Page 131 of Until Next Summer

Just an hour ago, I went to the office to send Jessie a text to see if there were any updates. She replied that she and Luke had arrived at the courthouse, but there was no sign of the judge. I was planning on going back to the office to check in again soon.

Cooper reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It’s okay—we’ll stall them. It’ll be fine.”

I squeeze back, appreciating his certainty. Still, a thousand worries flood my mind: what if the judge refuses to sign the injunction? What if Jessie and Luke run into traffic or road construction or get in a car accident? What if we can’t hold the construction vehicles off any longer? The bulldozer is poised a few feet from the director’s cabin, Jessie’s literal home, a structure that has been there for over a hundred years. It’s irreplaceable.

Cooper takes our plates and puts them in the sink, and together we head outside into the morning sunshine. From the patio outside the dining hall, we have a clear view of the parking lot below. Three unfamiliar vehicles have just pulled in.

My heart leaps to my throat.

A stocky man in work pants and a plaid shirt climbs out of a big white Ford F-150—maybe the contractor? He’s followed by a tall man in dark jeans and a blazer, exiting a silver Tesla. He’s the buyer; I recognize him from the site visit a few weeks ago. Then, finally, Jack Valentine gets out of his shiny black BMW, followed by Mary Valentine from the passenger seat.

“They’re not supposed to be here until eleven,” I say, panic settling over me.

“It’ll be okay,” Cooper says, but I catch a hint of concern in his voice, too.

The three men head up the hill toward us, Mary following behind them. The men are talking and laughing, looking so pleased with themselves, it makes me sick.

When the group gets closer, Jack notices Cooper and me, and his smile drops. “Not you again,” he says, clearly annoyed. “Don’t bother trying to stop us. The sale is as good as done.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, stupidly.

Jack huffs out a dismissive laugh and keeps walking. I feel myself falling in line the way I have around controlling men all of my life—but then I remember how good it felt to find my voice when I was talking to my dad yesterday. I take a deep breath and gather the courage to use it again.

“The sale is off,” I say, the words ringing out loud and clear. “The demolition’s not happening.”

Jack frowns. “We already had this conversation, and I believe I made myself clear. Now—”

“We found your mother’s will,” I snap, and Jack’s eyes widen. “There’s a clause that will nullify all of this.” I pull the will out of the folder I’m holding and flip through it. “Right here. Page seven, paragraph two. ‘If any named beneficiary of the estate plans to continue to use the property as a summer camp, the other beneficiaries may not sell.’ ”

The buyer of the property speaks up, directing a question to Jack. “What is she talking about?”

Jack brushes this off. “Nothing to worry about—the girl’s getting money from the sale, but she doesn’t own a big enough percentage to stop us.”

“She doesn’t care about the money,” I say, defiantly. “She cares about the camp. And she’s on her way back from the courthouse as we speak with a signed injunction from a judge ordering a stop to the sale—and the construction—until the will can be reviewed.”

Jack’s eyes narrow, like he’s weighing his options and seeing what he can get away with. “She isn’t here? Then I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish.”

“She’s on her way—an hour out, tops,” I say, hoping it’s true. I don’t know if Jessie and Luke have evenseenthe judge yet.

The buyer sighs, frustrated. “We have a tight schedule to stick to—”

“You don’t want to start demolition on a property you may not legally own, do you?” I say, my voice sharp. I’m channeling my professional persona now, though it feels like a too-tight pair of jeans, ones I’ve outgrown. They may not be comfortable, but I can still zip them up and get the job done.

Cooper gives me an impressed look.

The buyer glances at the expensive Rolex on his wrist. “Fine. We’ll wait until eleven o’clock. If this alleged beneficiary arrives before then, we’ll take a look at the injunction. If not?” He shrugs. “We move forward.”

“I’m going to go ahead and get things set up,” the contractor says, speaking with all the confidence of a mediocre white man. The buyer looks pleased, and the two of them take off across the property. Jack shoots me a peeved look, then scuttles after them.

Before Mary can follow, I put a hand on her arm. “Mary, Cooper just made a batch of Arnold Palmers with fresh basil. Do you want to come sit and have a glass?”

She gives a grateful nod. “Thank you, dear. That would be lovely.”

—

Over the next hour, Cooper, Mary, and I sit on the porch and wait, sipping our lemonade, keeping an eagle eye on everything going on. I reiterate our plan to Mary, explaining that the will is crystal clear and that our co-op is prepared to buy her and Jack out like we discussed a few weeks ago. Jack can have his money, and Jessie can keep the camp.

Then, just in case Jessie doesn’t make it back in time, I make sure Mary knows how much power she has. With Jessie’s one percent ownership, she and Mary could team up to be majority owners. Mary could be a hero, stopping her evil brother from destroying their parents’ legacy.

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