Elisa settled onto one of the hard wooden chairs across from Mr. Bowman’s desk. She’d never encountered a grizzly bear, but she imagined they’d be a lot like Noah Hebert—temperamental, unpredictable, and overly scruffy. The man needed a haircut as much as he needed an attitude adjustment, and she had little hope of him receiving either.
She avoided looking at the man-bear taking the seat to her left and tried to focus on the grandfather clock tucked in the corner of Mr. Bowman’s office instead. The air conditioner kicked on overhead, sending a welcome draft across her flushed cheeks. What in the world had happened to the kinder version of Noah that comforted her in the kitchen after Delia’s collapse? The man who distracted her from the sight of blood and took charge when she couldn’t?
Some burr had nestled up in his saddle blanket, that’s what. Well—maybe bears didn’t wear saddles. She was mixing metaphors, but that’s what trying to communicate with a man like Noah did—confused someone senseless.
Once upon a time, he’d kissed her senseless, but that was a memory she hadn’t entertained in a decade and certainly wasn’t going to start again now. She lifted her chin.
“I’m sure you’re both wondering why you’re here.” Mr. Bowman folded his hands atop a thick file resting at the center of his tidy desk.
“More curious as to why she is,” Noah muttered. “Is this about my grandfather?”
“Indeed.” Mr. Bowman pushed his glasses up on his nose. “There’s been a rather peculiar turn of events, but Gilbert was always a little peculiar himself, wasn’t he?” He smiled fondly.
“I actually didn’t know Gil—Mr. Hebert very well.” Elisa frowned. “He came to the local puzzlers club meetings, but we rarely talked.”
She was the only Bergeron in the club, and he had been the only Hebert, so by default they gravitated to opposite sides of the room. Sort of like all of her and Noah’s extended family members did at church. Every Sunday was like a wedding, split with a groom’s side and a bride’s side. Maybe Delia was right, and no one cared that much anymore. But habits ran deep in Magnolia Bay, and those church pews might as well be branded with family crests.
“Well, Gilbert seemed to knowyoubetter than you might realize.” Mr. Bowman leaned back in his chair, the worn leather creaking.
“What’s this all about?” Noah’s impatience shone through his clipped tone.
She’d wanted to ask the same thing, but leave it to Noah to pave the way with rudeness. “I’m sure he’s getting to that, sugar.”
Noah’s eyes cut hard to her profile, but somehow she resisted the urge to look back. She kept her gaze trained on the lawyer.
Mr. Bowman tugged at his shirt collar with one finger. “I know this is unconventional. But Noah, I do have good news.”
Noah leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. His jeans were dusty, and blue paint flecks she hadn’t noticed earlier dotted his right forearm. “I could use some good news today.”
She could too. Did he really think he’d had a harder day than her? He hadn’t watched Delia hit the floor, hadn’t had to process the fact that his entire life might be about to change with the potential sale of the diner. But Elisa wasn’t about to make this a competition—or a scene. She sat quietly, tucking back her instincts to protest his claim.
Her father would be proud.
“There’s a stipulation to your grandfather’s will. Now that six months have passed since his death, I’m free to disclose it.” Mr. Bowman picked up the file lying on the desk but didn’t make a move to open it. “There’s more inheritance to be had.”
“What?” Noah sat up straight. “How?”
“Like I said, it’s unconventional.”
Elisa frowned. More money given on the anniversary of a death? That was more than a little unconventional. But she wasn’t there to judge. To that point, she still had no idea why she was there at all. Other than she was clearly making Noah uncomfortable, and that was a bit of a win. She allowed a small smile.
“This is great timing.” Noah rocked back on two chair legs, his eyes wide as the announcement visibly sank in. His face practically shone with relief. “You have no idea how great.”
“Hang on there, son.” Mr. Bowman’s tone grew cautious. “There’s a condition.” He swung his gaze toward Elisa. “This is where you come in.”
She froze.
Noah’s chair legs landed with a thud. “I’m sorry?”
“Me?” Her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. “I don’t understand, Mr. Bowman.” She felt as confused as Noah looked.
He offered a patient smile. “Call me August.”
“August,” she obediently parroted, still perplexed.
The tension radiating off Noah, however, was clear as the bay on a summer morning. “How in the world does my grandfather’s will have anything to do with Elisa?”
“Good question.” August pulled a sealed envelope from the file and handed it across the desk to Noah. “The remainder of the inheritance is hidden away. Inside that envelope are clues to its location.”
