Chapter 5 - THE SECOND GARDEN
“Freeze the account,” Megan said. “Before your aunt spends another dollar.”
Adrian looked at the transaction history.
“I can suspend transfers through my company. But the Raven Court reserve has separate account authority.”
“Then call the bank.”
“I already have.”
“Call them again.”
He looked at her.
For the first time since they'd met, Megan wasn't frightened of his reputation.
She was frightened of what would happen if she allowed powerful people to make one more decision without her.
Adrian made the call.
Megan stood beside him and listened.
The bank required verification of the disputed transfers before imposing a permanent restriction.
An emergency review could begin immediately.
But the money already withdrawn couldn't simply be recovered with a phone call.
When Adrian hung up, Megan folded her arms.
“How much is supposed to be in that account?”
“The independent accountant is still reviewing it.”
“How much, Adrian?”
He turned the screen toward her.
The most recent stewardship report listed $1.8 million in designated reserves.
The current available balance was less than $90,000.
Megan stared.
“Where did it go?”
“That's what we're going to establish.”
“Eighteen families could lose their homes because somebody emptied an account my mother created.”
Adrian didn't correct her.
Megan pressed her fingertips against her forehead.
She'd spent years worrying about grocery bills while her mother's name was attached to a fund worth more than she'd ever imagined.
But the money wasn't simply hers to spend.
It belonged to a promise.
A promise someone had been quietly dismantling.
By afternoon, Megan had returned to the mansion.
Not as Rick's guest.
Not as Eleanor's prospective signature.
She came because she wanted answers.
Adrian led her into the family library, where Eleanor sat reviewing financial statements.
When she saw Megan, she closed her folder.
“I expected you to come back.”
Megan placed the transaction record on the table.
“Why did you use the stewardship reserve to pay Rick?”
Eleanor glanced at the page.
“That account has been covering emergency obligations for years.”
“Rick wasn't an emergency obligation.”
“No. He was a mistake.”
“A mistake you authorized.”
Eleanor's composure slipped.
“I needed you here before Friday. The bank won't extend our credit agreement without a completed sale.”
“Why Friday?”
“Because the Valenti shipping company has a loan coming due. If the refinancing fails, eighty-six employees could lose their jobs, and their pension contributions will be at risk.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You told me the shipping company was stable.”
“I told you we were making payroll.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No,” Eleanor said. “It isn't.”
She opened a drawer and produced a folder filled with aging equipment invoices.
A dock crane needed replacement.
Insurance costs had doubled.
Two long-term shipping customers had moved their contracts elsewhere.
For three years, Eleanor had borrowed against family holdings to keep the business operating.
Raven Court was the last valuable asset she believed she could sell quickly.
“Your grandmother created those cottages when the harbor was thriving,” Eleanor said. “The world changed. Good intentions don't pay wages.”
Megan looked at the accounts.
She understood desperation.
She understood bills arriving faster than money.
But she also remembered June Calder standing in slippers, holding an eviction notice.
“You're asking eighteen families to pay for decisions they never made.”
Eleanor looked tired.
“I'm trying to prevent eighty-six other families from suffering.”
“By stealing from one group to protect another?”
Eleanor had no immediate answer.
Megan placed the old blue festival ticket beside the folder.
“My mother wrote something on this.”
Eleanor glanced at it.
For an instant, fear crossed her face.
Then it disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
“From her coat.”
“You should give it to Adrian.”
“Why?”
“Because some things from those years are better handled by the family.”
Megan picked up the ticket.
“My mother was family to somebody too.”
She left the library before Eleanor could respond.
Moren was waiting in the corridor.
“I heard raised voices.”
Megan studied her.
“Did you know Eleanor was taking money from Raven Court?”
Moren nodded slowly.
“I knew some of the reserve was being used for business expenses. I believed the transfers were temporary.”
“You signed the payment to Rick.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Moren struggled to find the words.
