Helena Hunting: Inked Armour

As soon as Trey’s car disappeared around the bend in the drive, I sank down in one of the chairs. His words were like slivers working deep into my skin.

My relationship with Connor had always been tricky. He was older by several years, and he’d had some unrealistic expectations, mostly old-fashioned notions of propriety. In hindsight, it had been all about keeping up appearances. If we’d gotten married, I would have had to balance that my entire life. All my “little quirks,” as Connor called them, would have been shelved or channeled into more acceptable things. Or hidden under clothing or hair, as my tiny tattoo and ear piercings had been.

Connor had been halfway across the country for years, only coming back to Minnesota during the summer months and holidays. When we started dating, he flew back more often. But the distance strained the relationship, and in my final semester of college it became too much to juggle. I needed to focus on school, not pine for a boyfriend so far away. So I gave him a reprieve. It lasted eight weeks. I’d never asked him about that span of time. It hadn’t seemed necessary to know, because shortly thereafter he proposed.

Unfortunately, that little barb from Trey brought up other concerns that had nothing to do with Connor. An image of Hayden with Sienna all over him popped into my head. The thought made my stomach turn. I couldn’t stand the idea of him with anyone but me. Which wasn’t fair because I left him, not the other way around.

If he went back to her in my absence, I had no one to blame but myself. Two weeks was long enough for her to find a way to sink her claws back into him, especially with how I’d left things. It made the urgency of tying up loose ends even more pressing. I missed him so much it was a constant, painful distraction.

I smoothed the power-of-attorney papers out on the counter. Unlike sorting through Connor’s effects or managing the financial aspects of the settlement, this wasn’t something I could handle on my own. I snatched up my purse and the documents and headed for the garage.

The familiar drive to Minneapolis didn’t take long, and I soon reached Williams and Williams Attorneys at Law. I should have called ahead, but Frank Williams was a longtime friend of my father’s. I was certain he would see me, even without an appointment.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor took forever. The confined space made me anxious; I hadn’t been to Frank’s office since I signed the paperwork regarding the settlement from the airline and my parents’ will.

The receptionist looked surprised as I entered. “Tenley!”

“Hi, Catherine. I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment, but I’m happy to wait if Frank is available.”

“Is everything okay? Is there a problem with the settlement?”

“It’s about Connor’s estate. I have . . . some questions.”

“I’ll be right back.” She went down the hall to Frank’s office, and less than a minute later he appeared, Catherine following behind.

“Tenley! It’s so good to see you.” Though he smiled, I saw his concern as he folded me in a fatherly embrace. I hugged him back. “How is Chicago treating you?”

“I’m taking a short break. There are some things that need my attention here.”

“Why don’t you come to my office and we can talk.” He looked to Catherine. “Can you reschedule that lunch meeting?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll let you know if we need to rearrange anything else this afternoon,” Frank said, and led me to his office.

Once the doors were closed, I filled him in, handing over the documents. Frank lifted the bifocals hanging around his neck, his frown deepening as he scanned the pages.

“Why haven’t I seen this before?” he asked.

“I just found out about it this morning. I came directly to you. Is Trey right? Can he take everything?” The property and the value attached to it didn’t concern me. It was having control stripped away, the potential for more loss too much to handle.

“This is your signature?” He flipped to the back page and turned it toward me.

“Yes, but I had just been released from the hospital and was on a lot of medications. I don’t remember signing that.”

“That son of a—” Frank shook his head. “He can be disbarred for this.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“I’ll need a few days, but I’m sure I can have this rescinded. He should be taken to task over this—but I have a feeling you won’t be interested in going that route.”

“I don’t have the energy to take him to court. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have any power over me, and that he doesn’t get the house. I want this behind me so I can move on.”

“If that’s what you prefer. Now, Catherine said something about Connor’s estate. Is there more we need to deal with?”

“Yes.” I pulled out a copy of Trey’s transfer-of-ownership papers and the proposed remuneration.

So much had changed since I’d signed the papers for the settlement. I’d been drowning in guilt over accepting financial compensation for such overwhelming emotional losses. For the past year I’d believed the loss was a direct result of my selfishness. Trey had played on that, but I’d finally seen that what had happened was far beyond anyone’s control. I wouldn’t allow him to hold that over me anymore.

Four days later I was back in Frank’s office with Connor’s cousin Weston.

Frank had been able to overturn the power of attorney. He’d also uncovered some information about a recent proposal for the Hoffman estate, which sprawled over ten acres with five houses. Trey had applied to the city council for commercial zoning and demolition.

My house and its two-acre parcel of land was a gift from Connor’s parents, meant for us once we were married. We were supposed to move in when we returned from Hawaii—except that hadn’t happened.

I’d been shocked when I found out the property had been left to me. Trey had been livid, particularly since Connor, who’d specialized in real estate law, had left him with no loopholes to take it from me.

While his plans for the property were unknown, some of the houses, if not all of them, were at risk of being torn down. That was not acceptable.

In drawing up the new transfer-of-ownership agreement, Frank included a clause that stipulated the house and two acres would remain under the residential zoning bylaws. And since the house was smack in the middle of the estate, that kiboshed Trey’s plans.

Pen in hand, Weston looked up at me. “You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely. Connor would have wanted to keep the estate in the family.” Weston’s family also held half the deed to the summer home. Once my house was signed over, Trey was effectively screwed.

Weston and Connor had been close growing up. Weston had almost come to the wedding, but it hadn’t worked with his schedule. He’d been gravely disappointed, but now I was glad for that small mercy.

With a respectful nod, he bent over the papers, signing at each of the yellow tabs. When his signature was scrawled on the last page, he set the pen down.

“Is that it?” I asked Frank. “The house is Weston’s?”

“That’s it. The keys will be passed over tomorrow evening at five.”

That would give me enough time to get the rest of Connor’s effects boxed and sent off to charity and to pack my bags. The tension of the past few weeks drained out of me. The power of attorney had been reversed. The house wasn’t my responsibility anymore; it belonged to someone who deserved it. I hadn’t wanted any money for it, but Weston insisted. Frank had assured me we could set up a trust fund. My parents’ house was the only thing left now. I still wasn’t ready to part with that.