“This last part is a bit complicated,” he cautioned, then stared back down at the paper and continued.
“And finally, the historical bed and breakfast, known as Paradise West, located at 815 Thomas Street, I leave jointly to Charlotte Harris and John Sullivan, as an equal partnership for both parties.”
Charli’s mouth dropped and her gaze shot to Jack again, who’s face mirrored the same shock. “They are both charged with renovating the property, restoring it to its original condition as described in the 1925 property assessment provided and chronicled in the historical photographs contained within the file. They will undertake this project together and have two years to complete the renovation. If either party refuses to participate, the property in its entirety will go to the city of Key West.”
Charli released a rough breath and sat back in her seat, not sure she had heard Art correctly. Her mind was spinning at the details.
So that’s why Art believes I’ll be staying on the island.
Art continued. “Detailed instructions will be provided to both parties for this project and it is my wish that each condition be strictly followed.”
Charli zoned out as Art read the remaining paragraph, her mind circling. Aunt Dottie wanted them to restore the property together.
What could Aunt Dottie have possibly been thinking? She knew my life is in Boston, and with my career there is no way I can commit two years to this.
Charli glanced again at Jack and found him staring at her with an uneasy expression in his eyes, his browcrinkled. She swallowed a lump in her throat and dropped her gaze.
Art stood from the table. “Dottie left personal letters for each of you.” He handed out the sealed envelopes around the table. “Are there any questions?” Art asked the room.
A plethora of questions swirled in her brain, but the last thing Charli wanted to do was verbalize them in front of this group. She cleared her throat and looked at Art. “I’d like to read this letter in private. Can I contact you later with any questions?”
Art’s expression softened. “Of course. Theresa and I are at your service.” He motioned to Jack. “Maybe we should schedule a meeting together with both you and Jack sometime in the next couple days to discuss this joint project?”
“Sure,” Jack responded as he stood from the table. “Just let me know when.” He walked slowly from the room staring straight ahead, his jaw tight and his eyes moist. Art followed him closely.
As Charli stood, Flora and Hazel hustled around the table and each hugged her. “We’re so sorry about Dottie. We know you must be devastated right now and feeling quite numb. It’s been so taxing on all of us,” Flora started, patting Charli’s arm in a comforting gesture. “Since you’re an official member of the Society now, we’ll bring over someinformation about our group and maybe have a little get-together in the next few days. I know Miriam is anxious to meet you. I think you’ll be impressed—we really do have an active social calendar with activities that I think you’ll enjoy,” she asserted, bobbing with enthusiasm.
“We’re so happy you’re here, dear,” Hazel added, patting Charli’s hand. “If you need anything at all, you just call us.” She handed Charli a light pink business card that read ‘Royal Conch Society’ in big gold letters on the front and listed several phone numbers on the back. Hazel ran her finger across the back. “If you call one of us, you call us all. So just pick a number if you need any help, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”
Charli sniffed and cleared her throat. “I’ll remember that.”
Marsha walked around the table and hugged Charli. She stepped back but held Charli’s hand in both of hers. “I’m so sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. I do hope you’ll stop by our gallery soon. Your aunt was one of our biggest benefactors and was so proud of the progress we’ve made in the last decade.”
Charli pressed her trembling lips together. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
Marsha squeezed Charli’s hand lightly. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe we can get you there on a day when most of our artists are in. I know they will all want to meet you.”
The thought of social engagements at that moment made Charli’s chest tighten, but she pasted a smile on her face. “That sounds great.”
Marsha smiled, patted her hand again, and left the room.
Max was next and stepped up with a formal hand shake. “My deepest condolences, Miss Harris. Your aunt was a remarkable woman and it was a monumental loss for our community.”
Charli sniffed again, swallowing around the thick lump in her throat. “Thank you.” She followed Max and the two ladies out the door, feeling an intense need to be alone with a glass of wine despite the hour.
As she walked into the main foyer, Art called to her from his office. “Charli, before you leave can I see you for one more minute?”
She sighed and walked to the office, looking at Art expectantly.
He picked up a medium-sized white box from his desk. “This is one last detail that was not in the will.” He placed the box in her hands. “Dottie asked to be cremated and wanted you to spread her ashes. She said she’d leave the details for you in your letter.”
Charli’s stomach lurched as she stared at the box in her hands, feeling tears that she had held in slide silently down her cheeks. She clenched her jaw and gave Art a firm nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion.
Art gave her a sympathetic look and squeezed her arm. “I know you will.” He gestured to his computer. “Jack can meet tomorrow at 2 PM. Are you available?”
Charli released a rough laugh. “I have nothing else on my calendar. Well,” she paused, “except for figuring out how to restore a run-down bed and breakfast when my career and life are a thousand miles away.”
Art beamed at her response. “Don’t worry about that. I think you and Jack will have it figured out in no time. He’s really the best partner you could have in this.”
