“Thank you for finally meeting with me.” Her words are polite, but her tone is strained, like she’s forcing herself to be civil. It’s a good thing I’m here with Georgia, because if this woman says anything to hurt my sister, I’ll have no problem throat punching her.
“And who is this?” She juts her chin toward me.
“I’m Lexi,” I tell her. “Georgia’s sister.”
“You look to be the same age,” Hilda says. “Impossible.”
“Not biologically,” Georgia says softly, clearly intimidated by this bitch.
“But we might as well be,” I add.
The waitress comes over and we order drinks. Once she walks away, Hilda cuts straight to the chase. “I’ve asked you here today because you’re about to graduate. Your father, Justin Reynolds, left in his will that until you’re twenty-two or graduate college, I was to oversee the company he left behind.”
When Georgia squints in confusion, Hilda says, “Of course your mother didn’t tell you.” The way she spits out the word mother has my hackles rising. She doesn’t know shit about our mother.
“If she didn’t, it was with good reason,” I tell her. “Please get to the point of this meeting.” I’ve had about enough of this uptight stuck-up woman.
“My point is”—she keeps her eyes on Georgia—“he left you a multimillion-dollar empire, and now that you’ve graduated, I would like for you to sign it over to me.” She pulls out a folder from her purse and opens it up like she didn’t just drop a huge bombshell.
Georgia gasps, and I glare. “Why would he do that?” she asks as the waitress sets our drinks down. One whiff of my caramel macchiato and I almost upchuck right here at the table. Discreetly, I push it away, so I don’t have to smell it. Georgia eyes me curiously but doesn’t question it.
The waitress takes our orders and I go with a parfait, hoping it will be easy on my stomach. Hilda orders one as well, and Georgia orders pancakes.
“Contrary to what your mother has probably told you,” Hilda says, once the waiter has stepped away, “your father was a good man who loved you.”
Georgia flinches. “She didn’t tell me anything…and I barely even remember him.” She quickly averts her gaze, and I immediately wonder what’s going through her head.
Hilda huffs. “That’s because your mother killed him when you were little.” This time we both gasp. “Of course she didn’t tell you any of this. I’m surprised she even let you meet with me.”
When Georgia stays quiet, Hilda laughs evilly. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Whatever she knows or doesn’t know isn’t your concern,” I say. “So, her bio dad left her a company…and you want it…She’s not going to just sign it over to you.”
“I don’t think—” Georgia begins, but I cut her off.
“You said it’s worth millions. I’m not completely sure how it all works, but if she owns a company and you want it, I think you would have to buy it.”
Hilda shoots daggers at me. “My husband and I have been running it for years.”
“My grandfather?” Georgia asks. “I thought he was dead.”
“He is. Thomas Faulding is my husband and the COO of Reynolds Oil. He’s been running the company since your father was killed.”
There she goes with that shit again… “You need to stop saying that,” I warn. “Our mother wouldn’t kill anyone. Now, if you want the company, you’ll have to buy it from Georgia.”
“Listen here, little girl,” Hilda says, finally losing the little bit of restraint she had. “This is my damn company. Justin wrote that will before he knew Charlotte was a lying, cheating whore.”
“We’re done here.” I stand, taking Georgia by the arm. “Georgia’s attorney will be in contact.” I pull her out of the bistro, all the way to my jeep, not stopping until we’re inside.
“We have to tell Mom about her. That woman is fucking crazy.”
“I can’t.” Georgia shakes her head. “It would break her heart that I went behind her back.”
“She’ll understand.” Our mother is the most understanding person I know.
“Okay. Will you go with me?”
“Of course.”
“You did what?” Mom gasps, glancing from us to our dad. “Why would you meet with her?” Mom’s bottom lips wobbles and tears prick her eyes. Dad envelops her in a side hug to comfort her.
“I thought I could go there, find out what she wanted, and you would never know,” Georgia says. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh no,” Mom tells her, “you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wish you had told me so I could’ve gone with you.”
“Did you know my…” Georgia’s words falter, unsure what to call the man who is her biological dad. “Umm… my… I don’t know what to call him,” Georgia finally says.
Dad moves from Mom to Georgia. “You can call him whatever you’re comfortable with,” he says. “Your dad, your father, Justin…I won’t take offense.”