The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(90)

Together, we make our way into the house, Uncle Dad and Paul helping with the luggage. When we reach the inside, there’s a man sitting at the large, wooden dining room table with a folder in front of him.

I turn to Dad in confusion and he grips my shoulder. “Crew, Hazel, this is Mr. Earnshaw. He’s Pops’s lawyer.”

Oh shit.

I glance at Hazel and her face pales. She immediately retreats inside herself, and her arms fold over her chest, as if to give herself a reassuring hug.

“Let’s all have a seat,” Mr. Earnshaw says.

Mom and Dad guide us to the table and I attempt to sit next to Hazel, but Uncle Paul takes that seat and I’m forced to sit across from her. I try to make eye contact with her, but she’s avoiding me.

I don’t blame her. I’ve been acting strange. I know I’ve been acting strange, but I can’t seem to wake myself up from the daze I’m in.

“How was the trip?” Mr. Earnshaw asks while taking a seat. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, thank you,” I answer. Hazel just nods.

I can practically feel her nerves from all the way over here.

“I’m glad to hear it. Your grandfather put great time into planning it. We were good friends, and I’m sad to have seen him pass. He was a great man.”

“Thank you,” Mom and Uncle Paul say together.

Mr. Earnshaw flips open his folder and says, “I appreciate you making the time for me. I apologize for having to bombard you like this, as I’m sure you two are jet-lagged, but I have family matter that’s pulling me out of town tomorrow and I won’t be back in time to take this meeting.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem,” Mom says.

“I think we should get right down to business. Bernie left a letter for each Marley, Porter, and Paul.” Mr. Earnshaw hands them out. “I’m unsure of the contents, but what I do know is that he wrote them to let you know how proud he is of all of you.” Mr. Earnshaw pulls out another stack of letters and hands them to Uncle Paul. “These are for Savannah and the girls. Within the cards for your daughters, there is paperwork for savings accounts Bernie made in their names. It’s not an influx of cash but something he thought they might want to use for college loans or building the next chapter in their lives.”

“Thank you,” Uncle Paul says, already tearing up.

“Now, I’m to read a note from Bernie. Please bear with me as my eyes are old.” Mr. Earnshaw puts on a pair of round reading glasses and then picks up the folder. “‘Hello, family—that includes you, Hazel.’”

I glance at Hazel but can’t read her. Her head is turned down and her hands are in her lap. One look would tell me everything, but she’s giving nothing away.

“‘Thank you for being patient with my will. My intentions were to have it read to you right away to make the transition easy, but it mattered to me that Hazel and Crew went on their trip before the will was read. Now that they’re back, we can get down to business. As you know, an investment group has been very interested in the farm. They’ve offered quite a hefty sum for the property and the land. But the decision to sell isn’t on me.’”

I watch as Hazel visibly tenses. I want to reach out to her, hold her, let her know I’m there for her.

“‘The decision is on you. The four of you all share twenty-five percent ownership of the land and the property.’”

My head snaps to Mr. Earnshaw. “What? Who’s in the four?”

Mr. Earnshaw says, “Porter and Marley count as a single group since they’re married. The four would be them, you, Paul, and Hazel.”

“Me?” Hazel says, looking up. Her eyes are glazed over with tears, her face almost unrecognizable as she tries to comprehend what’s happening.

“Yes, you, Hazel. Bernie not only saw you as a granddaughter, but as a business partner. He made a note of that in the files in case you questioned. You have done a lot for the farm and he wanted you to be recognized for it.”

“As she should be,” Mom says, offering a kind smile.

“You’ve always been part of the family, kiddo,” Uncle Paul says, giving her a good shake and side hug, causing her welled-up tears to spill over her cheeks. She quickly wipes them away, though.

“Shall I continue?” Mr. Earnshaw asks. Dad nods. “‘I’m giving you equal shares because this farm has meant something special to every one of you and I want to give you an opportunity to decide what to do with it together. If you decide to sell, the money should be split four ways. If you decide to keep the farm, you’ll become a board of directors with Hazel as the CEO of operations. She knows the most about the farm at this point, and I’ve taught her everything she knows. She’s the one who has helped grow this farm to the destination it is today, and I have confidence that she’d continue to grow it. The other jobs—well, that’s up to you. All or nothing. But, if you can’t come to an agreement by the fifteenth of February, then the farm will be sold to the investment firm, a stipulation I’ve already had drawn up.’”

“Wait.” Dad stops Mr. Earnshaw. “I don’t understand. If we don’t agree on what, precisely? Are we supposed to move out here and help with the farm?”

“According to the stipulation, he wants at least two out of the five of you to be present on the farm in order for it not to sell.”