Page 60 of When Summer Returns

Abernathy removed his wire-rimmed glasses, polishing them methodically. “Your father made these arrangements approximately six months before his passing. He was quite specific about the timing and conditions.”

“But why leave me half the bar at all? We hadn’t spoken in fifteen years.” The question that had burned in her since learning of her inheritance finally voiced aloud.

Abernathy hesitated, then reached into his portfolio and extracted a sealed envelope. “He anticipated your question. This was to be delivered along with the formal documentation.”

The envelope felt impossibly heavy in her hands. Her name written in her father’s distinctive slanted script—the same handwriting that had signed her school permission slips and, later, left threatening notes when she disobeyed his rules.

“I’ll give you privacy,” Abernathy said, rising with practiced discretion.

When she was alone, Jessie opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

Jessie,

If you’re reading this, I’m gone, and you’ve returned to claim what’s yours. I expect you’re wondering why I’ve left you half of Seeker’s Paradise after everything. The truth is simple and complicated all at once.

I watched what Luke Mallory built with that place. Watched him pour his heart and soul into making something that matters to this island. Something I couldn’t destroy no matter how hard I tried.

I’ve had a lot of time these past years to think about all I broke that couldn’t be fixed. Your mother. You. Myself. The drinking didn’t help with the thinking, but the cancer forced sobriety on me at the end.

I don’t expect forgiveness. Don’t even want it. Some things go beyond forgiving. But I know you, girl. Always have. You’ve got the island in your blood whether you want it or not. And I know something else—you were always strongest when you stood beside Luke Mallory.

Consider this my last manipulation if you want. Or consider it the one decent thing I managed. Either way, the choice of what to do with it is yours now. Something I should have given you a long time ago.

—Jesse

Jessie read the letter twice, then a third time, searching for hidden cruelty or manipulation beneath the surprising clarity. It offered no explicit apology, yet contained something that felt dangerously close to regret. A recognition, however belated, of all he had destroyed.

Her father had known—perhaps before she did—that the island would always call her back. That Luke would always be the magnetic north to her internal compass. His final act had been to create a situation that would force her to confront both truths.

When Abernathy returned, she carefully folded the letter and placed it in her pocket.

“He knew I’d come back,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “He was forcing a confrontation he wouldn’t be around to witness.”

“Your father was…complex,” Abernathy offered diplomatically. “But in his final months, he seemed determined to put certain affairs in order. This partnership arrangement was particularly important to him.”

“Did he know about Luke and me? From before?”

“He never spoke of it directly. But there was a certain…understanding in his instructions.”

Jessie nodded, pieces falling into place. “What are the provisions you mentioned? The time-sensitive ones?”

Abernathy turned to the formal documents spread between them. “That’s where things get interesting. Your father stipulated that for the first year following his death, neither owner can sell their share of the business to anyone except the other partner. After that, you’d be free to sell to outside interests. The stipulation expires in exactly thirty days.”

Jessie’s breath caught as understanding dawned. “So I have one month to decide whether to sell my share to Luke or commit to the partnership for at least a year.”

“Precisely.” Abernathy adjusted his glasses. “And there’s one more condition. The selling price between partners during this initial window is set at significantly below market value—essentially what your father paid when they first established the business.”

“He was giving Luke a chance to buy me out cheaply.” The realization settled like a stone. “Or…”

“Or giving you both an incentive to work together, at least for a time,” Abernathy finished for her. “As I said, your father was…complex in his motivations.”

Jessie looked down at the documents, seeing beyond the legal language to the emotional chessboard her father had constructed. Even from the grave, he was maneuvering them into position. Yet beneath the manipulation lay something that almost resembled hope—a tarnished, twisted version, perhaps, but hope nonetheless. That she might find what she needed where she’d left it behind.

“I’ll need time to consider all this,” she said finally.

“Of course.” Abernathy began gathering the documents. “But not too much time. The thirty-day window is quite firm.”

As Jessie prepared to leave, she felt the weight of her father’s letter in her pocket. His final communication was neither absolution nor further cruelty, but something messier and more human—a flawed man’s acknowledgment of a truth he’d spent years denying: that some connections couldn’t be severed, no matter how hard he’d tried.

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