Page 14 of Never Been Gargoyled (Harmony Glen #4)

Dazy

“ Y ou want to fly me to the meeting?” I stared at Feydin, my brain trying to process what he'd said. “Like, not taking my car that?—”

“Would crush my wings.”

“But…actually fly? Through the air?”

“It's the easiest way to town.” His expression grew concerned. “Unless you'd prefer to drive?”

“No, it's not that.” Well, it was partly that. The idea of being carried through the sky was both terrifying and thrilling. “I'm worried about the meeting.”

“Ah.” His shoulders relaxed. “I thought you were afraid of flying.”

“I am a bit nervous about that too. I've never flown before. Unless you count airplanes, which I don't think is the same thing.”

“It's not.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Flying with me will be much better.”

“How do you know? ”

“No security lines. No cramped seats. And the view is spectacular.”

Despite my nerves, I found myself smiling back. “When you put it that way...”

“Trust me,” he said, his voice going soft.

Those two words hit me square in the chest. With Feydin, I wanted to. Very much.

“Okay,” I said. “But if you drop me, I'm haunting this estate forever.”

“I would never drop you.” The fierceness in his voice made my stomach flutter. “You're safe with me.”

He led me outside and around to the back lawn where there was more space. “I'll need to carry you. The easiest way is if you wrap your arms around my neck and let me support you.”

“Like a piggyback ride?”

“More like…” He paused, seeming to search for the right comparison. “Have you ever seen those old movies where the hero carries the woman away?”

My skin prickled. “You mean like, romantically?”

“Functionally,” he said quickly, though his cheeks had darkened. “For safety.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.” I stepped closer to him, catching that scent of whatever soap he’d used. “How, though?”

“Put your arms around my neck.” His voice came out rough, and he stooped down to my level.

“You’re tall.”

“Yes, I am. You’re not.”

I snorted. “You noticed that, huh?”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? ”

“Right.” I reached up and slipped my arms around his neck, needing to stand on my toes to do so. The moment my hands touched his skin, his wings snapped outward. I thought this was it, he’d leap off the ground and I’d dangle. Maybe fall.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Reflex.”

“Does it tickle when I touch you?”

“Something like that.”

He slid one arm under my knees and the other around my back, lifting me against his chest. The world tilted and suddenly I was cradled against him, my face inches from his throat.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

Comfortable wasn't the word I'd use. Overwhelmed, maybe. Breathless, definitely. But I nodded anyway.

“Hold tight,” he said.

His wings spread wide, casting shadows on the ground. I'd seen his wings before, but up close like this, they were magnificent. The membrane looked soft as the nicest leather, with intricate patterns of veins running through them.

Before I could quiz him about his wings, we were airborne.

My stomach dropped as we lifted off the ground. I buried my face in his neck with a small shriek, then forced myself to look up. We were already above the treetops, the estate growing smaller below us.

“Oh my,” I breathed .

“Good or bad?” Feydin asked, his arms tightening around me. His wings flapped, creating a breeze.

“Good. Definitely good.” I stared down at the landscape spread out below us. The gardens I'd been working on looked tiny from up here, neat patches of green and brown. “This is incredible.”

“I told you the view was spectacular.”

Sadly, the flight to town took only a few minutes. Feydin landed behind the tea shop and set me down gently on my feet.

“How was that?” he asked, studying my face, his own expression intent.

“Amazing.” I smoothed down my dress, trying to get my bearings. “I can see why you like flying.”

I swore joy flashed across his face before he smoothed it.

“We should go,” he said, smoothing his suit jacket. “We don't want to be late.”

The tea shop was adorably decorated, with cute tables and chairs—all empty, and a counter where they served tea. But I’d already seen they didn’t serve any food. It was a wonder they could stay in business. In fact, this one looked like it was failing.

We found a table near the back where we could see the entrance but still have some privacy. Although, that might not be an issue if they had no customers. My stomach was doing nervous flips, and not the good kind.

“She’s not here yet.”

“That gives us the advantage.” Feydin's lawyer voice was back. “Remember not to volunteer information. Answer her questions as briefly as possible but don't elaborate unless she asks for details.”

“What if she asks something I don't know how to answer?”

“Then you tell her you need to consult with your attorney.” He leaned forward. “That's me.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and tightened my spine. “I can do this.”

“You can.”

The door chimed and a woman walked in, scanning the room. She was exactly what I'd expected from her photos: polished, put-together, and intimidating as hell. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect chignon, and her navy-blue suit probably cost more than my car.

“That's her,” I whispered.

Feydin turned to look, his expression carefully neutral.

She spotted us and walked over, her heels clicking on the floor. Up close, she was older than her photos suggested, with fine lines around her eyes and a weariness that her makeup couldn't quite hide.

“Ms. Osborne?” she said, extending a manicured hand toward me. “I'm Rebecca Hartwell. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Of course.” I shook her hand, noting her firm grip. “This is my attorney, Feydin.”

