Linda Lee - Eva's Deadline

After Fran moved off, a man about her father’s age, with thick white hair and black-rimmed glasses, stepped to Eva’s side. “Hello, Eva, do you remember me?”

“Of course, you’re Hal Barnett. I’ve been in your drugstore many times. Your son was a year ahead of me in high school.”

Hal nodded. “I haven’t seen Carson for a couple years. Left town, same as you. What is it about our town that makes our kids want to leave?”

Eva shrugged. “Some of us just want to explore the rest of the world, I guess.” She thought of Brett, and her stomach twisted. That was what he’d wanted to do, but tragedy struck before he had the chance. Thinking of her brother prompted her to reach up and finger the silver chain that held his medal.

“We’ll sure miss Seb.” Hal slowly shook his head. “He did so much good for our town, ’sides publishing the news. Will you be comin’ back to help out at the paper? Not that Mark isn’t doing a bang-up job, but it’d be nice to keep the newspaper in the family, doncha think?”

“’Fraid not, Hal. I’ve found my place elsewhere.”

Hal’s mouth turned down. “What’s gonna happen to the Herald?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

She spoke the truth. She hadn’t been involved with the Herald in the past, so she hadn’t given any thought to its future.

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Hal excused himself to return to the buffet table. Eva finished her food and set the plate on a nearby cart. She turned to see Mark and a tall, slender man in his fifties heading toward her.

“This is Lawrence Prentiss,” Mark said when the two men reached her side. “He was your father’s attorney. I mentioned him the first night you were here.”

Ah, the man who had Seb’s will. She’d been so busy with other matters she’d all but forgotten about that. “Hello, Mr. Prentiss. I don’t think I remember you....”

Lawrence Prentiss extended his hand. “You wouldn’t. My wife and I moved here from Portland three years ago. I took over Sam Lambert’s business when he passed away.”

“I do remember the Lamberts.” Eva shook Lawrence’s hand, which seemed more bones than flesh.

“My condolences for your loss, Eva. Your father was a fine man.”

“Thank you, Mr. Prentiss.”

He cleared his throat. “As you undoubtedly know, Sebastian left a will.”

“I didn’t know until Mark mentioned it. My father was a very private person. There was a lot he didn’t share with me.”

“I understand, but now that I’m back in town, we need to schedule a time when the three of us can sit down together and read it.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “The three of us?”

Lawrence nodded. “You need to be there, too, Mark.”

“Why do we need a reading of the will?” she asked, folding her arms. “I thought that was something done only in the movies.”

Lawrence’s thin lips cracked a smile. “I know it sounds dramatic, but your father requested that you and Mark meet with me. I’m only following his instructions.”

“But I’m leaving for Seattle as soon as this reception is over. Can’t you just send me a copy?”

Lawrence shook his head. “No, I’m obligated to honor Seb’s wishes.”

Eva was tempted to stand firm on her “no.” But the man was only doing his job. She heaved a sigh. “Can you see us tomorrow?”

“I can. How about one o’clock?”

“Fine.”

Lawrence turned to Mark. “How about you, Mark?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “Saturday? I’d planned a hike with Sasha, but, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Lawrence said. “I’ll see you both in my office at one o’clock.”

* * *

AFTER HE’D TUCKED Sasha into bed that evening, Mark settled in his recliner with a cup of coffee. Satisfaction brought a smile to his lips as he thought about the day’s events, all fitting tributes to Seb.

Lawrence Prentiss’s insistence that he be present for a reading of Seb’s will left him scratching his head, though. Why would he be in Seb’s will? Then again, why not? Their relationship was more than boss and employee. They’d gone fishing together and played pool on Friday nights at Durango’s Tavern. Mark had become involved in some of Seb’s charity projects, such as helping out at the community center’s free Thanksgiving dinner.

Seb had often told Mark he was like a son. “I had a son...once,” he’d say. If they were in his office, his gaze would stray to the photos on his desk.

His thoughts returned to the will. Seb had probably left him a token of appreciation for his friendship and loyalty.

No surprise that Eva was in the will. Even though they’d been estranged, she and Seb were still blood. What a shame the two hadn’t spent Seb’s last years together in harmony.

* * *

“‘I, SEBASTIAN FRANKLIN SINCLAIR, of sound mind, do declare this as my last will and testament...’”

Seated at an oval table in Lawrence Prentiss’s office, Eva listened to the lawyer begin the reading of her father’s will. After waiting nearly half an hour for the meeting to get under way, and then having to sit through the lawyer’s small talk about the weather, she realized her nerves were more on edge than ever.

She glanced at Mark, who was seated across from her. His attention was on Lawrence, but he didn’t look any happier about being here than she was.

The first bequests were to charities, including the local hospital, the animal shelter and the University of Washington’s School of Journalism. The last designation didn’t surprise Eva; both she and her father were alumni.

The bequest to UCLA was puzzling, until Lawrence said to Mark, “I believe that’s where you studied journalism, isn’t it?”

Mark nodded. “That was nice of Seb to give them something.”

Lawrence turned to the next page. “‘To my daughter, Eva, I bequeath my property at 880 Oak Avenue and all structures thereon and all personal and tangible property contained therein.’”

The house she’d grown up in was to be hers? Why had Seb bothered to leave her the house? She didn’t want it and would never live there again.

She expected that to be the end of the reading, but Lawrence continued, “‘To my daughter, Eva, and to Mark Townson, I bequeath the entire holdings of the Willow Beach Herald. Each shall receive 50 percent of the total assets comprised by the newspaper...’”

Eva gasped, unable to believe what she’d heard. Besides the house, her father was leaving her 50 percent of the newspaper? Why, when she’d refused to work there or to have anything to do with his publication?

Lawrence cleared his throat. “‘...subject to the following provisions. One, that both Mark and Eva assume coeditorship of the newspaper for the period of one year.’”

“What?” Eva blurted and half rose from her chair.

Lawrence held up his hand. “Let me finish, please.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled and sank back into her seat.

“‘Two, if either party declines to accept the terms, neither inherits and the Herald shall be auctioned to the highest bidder. Neither party may bid on the Herald or in any way be associated with a bidding party.

“‘Three, after assuming coleadership of the Herald for the proscribed year, both parties are free to do as they please regarding their involvement with said newspaper.’”

“What on earth was Seb thinking?” Mark said, obviously as shocked as she was.

Eva shook her head in disbelief. “He must have been crazy. But it won’t work.”

“I’m afraid the will is ironclad.” Lawrence tapped the sheaf of papers with his forefinger.

“But the terms are impossible.” Eva looked from one man to the other. “I have a life, a career in Seattle. I can’t give up everything to come here for a year. It’s different for you, Mark. You already work at the Herald.”