Page 4 of Searching for Sunshine (Crestbrook Cove #1)

STELLA

“ H i, I’m here to see Mr. Marshall,” I tell the receptionist as I step into the Marshall & Smith Law office on Monday afternoon.

She smiles warmly at me before gesturing to a small seating area in the corner of the room. “Of course, he told me we were expecting you. Just have a seat and he’ll be with you shortly.”

“Perfect, thank you,” I answer, taking a seat and pulling out my phone to text Avery.

Stella: Made it to Crestbrook Cove. Meeting with the lawyer now and then I’ll be home later tonight.

Avery: Sounds good. Don’t forget I need all the details as soon as you know what’s going on.

Stella: I’m still sure it’s nothing but I’ll make sure to let you know. See you in a few hours.

I’ve just hit send when one of the small office doors opens and the man I’m assuming is Mr. Marshall emerges. He looks to be in his late seventies, and his suit hangs awkwardly from his frail body. He hobbles over to me and offers me a stern smile before reaching out his hand to shake mine.

“Hi, Miss Hale. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me at the last minute. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

“Oh, it wasn’t bad. I live in Alabama, but it’s pretty close to the state line and the tourists don’t seem to have descended yet, so traffic wasn’t too bad,” I tell him as he leads me into his office.

The room is so covered with books, boxes, and stacks of paper that I have to follow directly behind him through a path to his desk.

I have no idea how he finds anything in here, but as soon as we sit down, he shuffles through a box behind his desk and pulls out a huge folder.

After slamming it on the desk, he collapses into the overstuffed leather desk chair and looks over his wide-rimmed glasses at me before motioning for me to sit in the small wooden desk chair across from him.

As soon as I’m seated, he sighs and starts, “Listen, Miss Hale. I’ve got to be honest. Mrs. Betty was one of my favorite clients, and she did a lot for the town of Crestbrook Cove over the years.

But as you know, your grandmother was a bit particular on how she wanted things done, and I’m afraid her will was no different.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little confused about her requests, but I promised her I’d fulfill her wishes.

So let’s get to it,” he tells me, pulling an envelope out of the folder.

“Okay,” I say hesitantly, feeling my anxiety rise at his tone.

“With that being said, your grandmother named you the sole proprietor of the High Tide Hideaway Hotel here in Crestbrook Cove, but that comes with provisions. In order to take over the hotel, you must agree to take full responsibility of the property for at least a year. You would be expected to live in the house behind the property and take on a full management role. If you should choose to decline the offer, the hotel will be sold to the land developers and the money from the sale will be donated to one of the local charities—if we can even find one of them willing to accept the money. The Hideaway is a local landmark, and this town has banded together for decades to keep these money-hungry developers out. I can’t tell you what to do, but I urge you to think long and hard about how you want to handle this. ”

He pauses and I stare at him with my mouth open in shock. “I’m sorry, but you mean move to Crestbrook Cove full-time and take over the hotel?”

“Yes. There’s also a small fund available for renovations to the property, and there’s a handful of staff members who have been working to keep the hotel going since Betty’s passing who I’m sure will be willing to help you should you decide to take on the responsibility,” he continues, clearly oblivious to my shock.

“Uh, wow. Okay, I don’t know what to say,” I admit, still trying to get over my shock.

“I’m afraid there’s a bit more to it, though,” Mr. Marshall says with a wince.

“More?” I ask, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“Yes. Uh, in order to take over the Hideaway, your grandmother made the stipulation that you have to be married.”

I freeze. “Married? I have to be married?”

Mr. Marshall shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m afraid so, Miss Hale. Your grandmother was also very thorough and specified that he must also reside in the cottage behind the hotel.”

“No, no, no. There’s no way. Do you realize I haven’t been on a date in two years? How the hell am I supposed to find someone to marry?”

The lawyer across the desk shrugs at me. “I understand your shock, Miss Hale, but it is what it is.”

“Is this even legal?” I ask, blinking as I try to process everything he’s telling me.

“I’ll be the first to admit it’s a bit unusual, but it’s not against the law. And we both know your grandmother was known for being unconventional.”

I just stare at him for a moment before he continues, “But as I told you on the phone, this matter is a bit time-sensitive. Your grandmother stipulated that you’d have three months from her passing in order to make a decision, but considering the trouble we had contacting you, that deadline is coming up at the end of the week. ”

Unable to help myself, I burst into laughter. “Wait, wait, wait. So you’re telling me that not only do I have to move to Crestbrook Cove, take over the hotel, and find a husband, but I have to do it all in the next five days?”

“I’m afraid that’s correct,” Mr. Marshall says apologetically.

“I will say though, it’s not my place to offer advice to you, but legally, your grandmother couldn’t stipulate that you have to be in love.

She just said you had to be married and live on the property for a year.

If you can find a way to make that happen, then at the end of the one year mark the High Tide Hideaway is yours to do what you want to with.

You can find someone to manage it, move away, sell it to someone local—whatever you think is right. ”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” I tell him, trying to think of anyone I could recruit to take on the challenge of the next year with me, but I come up empty.

“And there’s one more thing,” the lawyer continues, and I fight the tears threatening my eyes.

“What? What else could there possibly be?” I explode, my usual calm and cheerful demeanor completely gone with the stress of everything he’s just told me.

“Your grandmother left you a letter. I don’t know what’s inside it, but I think you should read it before you make a decision,” he suggests, holding out the cream envelope he’s held in his hands while we talked.

I take it with a shaking hand, unsure I’m capable of reading it with how fragile my emotions feel right now.

Deciding to get it over with, I blow out a long breath before tearing the seal of the envelope and pulling out the letter.

My eyes well with tears at the sight of her familiar loopy cursive, and I let them fall as I start to read.

My sweet Stella,

It may be selfish of me to make such a big ask of you while you’re in the prime years of your life, but I couldn’t think of anyone in the world who would take better care of the Hideaway than you.

I hope you don’t hate me for the decisions I’ve made, but the hotel was your home for all those summers we spent together, and I wanted you to have the option to make it your home again.

I know it’s a lot to ask, but I do hope you’ll consider continuing the legacy your Pops and I built over the last fifty years.

I also hope that by the time you read this, I watched you walk down the aisle, and you’re married to the man of your dreams so the marriage stipulation isn’t a concern.

But if that isn’t the case, just know I didn’t add this requirement out of spite.

When your Pops died, I realized how impossible it was to run the place by myself, and I couldn’t let you take that on because of an old hag like me.

No matter what you decide, just know I’m always proud of you and I’m always in your corner. I may not be physically here anymore, but I hope you think of me any time you feel the sea breeze on your face or the sand between your toes. Anytime you need someone to listen, I’m always here.

I love you always, my sweet girl.

Memaw

By the time I finish the note I’m fighting full-on sobs, but I try to pull myself together as I look back up at Mr. Marshall. He awkwardly digs into his desk drawer before pulling out a travel-sized case of tissues and handing me one.

“I know this was a lot to process, and I’m sorry for that, Miss Hale.

I really do think your grandmother had good intentions with all of this, and I really hope you’ll think long and hard about what you want to do.

You can call my office tomorrow or Wednesday with a decision,” the old man says, and I force a smile.

“Yes sir. I really appreciate it. I’ll call you in the next few days when I’ve had time to wrap my brain around all of this. Thank you,” I tell him, trying to keep it together until I make it to my car.

The secretary smiles at me as I leave, and I’m distantly aware of her speaking to me, but all I can think about is making it out the front door. As soon as I feel the humid, salty air on my face I gulp in a few deep breaths and run to my car where I finally break into a fit of body-wracking sobs.