Excerpt:

Blythe couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

It wasn’t the steady stream of urbanite male patrons of the busy corner Starbuck’s that kept looking over at her. She was used to attention from men. And it wasn’t the group of university students that crowded around the bar counter at the window, leaning over their Macs like their entire life depended on a free wifi connection. It wasn’t even the harried looking business woman who after complaining very loudly that her ordered drink was not hot enough – what did she want - something that would scald the hide off an elephant? – had turned to add some sugar and in her haste to get the lid on her steaming venti machiatto, swiped it from the counter and on to the floor.

No, none of these things garnered Blythe’s attention. They were like mosquitoes, buzzing around her head which she swatted, noise and people that she blocked out.

But Blythe wished that’s why she was speechless and wished to be anyone else at this very moment than who she was. For what she was holding was an unbelievable document on the expensive letter head (Blythe knew it was expensive because she had the same kind for her personal stationery) of the law firm, Benson and Benson.

The contents of the document, although in legalese, were quite clear. Blythe understood them. But she did not believe them.

She snatched her iphone out of her purse and slid her finger on the touch screen to unlock the phone. She tapped her phone icon, searched her contact list and found the one she wanted. Her lawyer was the one who needed to see this. She needed to know what kind of rights she had here. She must have some say in what was being demanded of her, didn’t she?

Twenty minutes later found Blythe Stonehouse pressing the eighth floor button in the elevator. Clients like her didn’t need to book appointments weeks in advance. Her urgent sounding voice, coupled with the large retainer she maintained with the firm guaranteed no arguments from a protective secretary. She was an important client and everyone employed there knew it.

She nodded at the receptionist who smiled in greeting and immediately picked up the phone to alert Albert Godfrey that his client was on the way to his office. Blythe didn’t even sit in the leather club chairs provided for the clients in a living room like waiting area. She didn’t do waiting.

Blythe had the manners enough to knock as she entered through the double walnut doors, swooped across the plush carpeting and perched in a chair opposite the white bearded man who smiled at her typical entrance.

“Hello Blythe. How have you been?” His voice was gentle and warm, but words spoken from Albert Godfrey’s mouth rang with a firmness and confidence rarely argued with. He was a highly respected lawyer, and held memberships in bar associations in other provinces, other than just British Columbia.

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, thrusting the paper she held across his desk. “You tell me.”

Albert took the paper, sat back and lowered his reading glasses to his nose from their precarious perch on his wide crown.

He read rapidly, grunting now and then, a mannerism he’d adopted in law school. When he finished, he laid the paper down and pushed the reading glasses off his face. He spread his hands wide. “It’s completely up to you. Everything is perfectly legal – they are not beyond the law in anything they are asking. Whether or not you can complete the requirements will be entirely up to you and in this way, I have to admit, they have been very clever.”

“But can he do that?” Blythe whined.

“He did do that. A person’s last will and testament is a very powerful document. Whatever it says goes. You do not have to do what it requires of you. However, if you want his estate, you must follow it to the letter.”

Blythe slumped back in her chair and ran her manicured fingers through her blonde wavy tresses. This was crazy. There was no way she was going to do it. She had the choice. And her choice would make a statement. How typical that her estranged brother, ten years her senior, was still trying to tell her how to live her life, even now that he had died.

She stood up and snatched the paper back from Albert’s desk, stuffing it into her purse like a used Kleenex. Without a word she stalked from the office, Albert’s firm voice advising her to call him when she decided what she was going to do.

***************************

Blythe entered the bustling eatery, looking for her boyfriend, Gino. He wasn’t hard to spot. Sitting at the bar, scotch in hand, he entertained two ladies, one on either side of him. They had stars in their eyes and Blythe knew he was regaling them with his ridiculous real estate stories. She came up from behind him, stood with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Both ladies, cheaply dressed and completely out of his tax bracket, noticed her at the same time and their wide eyes alerted him to turn around.

He spun around and showed no remorse. “Ah, ladies, this is the love of my life I was just telling you about. Blythe, meet….” He turned and looked at one and then the other. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your names.” He smiled, shrugged and took his drink from the bar. He held an arm out to Blythe.

She snorted and walked ahead of him, following the hostess as she escorted them to Blythe’s preferred table. It was by the window, overlooking the harbor and the lights of the yachts moored there.

“So what’s the big emergency?” Gino took a swig of his scotch as he sat down. “Your page interrupted a very important meeting I was having with a client.”

“What’s her name?” Blythe asked dryly, not even raising her eyes from the menu.

Gino set his glass down hard. “Don’t give me that. I was closing a sale.” He changed the subject. “So tell me. What was so urgent?”

“My brother passed away.”

“Oh.” Gino sat back. “Never knew you had a brother.”

‘Why would you? Nobody knows.” Blythe said without emotion. “I haven’t talked to him in five years. Didn’t even know where he was until today.” She leaned down and took the crumpled paper from her purse and tossed it across the table at him. “Read it for yourself.”

Gino skimmed through it faster than her lawyer had and looked up at her when he finished. He raised his eyebrows. “Funny guy.” He passed the paper back to her. “Bella where?”

“Bella Coola.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“And where is that?”

“About a thousand kilometers north west of here.” She made a face. “A thousand Gino. I had to Google it. Get this, it was described as an isolated wilderness community. Great. My two favorite things - isolation and wilderness.”

Gino sat back. “You’re actually considering this?”

She put her head on one side. “You did read what his estate is worth?”

“Yep.”

“And his paintings he’s supposedly done, you saw how much they’re worth?”

“Yep.”

“And all I have to do is go up there and show my face. I’ve always been good at making appearances.” She tossed her head and her glistening hair fell down her back. “I manage blue chip company advertising campaigns for living. I’m sure I can find the right people to run a hotel for me while I kick back and tolerate the time I have to be there. I’ll just sell it. Who cares. I get the paintings, his estate and I’m back before you can take up with too many other women.”

Gino just shook his head.

“You wouldn’t go for it if you were me?”

“I would do it because I’m not you princess.” Gino tapped the paper. “Read the fine print. You have to be there for at least six months, running his hotel. You can’t just sell it and you can’t just hire people to do it for you. Nothing’s free nowadays. Even for you.” He held up his glass to her and gave her a wink.

She snatched the paper up and scanned it again – this time a little more carefully.

“Oh fabulous – how’d I miss that essential piece of information?” She groaned and put the paper down. “Six months? I always knew he hated me.”

“Well now that you’ve brought it up – what was the deal with the two of you?” Gino leaned forward, eager to find out something new about Blythe.

“Hey, G – there’s a reason I never told you about my brother.” She looked at him like he was brain dead. “I’m not going to tell you about it now, just because he’s dead.”

Gino put his hands up. “Fine, do whatever. I’m sure you’ll figure it out in that calculating mind of yours.”

Blythe took that as a compliment – how else were you supposed to get by in this world?

She suddenly pushed her chair back and threw her napkin on the table. “You know what Gino? I don’t have much of an appetite. I need to go.”

Gino shrugged. He knew Blythe well. She had cutthroat ambition and the mental toughness that could kick a Marine’s butt. She wasn’t going to let this challenge beat her.

Gino smiled and took out some money for his drink. He suddenly didn’t feel like eating either. He stood and headed purposefully towards the bar scanning the room for his earlier companions. There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the rest of his evening even if his girlfriend couldn’t.