from the beginning and had ended months ago, neither of us ever feeling we had something worth fighting for. The life of a lawyer wasn't exactly conducive to romance and especially not mine. Not since my mother’s cancer diagnosis and the medical bills that had piled up, drowning my parents in debt until she died a little over a year ago. If I could just make partner, I might finally be able to make enough to pay off the bills and take care of my dad for the time he had left. He deserved it after losing the love of his life.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. I pulled out my tablet, scrolling through notes and documents related to Edna's case. Lost in thought, I didn't notice someone approaching until a familiar voice cut through the background noise.

"Well, if it isn't Bailey Pace."

I looked up sharply, nearly knocking over my coffee.

Jacob stood across the table, a bemused expression on his annoyingly handsome face. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy sweater that matched the color of his eyes. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed looking effortlessly perfect.

"Jacob," I said coolly, recovering quickly. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same," he replied, eyeing the spread on my plate. "Stocking up for winter?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Preparing for a long day dealing with stubborn opposition."

He chuckled. "Touché."

An awkward silence stretched between us. I refused to be the one to break it.

He gestured to the empty chair across from me. "Mind if I join you?"

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say no, to avoid any unnecessary interaction before the meeting with our clients. But another part—the competitive part—didn't want to appear rattled.

"Suit yourself," I said nonchalantly.

He sat down, placing his own cup of coffee on the table. For a moment, we simply sipped our drinks in silence, the air thick with unspoken history.

"So," he began finally, "how have you been?"

"Busy," I replied shortly. "And you?"

"Can't complain," he said, undeterred by my curt response. "Business has been good. The firm in Chicago keeps me on my toes."

"Glad to hear it."

Another pause. He studied me thoughtfully, as if trying to read my thoughts.

"You know," he said slowly, "it's been a long time since we've had a proper conversation."

I met his gaze evenly. "Has it? It feels like just yesterday we were butting heads over moot court."

He smiled wryly. "Some things never change."

"Indeed."

He leaned back in his chair. "Look, Bailey, about today's meeting…"

I held up a hand. "Jacob, if you're about to suggest that I convince Edna to drop her claim, you can save your breath. I'm committed to representing her interests."

He sighed. "I figured as much. But you have to see that this case is a long shot. Without solid evidence…"

"That's for the court to decide," I interrupted sharply. "Unless you're afraid we might actually have a chance."

His eyes flashed with something—annoyance? Amusement? It was hard to tell. "Always the fighter."

"Always," I agreed.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, you can't say I didn't try."

"Appreciated," I said dryly.

He glanced at his watch. "I should get going. Need to prepare for our meeting."

"Wouldn't want to keep your client waiting," I remarked.

He stood up, pausing for a moment as if considering his next words. "It’s…good to see you, Bailey."

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral. "You too."

As he walked away, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. That was...something. Interacting with Jacob was like navigating a minefield—one wrong step and everything could blow up, including my heart if I wasn’t careful. I wondered if he'd always have this effect on me.

By the time I pulled up to Edna's cottage, the snow was falling steadily, blanketing the quaint neighborhood in a layer of pristine white. Her house was impossible to miss, as it looked like a pinata of holiday cheer had burst open on top of it. Twinkle lights outlined every nook and cranny, candy cane stakes lined the walkway, and a chorus of animatronic elves sang carols on the front lawn.

I knocked on the bright red door, which was promptly flung open.

"Bailey, dear!" Edna exclaimed, her eyes sparkling behind her red frames. Today, she was wearing another Christmas sweater depicting cats with antlers leading Santa’s sleigh, a pair of cotton-candy pink snow pants, and fuzzy boots.

"Good morning, Edna," I greeted her warmly. "Ready for our big meeting?"

"Absolutely! Just let me grab my plans." She disappeared into the house, returning moments later with an overflowing binder and a large poster tube. "Can't wait to show those stuffy old men what we've got up our sleeves!"

I smiled. "They're certainly in for a treat."

As we drove toward Barrington Manor, Edna chatted excitedly about her latest ideas for the sanctuary—a cat café, adoption events, seasonal festivals. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself genuinely rooting for her vision.

We arrived at the manor just before noon. Jacob accompanied by Theodore Snowcroft was already there, standing by a sleek black Cadillac sedan that I assumed belonged to Theodore. He was an imposing figure—tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick mustache and a scowl on his face. It was clear he'd rather be anywhere else, and I had to admit I related to the feeling.

"Miss Pace," he greeted me with a curt nod. "Miss Twinkleberry."

"Mr. Snowcroft," I replied coolly. Jacob offered a polite smile, which I returned with a professional nod.

"Shall we get started?" Jacob suggested, leading the way up the porch and unlocking the front door, which creaked loudly as he pushed it open. Inside, dust motes floated in the cold air, and the scent of aged wood and neglect permeated the space.

"Charming," Theodore remarked sarcastically.

Edna ignored him, her gaze roaming the grand foyer. "This place has so much potential," she whispered.

We moved into what must have once been a lavish sitting room where I flipped the light switch, illuminating the faded wallpaper peeling from the walls, and a massive fireplace dominated one end of the room. I could imagine the space as it may have been once long ago—filled with warmth and laughter, with a Christmas tree twinkling in the corner.

After we were inside, we took seats on the dusty furniture where Edna wasted no time.

"I've brought some materials to help illustrate my plans," she announced, unfurling a large poster over the marble coffee table. The poster depicted a colorful rendering of the mansion transformed into a festive animal-friendly wonderland, complete with happy cats playing with yarn and peeking out from around decorated trees and scratching posts.

Theodore raised an eyebrow. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Edna bristled. "It's no joke, Theodore. This is a viable business proposal that could bring tourism and joy to Wintervale."

He scoffed. "The town doesn't need a...a feline circus. It needs practical development—something that will generate real revenue. A high-rise apartment complex. Connected townhomes with no yards to leverage square footage."

"Who says Miss Twinkleberry’s pet sanctuary won't be successful?" I interjected. "There's a growing market for unique attractions. With proper marketing, Edna's proposal could draw investors and visitors from all over the region."

Jacob stepped forward. "Regardless of the potential, the issue at hand is the legality of Edna's claim to the property."

I met his gaze. "Which we are prepared to defend."

He sighed. "Bailey, let's be reasonable. Without concrete evidence, this will be a costly endeavor for everyone involved."

"Are you suggesting my client back down simply because it's inconvenient for yours?" I challenged.

"Enough," Theodore snapped. "This is a waste of time. If you won't see reason, we'll proceed with the development as planned."

Edna's eyes flashed. "Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged," Theodore muttered under his breath.

"What did you just say, you old coot?” Edna cried, leaping from her seat, and lunging towards Theodore.

Jacob stepped between them, placing a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "Let's all take a moment to calm down."

Just then, a gust of wind howled through the trees, and the sky darkened ominously. We all looked towards the window, where the snow was falling more heavily, the flakes swirling in a frenzied dance.

As we continued our discussions, the tension in the room ebbed and flowed. Edna passionately defended her claim, while Theodore remained dismissive. Jacob and I exchanged barbs, each trying to outmaneuver the other with legal technicalities and thinly veiled jabs.

Outside, the storm intensified. The wind battered against the windows, and the house groaned in protest. Suddenly, there was a howl followed by a loud crack, and the lights flickered before plunging us into darkness.