Page 82 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

She starts pacing. “It was the perfect plan. I had the documents forged. Deven Chandler Esquire isn’t a real lawyer. He and I cooked up?—”

“So we’re living here illegally?” I panic because now I really don’t have anywhere for Leonie and me to go.

Maddock’s nostrils flare. “That whole story about how your great-grandfather started this town or whatever was a lie?”

“Nothing she says is true,” I mutter.

Almost to himself, Maddock says, “Then I’m not the bitter heir.”

“You have no claim unless you have a brother who’s actually related to Tickle,” Ambrette says vaguely.

“Meaning Hogan Tickle had a secret son?” I ask, the historian in me curious.

She smirks, but I can’t tell if this is yet more subterfuge and intrigue—a red herring.

Scowling at Ambrette, Maddock says, “You do realize you just confessed a crime and will soon be behind bars.”

Ambrette’s face falls. I’m more concerned about Leonie than her nonsense, but he’s right. I used to be so used to this type of conversation, even in front of Jesse, I nearly forgot that. But there is something more pressing that I need to know.

My voice is tight when I ask, “Does this mean Maddock is Leonie’s father?”

He presses his hand to his chest as if soothing an ache he hardly let himself acknowledge. “I didn’t think I could have kids.” With a searing look that pins Ambrette in place, Maddock asks, “Is she mine?”

She snorts. “Of course she is. We were married.”

“You weren’t with anyone else?”

“Not that month.” A chuckle escapes that she wasn’t faithful to him.

“Maddock is Leonie’s father?” My breath catches in my throat.

Ambrette laughs. “That’s what you named the baby?”

I scowl. “Answer me.”

“Only if you race me.” I realize why she’s here. Never mind morally bankrupt, she’s run out of treats and tricks. Broke and possibly broken. This is her last-ditch bail-out effort and I’m not going to bite. Back in the day, a race wasn’t just a race, it was a wager—a way to make fast cash.

I say, “You don’t even have a car.”

“You know I was always faster.”

Flames lick my every word when I say, “The only racing I’ll be doing is chasing you out of town.”

Ambrette laughs like I’m joking.

I’d finally buried my old life in the past and had hope for the new one ahead when my cousin had to come back and spook up old ghosts. With Leonie safely inside, I snap—tree limb in a storm style.

One second I’m standing outside, the next I’m behind the wheel of the Porsche and smash through the rotted wooden door of the carriage house—it needed replacing anyway, but who cares? This isn’t even Maddock’s property.

Jesse waves his hands as if to stop me, but his effort is feeble as if to only say he is doing his job—and halfheartedly at that. To my surprise, Molly cheers me on, but probably so she can have more content for the Pest Digest.

Ambrette shrieks as the Porsche’s headlights bear down on her. She runs toward the cemetery. This isn’t an all-terrain vehicle and I stop, chest heaving. My pulse knocks against my bones.

“What got into me?” I ask, eyes burning.

I’m literally chasing Ambrette in my car. This is not who I am. Could be that my personal check engine light is on.

In the rearview mirror, a figure approaches. Maddock can deal with her. This has become all too much. Just as soon as something good happened, it all came crumbling down. Story of my life. I flip around, zoom past Jesse, and down Shady Lane toward Daley’s farm with its wide open golden fields that somehow make the sky seem bigger, but it’s raining. The windshield blurs and not just because of the weather. Tears flow freely and I roar with frustration.

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