Page 50 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
Logan exhaled slowly, leaning back in the chair. "I only studied law for two years before switching to architecture andengineering. But I can tell you this much." He tapped the top document. "You need legal help. Real legal help. These developers are playing hardball, Jack. This isn't some standard foreclosure notice. They're accelerating the timeline, putting pressure on the bank to expedite its actions. And the language in here..." He shook his head. "It's designed to back you into a corner. It reminds me of…" he pulled back, but they both knew he was referring to Jack’s architecture business.
Jack's stomach sank. "We can't afford a lawyer. Not with everything else."
"I might have someone who can help." Logan's voice was careful. "And I could probably get them to do it for free."
Jack's back went rigid. "No. Absolutely not."
"Jack—"
"I'm not taking any more handouts." Jack's voice came out sharper than he intended. "I've already taken enough from you. I'm not dragging someone else into this mess and asking them to work for nothing."
Logan's expression hardened. "My help is not a handout, Jack. And you know it."
"The investment, I know. We have the partnership agreement." Jack waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not talking about that. I'm referring to you working here almost for free. And now you want to bring in someone else to do the same?"
"This is different." Logan insisted. “It’s not something you should be navigating without legal advice.”
Again, his tone hinted at Jack’s failed business and how he’d hired an attorney too late and then had to drop the man because he could only afford four consultations.
"No, I’m sorry, Logan,” Jack said. “We have to figure this out on our own. There are these legal AI sites now that can help.”
“That’s the most insane thing I’ve heard you say. Trusting an AI to your legal troubles.” Logan watched Jack with narrowed eyes before shaking his head. "You're being stubborn."
"I'm being practical." Jack rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the scratch of morning stubble against his palms. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I do. But I can't keep taking from people. It's not right."
"Even if it saves the inn?" Logan’s brows rose.
The question hung in the air between them. Jack stared at his friend, at the determination in Logan's eyes, and felt something crack in his chest.
"I don't know," Jack admitted quietly.
Logan's expression softened. "What happened this morning? On your run with Holly?"
Jack blinked at the subject change. "What?"
"You look different. Less..." Logan gestured vaguely. "Defeated when you came in from your run. You were even humming. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you hum."
Jack felt heat creep up his neck. "We just talked."
"About?"
"Everything." Jack looked down at his hands. "I told her about the inn. About us struggling. About my business, what happened with Pamela and Victor." He paused. "She offered to help us as well."
Logan's eyebrows rose a bit higher. "Help how?"
"With the antiques. The furniture, the paintings. She owns a restoration shop in Miami." Jack looked up, meeting Logan's eyes. "Turns out it's the same shop my mother's been sending pieces to for years. Holly's Antiques and Restorations."
Logan went very still. Then he leaned forward, his expression shifting to something between surprise and amazement. "That's quite the coincidence." He paused, and a slight smile tugged at his mouth. "Or like your mom would say: There are no coincidences. Only the appointments we forgot we made with destiny."
Despite everything, Jack laughed. The sound felt rusty, unfamiliar, but genuine. "That does sound exactly like something she'd say."
"Your mother has a point sometimes." Logan's smile faded, replaced by something more serious. "Can I take the document to the attorney I know?"
Jack tensed. "Logan?—"
"I promise not to let Julie or Jane see it." Logan's voice was firm. "But I need to take it to the attorney I have in mind. We need to move on this, Jack. The timeline is tighter than we thought."
Jack stared at the papers spread across his desk. Every instinct screamed at him to say no, to keep this contained, to handleit himself. But Logan was right. The timeline was accelerating. And Jack had no idea what to do about it.
