Page 21 of That Thing You Brew
A sudden loud banging on my apartment door jolted us apart.
“Xavier!” a deep, unfamiliar male voice boomed. “Xavier Schwann, I know you’re in there!”
I jumped up from the table, heart racing, and placed a finger over my lips, motioning for Penny to go down the hall. “Hide,” I whispered.
She was out of her chair in a flash, and I walked slowly towards the door, scanning for something I could use for a weapon if it came to that.
Nothing. Note to self: Buy a baseball bat and keep it by the front door. Or bring in a hockey stick from the garage.
“Xavier! I know you’re in there. Your lights are on, and your windows aren’t covered. My name is J.R. Harlow. I represent your father, in Seattle. He gave me the access codes to your building. Will you please let me in? Time is of the essence!”
J.R. Harlow? The name sounded familiar. I pulled out my phone. So many messages. I scrolled to the unknown number and read his texts. I gaped at the screen. When he couldn’t reach me today, he’d flown here from Seattle to meet me in person.
I cleared my throat. “If you work for my father, tell me our family code word.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Do it or I’m calling security,” I ordered.
His exasperated sigh was audible through the door. “Fiiiiiine. Loopy doopy poopy schmoopy.”
I snickered. My youngest sister, Edyta, said those four words over and over again as a toddler. Every time she spoke them, we all cracked up, which encouraged her more. We were all sad when she outgrew it, so we collectively decided it would be the perfect family phrase to indicate a stranger was safe.
I unlocked the door. A short, stout man in a long leather trench coat breezed past me, straight to the table. “You, sir, have forty-eight hours—minus the sixteen we’ve already wasted today trying to connect with you—to decide if you want to inherit Schwannenschloss or not.”
I gripped the back of the nearest chair. “I’m sorry. What?”
He grumbled as he pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed me a single sheet of paper. “Your father was written out of your grandfather’s will. You are the heir. The heir must be married to inherit. Some medieval clause, yada yada, that states the chateau, grounds, contents, yada yada, will go to the next male in the succession line, and your father didn’t want it. Your grandfather knew this, and he knew he was dying, so he changed the beneficiary. It’s my job, on behalf of the former Baron von Schwann, to ensure that the heir is in compliance with the terms.”
I blinked at him. “The heir? Baron von Schwann? The chateau—the chateau ismine?”
“Not so fast. Halfway down the page. Read the highlight.”
I swallowed. Was this a bad dream? I needed to read it out loud to believe it was real. “‘If the next male in the line of succession is over the age of twenty and unmarried, he must find a bride by his next birthday. In order to ensure the heir takes this condition seriously, he must sign a contract within forty-eight hours of the death of the current Baron von Schwann promising his intentions to wed by said birthday.’”
My mouth hung open in disbelief.
“It’s barbaric,” JR spat. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in this century, at least.”
I was still trying to process. Opa hadn’t been joking when he’d ribbed me about my lack of dating.Vind a voman, Zavey-boy. Be happy, like your Opa.
That old schemer!
“So you’re saying that unless I sign this paper in the next twenty-two hours, I forfeit my inheritance and my whole family’s ability to return to the chateau? Who gets it if I don’t? Why can’t my sisters inherit?” My voice rose with each question.
“All valid inquiries. I have zero definitive answers for you. I’m here strictly to obtain your signature on this facsimile, one way or the other. Unless you want to go back to Schwannenschloss and sign the original.”
“But this is insane!” I protested. “Who’s going to agree to marry me in twenty-two hours?”
“I would.” The strong, clear statement behind me was free of stammering and reverberated in the room like a song sent from heaven.
I whirled around.
Penny.
CHAPTER6
Penny
