Page 84 of Won't Back Down
Sawyer moved closer to me.
“It’s an exciting thing, seeing so many people on the island. Everybody wants their piece of Hatterwick. Lots of opportunity for those smart enough to act.”
Before I could reply to the veiled insult, Sawyer tightened his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, are you implying that because my wife isn’t a money-hungry jackal, willing to sell her soul for a buck, she’s somehow stupid?”
I would’ve laughed, but for the flash of fury that passed over Anthony Strand’s face.
“I wouldn’t dare. Good day to you.” This last came off in a clear tone of fuck you very much as he turned his back on us and made his order.
When he had his sandwich in hand, he left the tent entirely.
“Good riddance,” Sawyer muttered.
“Much as I appreciate your defense, you probably shouldn’t have antagonized him.”
“I didn’t like how he was speaking to you. You’ve told him on multiple occasions that you’re not interested.”
“Yeah. But people like that can’t wrap their brains around the idea that not everyone thinks like they do. That not everyone is motivated by money. Which, I recognize, is a thing I can say because of my personal privilege. But despite what I came from, what I’ve inherited, I know what it is to have nothing. And I’d still make the same choice.”
He brushed a kiss to my temple. “And that’s just one of the many things I love about you.”
We got our sandwiches and found an empty table in the corner to eat. I could still feel the press of people, but at least they weren’t bumping into me. Knowing what was coming for the afternoon, I gave in and took the emergency meds. The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in a panic attack when I was nowhere near any of my supports.
Sawyer checked his watch and balled up his sandwich wrapper. “Probably time to start working our way to the marina.”
By the time we got there, I expected some of this feeling of pressure in my chest to have eased. Hand-in-hand, we made our way down the street, past the Brewhouse and on toward Pamlico Sound.
“Willa!”
At the hail, I braced myself for more peopling. But when I turned, I spotted Roland O’Shea pushing through the crowd.
“Hey, Roland.”
He was puffing a little by the time he reached us. “I tried to call you.”
Every muscle in my body went tense. “I think the cell towers are overwhelmed by all the extra people. Nothing came through. What’s wrong?”
He waved a hand. “No, no. Nothing is wrong. I wanted to share the good news. I heard back from the court.”
Sawyer pulled me close. “And?”
“Your parents’ case has been tossed out by the judge.”
I stared at him. “Tossed out? So it’s… over?”
Roland beamed. “It is. The estate and everything that goes with it is yours. Or will be, as soon as the probate process is finished in another couple of months. Congratulations, Willa.”
“I don’t— This is really, real?”
“Really, really,” he assured me.
I turned to Sawyer, looking up at him in giddy relief. “It’s over.”
He grinned at me. “We won. You won.”
I turned back to the attorney. “I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work with all of this. Protecting my inheritance. Protecting me.”
“Of course. It was my pleasure.” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “Don’t let me keep you. I know you’ve got places to be for Founders’ Day duties. I’ll be seeing you later at the parade.”