Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF A PIECE OF SHORELINE
I sat in Teresa's conference room while she explained the lawsuit.
Weller Development was asking a court to enforce an alleged purchase agreement. No judge had decided anything. But the filing could scare off other buyers and tie up the property for months.
“I am not selling,” I said.
“And we will make that clear,” Teresa replied.
Ryan slid a printed sheet across the table. It was a spreadsheet he had discovered in an email attachment Paige once sent him by mistake. The sheet listed wedding expenses, a projected resort investment, and a line labeled MARISSA SIGNATURE - CRITICAL PATH.
The next line read: CONTINGENCY - MEDICAL EVENT / FAMILY CONSENT.
My stomach turned.
Ryan's voice cracked. “I told Paige how much you loved the dock. She said she wanted to preserve it for our kids.”
“Did you know her father wanted to buy it?”
“I knew he was interested. She told me there'd only be a conversation after the honeymoon.”
He looked at me. “I should've told you that much.”
I didn't rescue him from the silence.
“Do you know what hurt most?” I asked. “Not moving me to the back table. Not asking me to hide my brace. It was that you saw those things and told me Paige was just trying to have a perfect day.”
Ryan pressed his palms together. “I told you to be the bigger person.”
“Yes. And every time I did, she asked me to get smaller.”
Teresa let the words settle before calling us back to the documents. The land mattered. But so did what we had allowed to happen long before anybody mentioned a sale.
Teresa asked him to forward the entire file, including the original email. Then she instructed both of us not to argue about the case on social media.
Outside the office, a reporter approached Ryan with a microphone and asked whether his mother had sabotaged the wedding for money.
Ryan turned toward the camera. “My mother was hurt. We have asked for the evidence to be preserved. That's all I'm saying today.”
The reporter tried again. Ryan walked away.
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That night Brooke called from a blocked number.
“I have the recording,” she whispered. “But Paige knows I copied it.”
