10. Raina

T he "need to know" list was short, Raina decided. This was not a family situation that had to be spread, shared, and supported by the entire Wingate clan. At least, not yet. And as tempting as it was to bring Madeline and Adam into the mix, Raina decided she could probably nip this in the bud without upsetting anyone's apple cart.

She told Chase, of course, and they'd talked about it late into the night. The claim was outrageous and absurd, but Raina needed far more information and proof before she got really worried. As far as she was concerned, Ivy Button was a classic con artist who would need to show her cards and have them closely scrutinized.

No doubt she thought Susannah was easy prey with an older husband who'd been sick, never taking into consideration the power of the Wingate family. She couldn't possibly dream of getting Wingate House, but money? Oh, she most likely dreamed of that. But all that would be clearer after the meeting that would start in…less than half an hour.

Chase wanted to be here, but in the end, they agreed that he could help the most by making one hundred percent certain Rex was away from Wingate Properties all afternoon. He'd brilliantly arranged a meeting with a client selling a multimillion-dollar estate on St. Simons Island in Georgia.

With two hours of driving, a long lunch, and an important negotiation, Chase would have Rex gone for the better part of the day. Raina had hired her favorite local sitter who wasn't a sister, because she didn't require an explanation of why Raina was having a meeting in town.

Even Raina's former assistant, who now worked for Blake and Chase, had unknowingly helped her out by taking the day off. That meant one less person who'd be curious about Ivy Button and her meeting with Susannah and Raina.

But Blake was here, zipping by her office, busy as ever.

"Just like old times, huh, Aunt Raina?" Blake called out on one of his trips. "What is the special occasion?" he asked, pausing at the door.

For a moment, Raina seriously considered bringing him in on everything. After all, as Doreen Parrish's biological grandson, Blake had skin in the game. That meant Ivy Button, if she really was Doreen's niece, which Raina doubted, was Blake's cousin.

But the kid had enough family issues. He'd basically been disowned by his father, an Iowa farmer who deeply disapproved when Blake decided to come out of the closet to his family and friends. His mother followed his father's lead, and that left Blake alone in the world.

He was resourceful, though, and had done the research to discover the names of his father's birth parents.

That led him to Amelia Island well over a year ago. After Doreen died and the sisters discovered they had a half-brother who'd been adopted, Raina put the puzzle pieces together that showed Blake was their nephew.

It took some work, but she'd brought him into the fold and now he was a treasured member of the Wingate clan.

Did he need to know there were more broken branches on his gnarled family tree? Not yet, she decided.

"Suze and I have a meeting and it seemed easier to have it here than at the inn," she explained.

The truth was, she didn't want Ivy Button anywhere near the inn where her alleged aunt's life was lived. Here, Raina had all the power, not to mention the files, the computers, and the psychological advantage of letting Ivy know she was up against Wingate Properties. And that was a formidable opponent.

"Ah, the joys of a double wedding," Blake said, going exactly where she'd hoped he'd go without forcing her into a lie. "And where are the dumplings?"

"With a sitter," she said.

He made a face. "I could have watched them while you discuss…what is this meeting for again? I don't—" He turned and his face brightened. "Hello, Mrs. Wingate!"

Saved by Susannah, Raina stood and came around her desk. "Suze." She reached out and hugged her mother a little tighter than necessary.

"She's downstairs," Suze muttered in her ear. "I saw her on the street. She was on the phone and didn't see me."

Raina leaned back. "I'll go get her."

"Do you want me to get your guest?" Blake asked brightly. "I'm happy to—"

"I'll go, Blake. We'll just need some, uh, privacy with her."

"Of course," he said, far too classy to press for more information. "I'm actually going to be downstairs in the copy room working on a pile of contracts for clients. Just buzz me if you need me, Raina. For anything."

"Thank you, Blake." She gave him a smile, led Suze into the office to take a seat in one of the swivel chairs surrounding a small table, and pointed to her. "How will I know her?"

"Beady eyes. Black hair. Skinny to the point of unhealthy. And filthy sneakers."

Smiling at her mother's description, she jogged down the wide curved stairs that once were the centerpiece of her great-grandfather's bank building and crossed the marble floor to the front entrance.

Just as she reached it, a woman who matched Susannah's description right down to the scuffed Nikes pulled open the door.

"Hello, Raina."

She startled slightly, not expecting to be recognized. "Ms. Button?"

"How many are here?" she demanded.

"Just my mother and me. You?" She looked over her shoulder. "Did you bring Doreen's ‘sister' so we could meet her, too?" She knew how the question sounded—like she didn't believe a thing that would come out of this woman's mouth.

