Close to Destiny (A Magical Love Story)

Chapter 50

May 20, an hour later

I cursed under my breath all the way to Violet's Tea Dream and sat down at a tiny booth in the back corner. It was strange being in this environment again. I could still see Destiny sitting opposite me, laughing as I fumbled with my book about dream analysis. I didn't actually intend to return. I guess, for me, this teahouse was located in the right place at the right time. I needed to sit down, have a hot drink and think. The whole idea of the hotel's ownership being some kind of secret seemed preposterous.

A minute after I ordered a cup of green tea, I looked up to see Mary Beth timidly opening the door. Her canvas bag was empty, and she craned her neck as if looking for someone. I waved to her, and she hurried over to my table.

"Did you follow me here?" I asked. "It seems like too much of a coincidence."

"Yes, that's right," she said, smiling almost mischievously. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all." I kept my voice calm, but my heart was racing. She obviously knew something about The Grand East Hotel and was ready to share the information with me.

"I'm sorry for the way he spoke to you," I said.

"I'm used to it. But he won't be able to continue that behavior with me for much longer. I've got a better offer and am quitting today."

Her eyes were sparkling.

"That's what you're going to do when you go back to the office?"

"Absolutely. And will they be surprised—probably thinking I didn't have the courage."

"What made you follow me?"

"Since I'm quitting and don't have much esteem for my current employers, I thought I might be of some help to you regarding the hotel."

She glanced from side to side around the empty tea salon and then leaned closer across the table.

"A wealthy young businessman built the place in the nineteenth century, but it was registered under the name of an investment partnership that he formed with several others. So it's as if this investment company—Liverpool Investors—was actually the original owner. He eventually bought the company out but continued to use the name Liverpool on all legal documents. The whole thing gets even more complicated when we reach the point of the place burning down. Liverpool was accused of arson. The investors supposedly wanted money from insurance policies."

Mary Beth's eyes were as round as saucers as she pushed unwieldy strands of hair behind her ears, took a breath and continued. I didn't dare say a word, somehow afraid that the slightest interruption might bring her story to an end.

"Nothing was ever proven, as is often the case with that sort of thing. And of course, Liverpool couldn't raise the money to rebuild. At the same time, the owner was going through some kind of personal tragedy. Anyway, to make a long story short, he reorganized under yet another name—Willow Investments—and was somehow able to raise the money he needed through a whole new set of investors. And there you have it. Since then, the controlling stake of the hotel was passed down through generations of the same family. They control everything. But it's not as clear as it seems. Because it was done through a trust fund, which ended up passing through many hands as people married, divorced, died. No one is one hundred percent sure of the exact name of the person running the show today. It could be any one of the eight original families who invested. Many of the children of these families intermarried. They all have stakes in the place, and some are through trust funds as well."

"But you're sure you know the real owner?" I finally asked, bursting with anticipation. "After all of that confusion?"

"Yes," she said solemnly. "Just a few of us who have had access to all of the documents are able to pin it down. Or at least down to the family. And of course, the tax collectors know."

"What's the name? Are you willing to tell me?"

"That's what I came here to do. It's the Taylor family. They've kept their grip on the place in spite of the turmoil throughout the years. You see, the founder's name was Zachary Taylor."

I could feel the color drain from my face. I knew that name very well. But it couldn't be the same. Or could it? Was the Zachary Taylor I knew some great-great grandson? Obviously, he wasn't the original. I shook my head at my own silliness.

"Are you all right?" Mary Beth was asking me.

"Huh?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm sorry, I only wanted to say that... I've met a few Taylors around here so was wondering."

"From what I hear, they keep to themselves. They're very, very discreet people. The majority share in the hotel was part of a trust fund for the longest time, and always had been held by one member of the Taylor family."

"Who is that now?"

"That's the one thing I don't know. The Taylor trusts are handled by an attorney who represents the family. And there have been many changes in the past few years. A lot of deaths in the family."

The waitress set my teacup and pot on the table and asked Mary Beth what she would like to order. But Mary Beth jumped to her feet in a flash.

"I can't stay," she said. "I have a job to quit."

"Why did you tell me this story?" I asked.

"I have nothing to lose, and I had the feeling you might have something to gain."

And then Mary Beth walked out of my life.

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