Rebecca's eyes widened when she took in Feydin's wings and tail, but she recovered quickly. “Mr…”

“Budiere,” Feydin said smoothly. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hartwell. ”

“Likewise.” She settled into the chair across from us, placing a leather portfolio on the table. “I hope you don't mind, but I'd prefer to get straight to business. I'm sure you're both busy people.”

“Not at all,” I said, though my palms were sweating.

Rebecca opened her portfolio and pulled out several documents. “I've brought copies of everything. Birth certificate, adoption papers, documentation of my relationship to Helga Morrison.”

She slid the papers across the table. Feydin picked them up, studying each one carefully.

“This birth certificate lists Helga Morrison as your mother,” he said after a moment.

“That's correct. She was unmarried, with no support system as far as I can tell. From what I’ve learned since I was allowed to view my adoption paperwork and then doing research online, she lived here in Harmony Glen in that big old estate, but she wasn’t wealthy.

She hid the fact that she was pregnant, but you know how things were back then.

Then she made the difficult decision to place me for adoption. ”

Rebecca's expression softened. “I tried to contact her many times over the years, but she never responded to my letters.”

That sounded like Helga. She'd been fiercely private about her personal life. Maybe once she’d made the decision to give her child away, she’d closed the door on that part of her life and had no interest in reopening it again.

“I'm sorry,” I said, and meant it. “That must’ve been painful. ”

“It was.” Rebecca straightened her shoulders. “But I understand her reasons. She was scared. Alone. She…” She stared down at her hands clasped on top of her briefcase before her stoic gaze met mine. “She didn’t name my father, so I have no idea who he is.”

My father wasn’t wonderful, but at least he’d loved and claimed me as his own.

“What is it you want from Ms. Osborne?” Feydin kept his tone carefully neutral.

“I want what's rightfully mine.” Rebecca's voice grew firmer. “Helga was my biological mother. As her daughter, I have a legal claim to her estate.”

“She left a will,” I said. “She wanted me to have everything.”

“Wills can be contested, especially when there are legitimate heirs who weren't considered.” Rebecca pulled out another document. “I'm prepared to be reasonable about this. I know you've already moved in and started making plans. I'm willing to compensate you for your trouble.”

I reeled back in my chair, my belly turning to cement. “Compensate me?”

“I'll pay you fair market value for your claim. Enough for you to buy a nice house somewhere else.”

The dismissive tone in her voice made my spine stiffen. “I don't want to sell.”

“Ms. Osborne, I don't think you understand the scope of what you're dealing with. Winterbourne Estate is a significant property with a complex history. It requires someone with experience and resources to manage it properly.”

“And you have that experience?” I asked.

Rebecca waved a hand. “I'll learn what I need to know. I have contacts in the horticultural industry.”

“What about the building itself? It's a big house for one person.”

“I'll probably live in town. The house isn't really the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“The gardens.” Rebecca's eyes grew bright with excitement. “I want to turn them into a botanical garden. Open them to the public. Educational programs, research facilities, an exclusive restaurant for the richest clientele who’ll arrive by helicopter, of course.”

Of course?

My heart sank. She wanted to create a botanical garden there? That was my idea.

“You want to run it as a business,” Feydin said.

“Who wouldn’t? The property has incredible potential. With the right investment and marketing, it could be a significant tourist attraction.”

“And if Ms. Osborne refuses your offer?” Feydin asked.

Rebecca's expression tightened. “Then I'll have no choice but to pursue legal action. I'm confident that any court will recognize my rights as Helga's biological daughter.”

“We'll need time to review your documentation,” Feydin said before I could respond, but boy, did I sputter .

“Naturally.” Rebecca gathered her papers and stood, only sending me a vague glance. “Don't take too long. I'm prepared to file a formal petition by the end of the week.”

She pulled out a business card and placed it on the table. “My offer is generous, Ms. Osborne. More than generous, considering it appears you don't actually own the estate.”

With that parting shot, she turned and strode out of the tea shop, leaving me staring after her.

“Well,” I said finally. “That went about as well as I expected.”

“She's confident.” Feydin studied the documents she'd left behind. “But confidence doesn't make her case legal.”

“What do you think? Is she really Helga's daughter?”

“The documents look legitimate. But even if they are, it doesn't automatically invalidate Helga's will.”

I slumped back in my chair. “She would like to do exactly what I want to do with the gardens.”

“But not for the same reasons.” Feydin reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “She sees dollar signs. You see beauty.”

“Will that matter to a judge?”

“It might. But we're not giving up without a fight.”

His hand was warm and strong over mine, and for the first time since Rebecca walked into the tea shop, I felt like maybe everything would be okay.

“So what's our next move?” I asked .

“We do more homework,” Feydin said grimly. “Starting with finding out everything else we can about Rebecca Hartwell.”