Page 244 of The Maxwell Brothers

"Declan, I know an evasive maneuver when I hear one."

"Gran, you have a question for Reese."

"No. I'm going to ask you some more. Call me when you have time."

"Sure, Gran. Have a great day."

We usually didn't keep things from each other. Except when they got really bad, like they did with Reese and her ex, Malcolm. Their breakup had been unbelievably shitty. She found out shortly before they were about to get married that he’d cheated on her. Reese had been devastated. To make matters worse, the two of them had wanted to go into business together, opening a spa on the upper floors of a building owned by Gran. Obviously, once their relationship was over, Reese didn’t want anything to do with him. But the moron insisted on going through with the business. He’d even sued Gran for refusing to rent him those upper floors, citing that he and the company he worked with had already invested money in the project by doing market research and preparing to lease the building next door too. We’d kept it from Gran for a long time, and she hadn’t been happy with us.

My phone rang again, and I thought it might be Gran, but to my astonishment, it was my assistant, Greta.

"Hey, boss," she said.

"Hey, how are things? Anything requiring me to come to the office?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. I know on days like this, you like to work from home."

Her voice was wavering. She only did that when she had some bad news.

"Spit it out."

"Remember how you told me to keep an eye on Malcolm in case he makes weird moves?"

My gut clenched. "Yes."

"Rumor has it he's hired Gregory Ashburn."

Fuck.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. A friend of a friend of a friend is working in his office.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do, boss.”

Every time I thought about that worm, a vein pulsed in my temple. If he was lawyering up with Ashburn, that was bad news. We might not have confirmation that it was to go against us, but it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Ashburn was a slimeball. He was a dirty lawyer, borderline corrupt. But there was a reason why I was a damned good lawyer. Taking down questionable morons was my expertise.

On the drive home, I mentally checked what Malcolm could sue us for this time. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to pursue the spa space again. He knew he’d never get it. He was an idiot to go after us for that in the first place.

If it had been about a random building the family owned, maybe we would even have let him do it, to spare Reese any further angst. But that was the first building Gran and our grandfather ever bought, and where they opened the first bookstore. Even after the sale of the chain, Gran kept the store there, naming it The Happy Place. No way would I allow thatmoron to do business in a building where Gran went almost daily.

No, I was convinced he wouldn’t try that again—especially because he didn’t even work at his old firm anymore, so he couldn’t use the excuse that they’d already invested money. I’d gotten him fired. The Halsey Group seemed happy to be rid of him—they claimed he’d been a slacker but kept promising to bring in a lot of business through the Maxwell connections.

Once I got home, I changed out of my suit and into jeans and a T-shirt. I knew exactly what would help me get rid of the adrenaline: manual labor. The attic still wasn’t finished, but I didn’t want workers inside the house after I moved in, so I worked on it whenever I had time. Today’s task was simple: I had to sand the floors.

I already had all the tools up there, so I started working right away. Manual labor demanded all my attention. I couldn’t let my mind wander, though thoughts of Malcolm did pop in from time to time.

I liked restoring this place. Growing up, I always liked helping Dad with tasks around the house. Even though he could have easily afforded to hire someone, my family had a strict rule: “Don’t pay anyone to do stuff you can do yourself.”

Dad taught me a lot, and when I bought this house, I realized just how much I enjoyed restoring it. Obviously, I didn’t have time to do everything myself. My brother Luke found me an excellent crew that worked on it for months, but there was plenty for me to do, and I was in no hurry.

An hour later, I stopped working, looking around in satisfaction. I wasn’t done because the attic was huge, but I’d made decent progress. And I felt much calmer.

I descended the staircase, then went outside, going directly to the yard, intending to take some of the tools to the shed in the back. I wanted to work there next.

To my surprise, Liz was in front of the guest house. And just like that, my day got a whole lot better.