Ivy just flicked a brow and tapped a cheap tote bag on her arm. "I brought all I needed to get you out of my Victorian mansion and my life. You can read it and weep or let me walk down the street to the local newspaper. I'm sure they'll publish Doreen's account of what your saintly father did to her."

Bile rose but Raina refused to even blink in response.

"We're upstairs," she said, gesturing in that direction as she started to walk. After a few steps, she turned to see that Ivy hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

"Why would I?" She reached into the bag. "Read these and—"

"Upstairs, Ms. Button," Raina ground out. "We don't conduct business in the lobby at Wingate Properties."

Her eyes fluttered with a disgusted sigh as she clomped her dirty sneakers up the stairs behind Raina, who ushered her across the admin area where Blake and Dani usually sat at their desks, and into the big office, the picture window offering sunlight and a view of Wingate Way.

"We meet again," Ivy said to Susannah, who didn't stand when they walked in.

Her mother gave a tight smile, either unable or unwilling to talk. That was fine. Raina would handle this meeting and it wouldn't—unlike every other meeting—start with small-talk or an offer of something to drink.

"Show me what you have," Raina said as the woman plopped into one of the swivel chairs.

She reached into the tote bag and pulled out a manila envelope, slapping it on the table. "It's all there. Just hand me the keys."

Raina snorted in response. "I'm sorry you're so delusional, Ms. Button, but that is not the way real estate transactions work. It's not the way obscure and highly questionable legal claims work. It is not the way estate law and inheritance works. And…" Raina finally sat down next to her and leaned in. "It is certainly not the way the Wingate family works."

The other woman angled her head, too tough to show she was intimidated, but Raina knew her personal power.

"Read the letters she wrote to my mother, and then you can tell me what will work. In the meantime…" Ivy looked around. "Can a person get a cup of coffee in this place?"

"No." Raina lifted the dreaded envelope.

Peeking inside, she saw a bunch of handwritten…things. Loose-leaf paper, mismatched stationery, and one very crinkled paper napkin. Without reading a word, she tossed it back on the desk. "What do you really want? Money?"

"I want the inn." She picked up the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a folded and paper-clipped piece of paper. "The one that says it goes to Doreen Parrish—or her heirs—on the day that Reggie Wingate Jr. passes away. That's your dead grandfather, right?"

"Stop it!" Susannah barked, startling both of them. She leaned forward, putting her face closer to Ivy's. "You will not enter this building, which was built by the blood, sweat, and honor of the Wingate family, and disrespect a single member of it." She literally seethed, the words hissing through gritted teeth. "Is that clear?"

The other woman had the decency to lean back and shut up while Raina read a document that looked like it had been typed on an IBM Selectric sometime in the 1970s.

Well, not sometime. Specifically, on November 17, 1971. That was the date at the top of the document, which didn't look like a legal filing, but was notarized in Nassau County, Florida.

That would help to track down the veracity of this thing.

She skimmed the words… I, Reginald Wingate II, do hereby swear that upon my passing, ownership of the property known as Wingate House of 109 Wingate Way in Fernandina Beach will be gifted to Miss Doreen Joy Parrish, or her living heirs .

Her first thought was…Doreen's middle name was Joy? Oh, the irony. Her second?

This was a fraud and all she had to do was figure out a way to prove that.

"I'm sorry, but there is no way in heaven or hell or anywhere in between that any man named Reginald Wingate would make this decision, sign this paper, or give that house away to anyone for any reason." She tossed the paper. "Nope. Not a man with Wingate blood in his body and I will bet a gallon of my own that's the truth."

"You want the truth? Read the letters." Ivy stuffed her hand in the envelope and whipped one out, shoving it into Raina's hand. "Just read them, Raina. Or would you like me to read them out loud for your mother's benefit?" She whipped open a folded piece of loose leaf. "‘No matter how much I told him no, he insisted—'"

"Stop it." Raina wrenched the paper away and balled it in her fist. "Do you think we don't know Rex Wingate better than you, you little scam artist? This is a lie!"

"You have to prove that," Ivy said, calm and cool.

"No." Raina stood up, digging for her own composure. " You have to prove that."

"Then I'm going to drag your father through so much mud, he'll choke on it and his big, fat house. The newspapers don't fact-check, anyway. They love dirt and, baby, this story is filthy."

"So are you," Raina muttered out through clenched teeth, glancing again at the letters, a plan formulating.

Somewhere in this office, there had to be something written or signed by Doreen Parrish. She had to compare the handwriting, for starters. And there had to be some record of this bizarre promise her grandfather had made.

"I need to hit the bathroom," Ivy announced, pushing up. "Where is it?"

She considered telling her to go down to the public bathroom on Centre Street, but she wasn't done with this woman. She had questions and needed to find her weakness. But before that, she needed to find something Doreen had written, because that might nip this in the bud.

