Page 14 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove

Hunter nodded over his shoulder, toward the lobby where Seb Jonathon had just been standing. “Why didn’t you hear Seb out, Dad?”

His dad shot him a look of dismay. “Not you too…”

Hunter rushed forward. “Come on, Dad. Moving the business back to the island is a good idea.”

“We don’t have the capacity, Hunt. In case you didn’t notice.” He grabbed a haphazard handful of papers and let them fall back to the desk. “We’re drowning here.”

“Only because you can’t trust us enough to get work done. We should be doing jobs that we can really put our stamp on,” Hunter replied. “Something we can slow down and put all our attention on, take the time to get perfect. I’m sorry, I know you’re afraid to mess up again, especially back on Jonathon, but?—”

“The answer is no.” His father ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Dad…”

“I’m not going back to the island, Hunt. It’s not happening.”

A tense silence filled the air, seeping into Hunter’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Fine.”

His father stared at him for a long moment and let out a heavy breath. He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little late. Where’ve you been?”

Oh, no. They were far from done arguing.

“How long have you been planning to sell the house?” Hunter asked, cutting to the chase.

A flash of surprise crossed his face, and then his dad let out an exhausted breath, shaking his head. “I talked to Mia about it a couple of months ago?—”

“A couple ofmonths?” Hunter reeled back. “Don’t you think that’s something that you should have talked to your sons about?”

His dad picked up a pencil, fidgeting with it as he avoided Hunter’s eye. “I was going to talk to you boys, trust me. I just asked her to put some feelers out. See if there was anybody asking.”

“And?”

His eyes flashed back to Hunter, his shoulders sagging slightly. “And I’ve got a few people I’m talking to.”

Talking to? That sounded like a lot more than putting out some feelers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Dad.” Hunter ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I want to see the trust documents?—”

“Hunter—”

“I want to see them. You can’t sell the house; it’s not yours to sell.” He could feel his chest tightening, his temper rising at the betrayal. It was supposed to be the Barrett family home. Forever. A home that would pass down generation to generation. Giving them all a place to stay tethered. The Barrett house was family. And you didn’t abandon family when things fell apart, or because of a little “bad luck.”

His dad stared at him for a long moment, as though trying to decide if he was serious. He finally huffed out a breath, shaking his head as he opened his filing cabinet. He rifled around for a minute and then slapped a thick manila folder onto the desk. “Have at it.”

* * *

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, pulling the blue from the sky, as evening fell on Port Joseph. Hunter sat in the bed of his truck, the cold glass of the window behind him soothing against his neck. The distant horn of the approaching ferry barely registered as he stared at the envelope in his hands.

With a deep breath, he opened it and began to read.

The Barrett house is held within the Barrett Family Living Trust, with the oldest generation—that would be his dad—acting as trustee…Followed by a bunch of legal jargon. Hunter skipped to the section about selling the house.

The property holder has the right to sell the property, with the proceeds to be distributed among family members or used for other purposes specified by the trust, only if (any of the following):

The next generation hasn’t met the conditions outline section II of the trust by the end of their thirtieth year.

The upkeep of the property becomes financially unfeasible for the trust.

There are no eligible heirs in the next generation.

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