Page 91 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

I dress quickly, grabbing my keys and heading out. Brennen’s still nowhere to be found. I asked him to come with me to the bank, told him we needed to present a united front, but Brennen flat-out refused. Stubborn idiot. At least Emma agreed to meet me there.

Vineyard first. Candace second. My butthead brother third.

The bank is a solid, gray stone building in the center of Pelican Point, the kind of place that hasn’t changed since my childhood. Its imposing, traditional façade matches the equally traditional mindset of the people who run it.

Emma’s already waiting inside when I walk through the heavy glass doors. She’s perched on one of the stiff chairs in the lobby, her polished demeanor screaming lawyer even if her casual clothes don’t. She looks up as I approach, giving me a small nod.

“Ready?” she asks, standing and smoothing her skirt. “You and Brennen?”

“That’s going to take a bit more work.”

“Ryan…”

I kiss her forehead. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Let’s get this done,” I say, keeping my voice low.

We’re ushered into the bank manager’s office a few minutes later. Mr. Davis—a thin, balding man with wire-rimmed glasses—rises to greet us, his handshake firm but impersonal.

“What can I do for you today?” he asks, motioning for us to sit.

I don’t bother with small talk. “I’m here to pay off the note on the Celtic Knot Vineyard.”

His eyes widen slightly, and I see a flicker of surprise before he schools his features into neutrality. “That’s… highly unusual,” he says, his tone cautious.

“Unusual isn’t a problem,” I say, leaning forward slightly. “The funds are ready. I want the note paid in full, today.”

Mr. Davis adjusts his glasses, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, Mr. Murphy, it’s not quite that simple. For a note of this size, the process requires approval from our board. Additionally, the funds will need to clear, and the note holder will have to be notified of the intent to pay it off.”

“How long are we talking?” Emma asks, her voice sharp.

“It could take a few days. Possibly a week,” he replies, looking between us.

“That’s unacceptable,” I say, my tone hardening. “We’re not asking for permission. We’re paying what’s owed. The rest is your job.”

Mr. Davis shifts in his seat, clearly not enjoying this conversation. “I understand your frustration, Mr. Murphy, but this is standard procedure for large transactions. I’ll do my best to expedite the process.”

Emma opens her mouth to argue, but before she can, the door to the office swings open.

Candace strides in like she owns the place, her heels clicking against the marble floor with precision. She’s wearing a sleek black dress today, the kind of outfit that screams power and control. Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I see the flash of anger she’s trying to conceal.

“What’s going on here?” she asks, her voice sharp but composed.

“Ms. Prescott,” Mr. Davis says nervously, standing. “We were just discussing the note on the Celtic Knot Vineyard.”

Her gaze snaps to him, then back to me. “I see. And I assume you’re here to try and pay it off?”

I lean back in my chair, studying her. “That’s exactly what I’m here to do, and there’s no trying about it.”

Her jaw tightens, just slightly, and I know that I’ve scored a hit. She recovers quickly, though, folding her arms and giving me a faint, mocking smile.

“Well, Ryan, it’s nice to see you finally taking an interest in your family’s legacy. Took you long enough.”

“And here I thought you’d be thrilled,” I reply, matching her tone. “After all, this means you won’t have to waste your time trying to turn our vineyard into a resort. You can move on to something more… achievable.”

Her smile falters, just for a second, but I catch it. She’s rattled, even if she doesn’t want to show it.

“The process isn’t as simple as you think,” she says coolly, turning to Mr. Davis. “I assume you’ve informed him of the necessary steps?”

“Of course, Ms. Prescott,” he says, nodding quickly.

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