"Down the hall on your left." When Ivy left, Raina turned to Susannah. "I need to dig through some files. Can you stand to be in here alone with her? I don't want her poking around or talking to anyone."

"I can manage her," Susannah said.

"Find her weak spots," Raina added as she gathered the envelope to take it all with her, including the balled-up paper. "But don't let her upset you. She's lying, and I am certain we can prove it."

With that, she shot out and jogged down the stairs, knowing exactly where in the file room—the bowels of the building that all administrative assistants called the dungeon—she might be able to find employee files. Surely Doreen had signed something.

The file room was empty and dark, with air-conditioning blasting to make it cold, too. She couldn't remember the last time she was down here. Maybe one summer in college when Dad told her if she couldn't file, she couldn't be a real estate agent.

Taking a deep breath, Raina turned, tried to orient herself, and only realized then that she was trembling.

Okay, this was serious. This woman could make enough trouble to bring real harm to the family. Would she win in court? Unlikely. But she could destroy the Wingate name, and truly, deeply hurt Rex in the process.

And she couldn't—

"Raina?"

She spun at the sound of Blake's voice, startled by it.

"What are you doing in the file dungeon?" he asked, coming closer. "You can ask me to find something. I reorganized every inch of this place a few months ago because I couldn't find a thing."

"I…I…need something."

"No kidding." He reached for her hand. "Aunt Raina, I haven't seen you this upset since the day you nearly lost those babies."

"You saved them and me," she whispered, the memory dear to her.

"And I can again," he said simply. "Why don't you tell me what you're looking for, why that snotty woman has you so upset—she was rude and couldn't find the bathroom—and let me help you again."

She leaned against a filing cabinet, overwhelmed by the support. "You really are a Wingate."

"No greater compliment, considering my own father has disowned me."

And Rex—all of them, really—loved and accepted him. Blake needed to know what was going on.

"Okay, you can help me," she said. "But brace yourself, Blake."

To his credit, not much fazed Blake Youngblood. He listened, reacted, and recognized that the moment called for action, not a deep dive into the topic of his biological grandmother. That could come later.

With Raina, he made a quick game plan to attack the files. She rushed back upstairs to the office, worried to have left Susannah alone with that monster for so long. In the office, it was dead silent and colder than the file dungeon.

Ivy was sprawled on one of the swivel chairs, flipping through her phone, and Susannah stood near the window.

With her arms wrapped around her waist and her gaze locked on Madeline's salon across the street, Susannah looked wound tight and ready to spiral out of control.

"I need some time," Raina announced as she walked in.

"Enough time for me to walk down to the local newspaper office?" Ivy asked. "And get these Instagram and Facebook stories tagging all things Wingate ready to roll?"

Raina shot her a death glare. "Time to talk to you, Ivy."

The other woman looked dubious. "Chat away." She put her phone down and crossed her arms. "What do you want to know?"

"You background, for starters," Raina said, perching on the edge of the chair across from her. "And more about your mother, Doreen's sister."

"What do you want to know about her?"

"Her name."

"Felicity," she said. "Felicity Button."

"You hesitated. Is Button your real name?"

"Her married name, and, yes. It's mine now that I divorced and went back to my maiden name. Many Buttons in the world, starting with Benjamin."

"Where do you live, Ms. Button?"

"Minnesota."

"Oh? That's far away."

"Planes fly," she said drolly.

"Do you live with your mother?" Raina asked.

"She's in an assisted-living facility."

"But you want to move her here, to the inn? Will you care for her yourself?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "I'll get a nurse, but honestly? I don't see how that's any of your business."

"You swoop in here and demand ownership of one of our family's most valuable assets?" Raina fired back. " Everything about you is my business."

She picked up the phone. "I'm posting this on Instagram. I have all you Wingates tagged."

Raina leaned forward. "Don't threaten me, lady. I have every right to know everything, to have the documents you showed me verified by a professional, and to drag your sorry self into court and prove that my grandfather did not sign away Wingate House to Doreen Parrish. Now, how may I speak with Felicity?"

"You can't. She's deaf and half blind and doesn't know her name half the time."

"I don't care. I'll take her phone number."

"It's all in that envelope. Which is…" She looked around. "Where is it?"

"I have it," Raina said, knowing that the envelope was downstairs with Blake, who she hoped was comparing handwriting samples.

"Fine. I made copies of everything."

"Good, because I'm keeping that. And I'm checking with the county to see if that document was filed."

"Make it fast, Raina, because—"

Blake tapped on the door and poked his head in, sparing a quick glance in Ivy's direction, then gesturing for Raina to come out.