“Eleanor told me the meeting couldn't happen unless he agreed to bring you. I signed because I was told it would protect the tenants if we resolved the agreement.”
“You could have called me yourself.”
“I should have.”
“Did you know Rick was going to offer me to Adrian?”
“No. When I heard him discussing you that way, I warned Adrian before dinner.”
Megan remembered the Mafia Boss quietly asking Rick whether she'd consented.
He'd already known something was wrong.
Moren's warning had helped.
But it didn't erase her signature.
“You helped put me in danger,” Megan said.
Tears shone in Moren's eyes.
“I know.”
“Then help me get the truth instead of asking me to forgive you.”
Moren nodded.
“What do you need?”
“The second garden.”
The older woman went very still.
Megan showed her the ticket.
Moren read Rose's handwriting.
Then she looked toward the windows.
“Helena called the old conservatory her second garden. She kept records there because she trusted flowers more than filing cabinets.”
“Records of what?”
“Everything she and your mother built together.”
The conservatory stood beyond the mansion's rear terrace.
Adrian accompanied them.
Sunlight filtered through cloudy glass.
Long wooden tables held empty clay pots.
Old climbing roses stretched across metal supports.
Moren led them to a narrow cabinet behind a potting bench.
A faded brass plate read:
GREENHOUSE TWO.
Megan's heart beat faster.
She took the small key from her mother's coat.
It fitted the cabinet lock.
Inside were garden journals, seed packets, and a shallow wooden box tied with a red ribbon.
Megan recognized the ribbon.
Her mother used to save scraps of fabric for Christmas wreaths.
She opened the box carefully.
Inside lay a pressed white rose.
Beneath it was a photograph of Helena Valenti and Rose Walsh standing together on the day Raven Court opened.
On the back, Helena had written:
For Rose, who reminded me that a home means nothing if its doors are closed to people who need one.
Megan swallowed hard.
Adrian stood beside her.
“My grandmother used to talk about Rose,” he said. “She said Rose understood loyalty better than most people born into our family.”
“Then why did nobody tell me?”
“I don't know.”
Moren lowered her head.
“After Helena died, Eleanor controlled the records. Rose was fighting to keep the gardens open. She didn't want Megan drawn into the dispute while she was still a girl.”
Megan continued searching.
Beneath the photograph lay an inventory card.
GARDEN RECORDS.
ORIGINAL TRUST REGISTER — RAVEN COURT GREENHOUSE.
DUPLICATE CORRESPONDENCE — GREENHOUSE TWO.
The card carried Rose's unmistakable handwriting.
At the bottom, she'd written:
Homes first. Jobs too. Neither should be sacrificed for the other.
Adrian stared at those words.
“My grandmother believed the same thing.”
Megan looked at the empty space where the duplicate correspondence should have been.
“Where are the letters?”
Moren shook her head.
“I haven't opened this cabinet in years.”
Adrian examined the inventory.
“The original trust register may still be at Raven Court.”
Megan remembered June's warning about the greenhouse demolition marks.
“Then we need to get there.”
Before they reached the door, Adrian's security chief, Marco Serrano, entered carrying a printed work order.
“Mr. Valenti, you need to see this.”
Adrian read it.
His expression hardened.
“Who approved this?”
“Mrs. Eleanor Valenti.”
The order authorized emergency demolition of the old Raven Court greenhouse.
Megan grabbed the page.
Scheduled start: 6:00 a.m.
The following morning.
And beneath the demolition instructions was a warning:
ADJACENT OCCUPIED COTTAGES — UTILITY DISCONNECTION REQUIRED.
Megan looked at the clock.
It was already after midnight.
Adrian reached for his phone.
Then Marco's radio crackled.
“Sir, the contractor's trucks have arrived early.”
Megan looked toward the dark gardens.
The original register was still inside that greenhouse.
So were decades of records her mother had protected.
And only yards away, eighteen families were asleep.
May you like
Marco spoke again.
“They're bringing an excavator through the gate now.”
