Free Grim Haven (Devilborn Book 1) by Jen Rasmussen Page A

they discovered Kestrel Wick’s body? Had they tied it to Cooper or me? Had they tied her to the fire? What about my neighbor?
    It all seemed so distant now, like it had happened to somebody else. But the reminder actually gave me courage. Surely if I could handle all that, Marjory Smith wouldn’t be an insurmountable challenge.
    “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mr. Pickwick waited until Lance and I sat down—Lance beside his wife, which left me to take the seat beside Marjory—before sitting himself. “As to your question,” Pickwick went on, “I’m a lawyer, but I’m not really here today in a legal capacity.”
    “Then what capacity are you here in?” I asked. “Because I’m feeling a bit like I could use a lawyer.”
    Mr. Pickwick chuckled. “More as a mediator, if you like. You’re right that Marjory and the Boyles don’t have a legal stake here, but they have a, shall we say, personal interest? And it would be nice to work out everyone’s concerns without things getting to the point of formal proceedings. It’s irregular, but this town has always done things a little bit differently, as I’m sure you would agree.”
    That was for sure. I still had horrible nightmares about Miss Underwood coming for me every time I got a fever or the flu. I sighed and nodded. “All right then, Mr. Pickwick. What do you suggest?”
    “Well, I wouldn’t have disturbed your life in New England if I wasn’t entirely confident that you are the rightful heir to Madeline Underwood’s estate.” He looked at Marjory. “But I wanted to lay it out for everyone, all at once, in hopes of getting this resolved today. I know we’d all like to move forward.”
    “You have no definitive proof that Max is dead,” Marjory said. “Nor that Mark is, for that matter.”
    “No, but I don’t need it,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Madeline’s will is quite clear. Even if you produced Max in the flesh right here and now, you’d have an uphill battle on your hands.”
    “The Underwood fortune wasn’t Madeline’s to distribute as she saw fit!” Marjory said. “It belonged to their parents! And when they died, it should have passed to all of the children equally. You can’t simply ignore—”
    “—a case you would be free to make in court,” Mr. Pickwick interrupted. “Or at least, Max or Mark would be free to do so, if they were alive. But then, by all accounts, Max was incompetent. Oh, you would probably be able to get some provisions made for him, but—”
    “Listen to you,” I interrupted, staring at Marjory. “The other day you told me you were doing this because taking care of Max is what Madeline would have wanted. Now you’re saying what she wanted is irrelevant. So what exactly are you after?”
    Was it the hotel? Did she want to set up Max as some kind of figurehead, under her control? But Marjory had her own job, her own life. What would she want with the Mount Phearson?
    Marjory glared down her long nose at me. Her dead eyes had always given me chills as a child. But I was a grown woman now, and I could at least hide how horrifying I found her. I didn’t break eye contact.
    “As I’ve already told you,” she said, “I’m only thinking of Max. Perhaps you were right the other day. Perhaps I didn’t do enough for him… before. But someone should be thinking of him now.”
    “Marjory,” Mr. Pickwick said. “Lance and Agatha here are making a lot of changes to the hotel. Changes they hope will make a brighter future for all of Bristol. They’d like to continue to do that with confidence, but they won’t be able to in the middle of some long, drawn-out battle for the Phearson. It would be better for everyone—the entire community—if you would just let this go.”
    So that’s it. Of course.
    It came down to control. Not just for Marjory, but for all of them. Bristol was a getaway town. It relied on the Mount Phearson. Whoever controlled the hotel controlled, to a large degree, the entire town by