“I just thought I could be of more help if I wasn’t having to entertain a date. There’s so much to manage, after all.” A blatant lie, but it effectively turned the tide of pity.
“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” Jolene declared. “Since you’re…unencumbered, can I get you to—”
As Jolene took advantage of Piper’s slip up to pile on additional wedding duties, all Piper could do was grin and bear it.
Three more days. Three more days and this insanity is over.
Chapter 2
“I’ve been over the contracts with a fine-toothed comb.” Tucker McGee, attorney and sometimes community theater actor, sat back in his chair, an expression of regret on his face. “You’re up shit creek, man.”
Myles dropped his face into his hands. “I was afraid of that.”
In the wake of Mr. Bondurant’s departure, he’d flat out lied to his staff that everything was fine, then closeted himself in his office, working his ass off until day’s end, and waiting until they’d all left to pull out the original contract to pore over it himself into the wee hours. He’d spent the last two days searching, in vain, for some other answer. Finding none, he’d brought them to his buddy to look over, hoping for some kind of miracle. No such luck.
“If you’d been my client when this whole deal went down, I’d never have let you sign this. Did you even read the whole thing?”
Myles bristled. “Yeah, I read it. But the possibility seemed so remote, it felt like it was worth the risk.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t get a traditional bank loan large enough to fully buy out the paper. And the investor seemed perfectly happy to let me do my thing for the first year, once I explained my business plan. I never dreamed he’d want to pull out before the year was even up.”
“That’s the shitty thing about the law. It doesn’t leave room for assumptions.”
“But it makes no sense. He knows I can’t buy him out. He’s seen the quarterly reports. If he takes the paper in exchange, he’s left with something he’s already seeing as a poor investment.”
“Which he could then turn around and sell,” Tucker pointed out.
“Good luck with that. Do you know how long the paper sat on the market before I came along? Newspapers around the country are folding left and right. There aren’t many people crazy enough to take it on. Probably fewer who could make it work. Selling isn’t likely to make him back what he’s put into it.”
“You could counter with a new offer that gives the investor more oversight into the running of things. Feeling more in control of things might pacify him, if he’s concerned about levels of profit and loss. If he agreed, it might get you a stay of execution.”
Myles shoved up from the chair and began to pace around Tucker’s office. “No. I’m not taking orders from some yahoo who knows nothing about the newspaper business.”
“Well, at this point, you either come up with the money to buy out the investor or forfeit controlling rights to the paper—which could put you in a position of being replaced entirely and having no say in things at all.”
Hello rock. Meet hard place.
How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess?
That was a stupid question. He knew exactly how he’d gotten into this mess.
Veteran Newspaperman Forfeits Paper Due To Risky Investment.
He’d wanted to come home to Mississippi on his own terms, do his own thing, rather than finally joining the family business as had always been expected. He’d been so damned cocky about his odds of success turning The Observer around and dragging it into the twenty-first century, he’d agreed to less than favorable terms. And now if he didn’t figure something out, he and his tiny staff would be paying the price.
The potential answer is staring you in the face, dumbass.
But that would mean taking Tucker fully into his confidence, something he hadn’t done with anybody in Wishful since he’d moved here last September.
Is keeping that secret worth losing the business you’ve been killing yourself to build?
“There may possibly be a third option.” Myles pulled another set of documents from his messenger bag. “Before he died, my grandfather set up a trust in my name. The terms are such that I’ve never had access to it up to this point, but my grandmother is executor. If I can convince her that this is a worthwhile cause, maybe she can override one of his stipulations.”
Tucker took the copy of the trust and began reading through it. Other than a slight lift of brows, he showed no reaction to the contents. Myles made a note to remember that if he ever sat across from Tucker at a poker table.
“Well, that’s one of the more unusual stipulations I’ve ever seen in a trust. Did he ever tell you why he tied this to you being married?”