“I have the deed. My husband inherited it from his grandfather, and then he gave it to me. I’m not making it up. The inn is really mine.”Andrew sat across the table from her, leaning back in his chair. They’d just eaten breakfast on the kitchen patio, delaying the discussion for as long as they could.They had to figure out what to do about the inn. They couldn’t put it off forever.“I do trust you,” Andrew said, reaching over and covering one of her hands with his big, warm one. “And I know you’re not making this up, but that doesn’t solve our problem. You’ve acted in good faith in everything you’ve done, but my uncle has well-documented evidence that your husband’s grandfather didn’t legally own the inn at the time of his death so your husband should never have inherited it.”Andrew’s face was utterly serious, not a trace of irony or humor. That alone made Laurel’s blood run cold, since it proved how firmly he believed his uncle’s claim was valid.
