Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Past
By three in the afternoon, the Aldren had settled into its usual midday hush, but the air inside my second-floor office felt thin and cold.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down into the courtyard. The tables had been cleared; the flagstones had been hosed down. There was no trace of the Lawson family left behind, except for the lingering sting in my ribs that felt like an old scar torn open by blunt force.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened, and Celia walked in carrying a silver tray with a pot of Earl Grey, two cups, and a manila folder thick with documents. Behind her stepped a woman I had seen only twice before in my life, but whose photograph had appeared on the cover of *Savannah Business Monthly* three times this year.
Evelyn Hollis.
She was fifty-five, with silver-streaked hair cut into an immaculate, razor-sharp bob, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that cost more than Derek’s entire wardrobe. She carried herself with the kind of power that didn't need to yell because the entire regional economy moved when she nodded.
“Ms. Hollis,” I said, stepping forward and extending my hand. “I didn't expect you back at the hotel so soon after your event last night.”
Evelyn shook my hand. Her grip was firm, dry, and brief. “Call me Evelyn, Maya. And please, sit down. We have things to discuss that are rather time-sensitive.”
Celia set the tea service on the low table between the armchairs, gave me a reassuring nod, and stepped out, closing the door firmly behind her.
I gestured to the leather chair opposite me. Evelyn sat, smoothing her skirt with an economy of motion.
“I assume,” Evelyn began, her dark eyes pinning me to my seat, “that your brother has not managed to secure sixty thousand dollars from you today.”
I poured the tea without letting the spout touch the porcelain. “My brother has not received a single cent from me. Nor will he.”
A faint, approving smirk curved the corner of Evelyn’s mouth. “Good. Because if you had paid him, you would have merely delayed his indictment by seventy-two hours. Derek Lawson is not an embezzler out of financial necessity, Maya. He is an embezzler out of sheer, unadulterated entitlement.”
She opened the manila folder on the table and slid three printed spreadsheets across to me.
“He didn't just steal eighty thousand,” Evelyn said flatly. “The eighty thousand was simply the shortfall we discovered yesterday afternoon in the escrow accounts. Our internal audit team worked through the night. Over the past eighteen months, Derek has siphoned over two hundred and forty thousand dollars through a shell vendor registered under his wife’s maiden name—Vance Logistics.”
I paused with my teacup halfway to my lips.
“Vance?” I repeated.
“Cassandra’s distant uncle on the northern branch of the family,” Evelyn explained, her tone dripping with disdain. “Cassandra thought she was being clever. She assumed that because the Vance name carries weight in Chatham County, our compliance officers wouldn't scrutinize the consulting invoices. She was wrong. We ran the corporate registry yesterday. The invoices were signed by Derek; the funds were wired to an account controlled by Cassandra.”
“Why are you telling me this, Evelyn?” I asked, setting the cup down. “Derek made his choices seven years ago when he stole from me. I don't protect him. I don't clean up his messes.”
“I’m telling you because your father attempted to call Julian Vance at one o’clock today,” Evelyn said.
My jaw tightened.
“Did he?”
“He did,” Evelyn said. “Richard Lawson managed to get Julian on the phone by claiming it was an urgent matter regarding the preservation trust. He told Julian that you were operating an illicit cash-laundering scheme through the Aldren’s private dining room, that you were insolvent, and that the Hollis Group was pulling all corporate business from your hotel due to safety concerns.”
A flare of anger burned hot in my chest. “That is outright slander.”
“Of course it is,” Evelyn said dismissively. “Julian didn't believe him for a second. But Julian *did* call me. Because my firm’s name was used in your father’s little extortion attempt.”
Evelyn leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, her eyes sharp and assessing.
“Julian Vance doesn't care about your father, Maya. But Julian is seventy-six years old, and he wants to liquidate his commercial holdings before the end of the fiscal year. He holds the master ground lease on the Aldren. You have twenty-six years left on that lease.”
“Yes,” I said cautiously.
“Julian’s trust is offering the freehold deed of this property for sale on Tuesday morning,” Evelyn said. “He’s tired of managing ground leases. He’s putting three commercial parcels up for private institutional bidding. If an outside private equity group buys the freehold, they can invoke Section 14, drag you through eighteen months of lease litigation, and force you out to redevelop this corner into high-density luxury condos.”
The ground beneath my feet seemed to dissolve.
This was the real danger. Not Richard’s phone call. Not the sixty thousand dollars. If Julian Vance sold the land beneath the Aldren to an aggressive real estate trust, my business could be bled dry by legal fees before my thirty-year lease even reached its midpoint.
“What is the asking price for the deed?” I asked quietly.
“Two point four million,” Evelyn said.
I let out a short, hollow laugh. “I run a successful boutique hotel, Evelyn. I do not have two point four million in liquid capital lying in a vault.”
Evelyn reached into her suit pocket, retrieved a sleek black fountain pen, and tapped it against the folder.
May you like
“You don't,” Evelyn said. “But the Hollis Group does. And we are currently looking for a partner to develop three new boutique properties along the Savannah riverfront. I like how you run this house, Maya. I like that you didn't give your criminal brother sixty thousand dollars to save your own skin. And most of all, I like people who know how to survive a Lawson.”
***
