And he was right.
I needed to be sure, so even when I first discovered the pages that dictated how the company shares should be split in the event of Robert’s death, I did not let my hope and excitement guide me. Instead, I read and re-read and made notes and researched until I was so certain that nothing could be refuted. And I discovered the missing piece to a puzzle my father never solved in his lifetime.
Robert left my father, and our family, fifty percent of the company stock.
Half.
Part-ownership.
Journal, even when I had the proof, I worried about whether or not to bring this information to Patrick Scooter. As you know, we haven’t exactly been best friends throughout the years, which I attribute largely to his father’s affection for me and how much he entrusted to me when it came to the distillery. I would also have to admit to Patrick that not only had I found the Will, but that I had not come to him with it directly, but rather read it on my own without permission.
Nevertheless, I felt I had no other choice.
It was time to set things right.
Oh, I was nervous. My hands are still shaking as I type this, but now, from an exhilarating joy and anticipation rather than an uncertainty. To my utter amazement, Pat not only listened to me and agreed that I was correct in my interpretation of the Will — he insisted that we rectify the situation immediately.
He’s going to name me as partner.
He’s going to backpay my family for the years of income we should have been receiving, immediately include me on business decisions I was only a small voice for before, rewrite the staff organization chart, and for the first time since his father’s death, he seemed open to hearing my ideas for the future of this distillery.
I guess now, he has no choice.
What’s more, he wants me to move into his father’s old office — the one I’ve been cleaning out for months. He insisted it was what his dad would have wanted, for me to follow in his footsteps, to “take my place at the table,” so to speak.
As I write this, I have already gathered most of the belongings in my office to transfer over, and Patrick has asked me to meet him in his father’s office after our four o’clock board meeting to discuss next steps.
Again, I am trembling with excitement and disbelief. I can’t wait to get home to tell Laurelei and the boys.
This is it, Journal.
This is the day my father’s legacy is revived.
This is the day my family’s life changes forever.There was no sign off, just those last nine words dangling at the end of the page, and I read them over and over again, heart pounding out of my chest with the dark truth that my father never could have understood they held.
Our lives had changed forever on that fateful day.
But not in the way they were supposed to.
Black invaded my vision as I stared at the screen, my head foggy, chest so tight I couldn’t squeeze a breath out to save my life.
Half of the company was ours.
Half of the company had been left to my grandfather, to my father, to us.
There was never supposed to be a Will, and yet my father had found it. He’d brought it to Patrick. Patrick knew what was inside it.
And on the day of my father’s death, he’d asked him to meet in the very office where he perished.
Every nerve in my body stood on end, my chest fluttering with the rapid beats of my heart, head pounding with questions and accusations circling like an F5 tornado. More and more questions popped into my head with every new re-read of the entry, and sweat gathered on my forehead, my gut churning, breaths shallow once I finally found them.
All the years we’d searched for answers, and now we had them.
And I knew sleep was the last thing I’d be able to do now.JordanOn the outside, everything was perfect.
It was perhaps the most beautiful November day Stratford, Tennessee, had ever seen. An unusual front of warm weather had swept in overnight, leaving us basked in a cloudless sky of sunshine and a comfortable sixty-seven degrees. It was just warm enough for women to not have to wear a jacket over their dresses, and just cool enough for the men in tuxedos to not sweat.
Perfect.
I stood by Noah’s side at the altar, along with Mikey and Logan, and when the entire congregation turned to watch Ruby Grace float down the aisle in her floor-length, cream-colored lace dress — I watched him. His eyes welled with tears at the sight of her, and he bowed his head, trying to fight them off before he lifted his eyes to her once more and I watched two tears slip in parallel lines down each cheek. His smile was the size of his entire face, though he covered it with one hand, in utter disbelief that the stunning woman walking toward him was about to be his forever.