She pushed up and walked outside, closing the door behind her. "Please tell me—"

"It's a perfect match." He held out a piece of paper that looked like some sort of form. "This is a survey of all employees that was conducted fifteen years ago by Rex. He must have been in his touchy-feely stage, because he explains that he hired a consultant to make sure—"

"The employees were not under too much stress," Raina said. "I remember this. It was right after I left the company, married Jack, and moved to Miami. There was quite a bit of turnover and he was worried." She made a face as she read Doreen's scratched responses to the questions. "A match?"

"Look at the capital W in Wingate, and compare it to this one." In his other hand, he held a loose-leaf paper that had come from the envelope. "See that little curlicue? Oh, and look at the way she writes little capital E's in her name. It's not only a match, it's perfect."

She studied the writing on the form.

I am the manager of Wingate House and it is a very important job.

It read—and looked—like a ten-year-old wrote it, reminding Raina that Doreen was slightly mentally challenged, but functional.

She shifted her gaze to the letter he'd pulled out of the manila envelope.

Rex Wingate is a spoiled rich kid who takes what he wants. And what he wanted was Doreen. Nothing would stop him from taking what he wanted by force.

She winced, disgusted and dismayed by the words, and the fact that the handwriting on both was identical.

"Have you read these letters?" he asked her.

"Glanced," she said. "They read like an old romance novel from the 1970s. And she only speaks of herself in third-person."

She looked up at him. "In other words, fiction. This is nothing but Doreen's imagination."

"Did she read a lot of that stuff?" Blake asked.

She nodded, remembering the hefty paperback collection they'd found when they cleaned out her apartment. "So now I have to prove that this whole thing was…her imagination?"

"Except she had a baby, and Rex admits it happened, so…at least one aspect of it was true. They did the deed. No imagining that."

She exhaled, even more worried now. "What about the Wingate House files?" she asked, searching for another solution. There had to be one. "Anything from my grandfather about giving that house away?"

"Not a word, but I did see his signature and…"

"It matches this?"

"Pretty close, but not exact. Close enough that it might hold up in court, but I'm no lawyer."

Raina shut her eyes and grunted. "Now what?"

"I have one other avenue to pursue." Blake said. "My father."

"Your father didn't have contact with her," Raina said. "At least, as far as I know, when he came to town to meet my dad—"

"And demand money," Blake interjected, sounding as disgusted as she knew he was.

"He told my father he didn't want to meet Doreen," she said. "So I don't know what contacting him will do, except make you miserable."

His expression fell. "It's been over a year since I even spoke to him, Raina."

"Oh, Blake." She put a hand on his arm. "I am sorry this is stirring up old and dark feelings for you. And you've done plenty. I can't wave a sample of Doreen's handwriting in front of that witch's face and send her home, but I'm far from defeated."

He gave her a sad smile. "Nothing defeats Aunt Raina."

"You got that right, kiddo. Let me take it from here. Thanks for this. Oh, do you want to formally meet your alleged cousin? I'm not sure she realizes who you are. My mother mentioned your father's name to her, and she claimed she had no idea there was a child. I think the less information we give her, the better."

"Agreed, and I did have one interaction on her way to the bathroom, but let me walk her down when you're finished. I'll look with a more discerning eye and won't reveal a thing."

With a quick nod, she gathered herself, then turned and walked back into the chilly atmosphere of the office.

"A month," Raina announced. "I need one full month to do my due diligence."

"Two weeks," Ivy volleyed back.

At least she was negotiating.

Raina shook her head. "One month. Leave contact information for your mother and I do not want to see your face anywhere near Wingate Way from this day until that one."

She gave a smug smile. "I'll be back in three weeks. Make this easy on your family, Raina. Tell them you sold Wingate House because it didn't make enough money as a wedding venue."

Raina could feel Susannah bristle from the other side of the room.

"And it won't," Ivy continued, either not aware of or not caring that Raina was taking slow steps toward her. "Because once I reach out to all those wedding websites and let them know the place is owned by a rap—"

"Get out of here," Raina practically spat the words in her face, through tightly clenched teeth. "Get your disgusting, lying, libelous self out of my office and my company and my town. I mean it, Ivy." Her eyes narrowed as she leaned in, inches from Ivy's rough skin and cheap hair dye. "You have no idea what will happen if I unleash the full power of the Wingate family and, trust me, you don't want to find out."

With one withering look, Ivy left and Raina dropped on the sofa, wiped out from the encounter. In an instant, Susannah was next to her, wrapping Raina in a hug and love and all the affection she could muster—which was a lot.

Raina just closed her eyes and put her head on her mother's shoulder. "Don't worry, Suze. Don't worry."

But she knew they both were worried sick.