The rose garden replaced by a pool.
The eastern woods cleared for villas.
The boathouse expanded into a marina.
“They planned this before the transfer.”
“Yes.”
“They were going to destroy everything.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Phoebe.
“When does the covenant trigger?”
“It already has.”
My heart thudded.
“How much?”
She slid a sheet across the desk.
I read the number twice.
Then a third time.
“Eleven million?”
“That is the estimated exposure before remediation.”
“Before?”
“If they proceed with development, it could exceed twenty-three.”
I sat back.
Flynn’s struggling resort company could not absorb that.
Neither could Cordelia.
But Phoebe wasn’t smiling.
“Why do you look worried?”
“Because this was never only about Bellweather.”
I stared at her.
She opened her drawer.
Pulled out another envelope.
My grandfather’s handwriting.
FOR SLOAN — UPON FLYNN VALE’S VOLUNTARY ACCEPTANCE OF BELLWEATHER ESTATE.
My throat tightened.
“The condition occurred,” Phoebe said.
