“The buyer from three years ago — Evercrest Development Group — never lost interest in this shoreline.

Last week they closed on the three parcels that join your southern line.” Colette had come out onto the porch behind me now, a heavy sweater pulled around her shoulders, watching him with plain suspicion.

“They want to make you a completely legal, transparent offer,” Beaumont went on.

“Directly to the rightful trustee this time.

Four million dollars.

Cash.

No contingencies, no financing, a clean thirty-day close with the funds in escrow by Friday.

They’ll build a private retreat on the water.”