“I’m the one who handled our family’s finances. I can assure you that Frank didn’t bring any money to our marriage except what he made working construction. Remember his coupon clipping on Sunday nights?”
“I remember.” Zander nodded at a passerby walking a dog. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to take a look at Frank’s home computer, work computer, and cell phone.”
“Certainly. You’re welcome to.”
“Kurt Shaw told me that he and the police chief already searched them and found nothing. But it can’t hurt for me to double check.”
“Until the morning we met with Detective Shaw to talk about Frank’s autopsy,” Carolyn said, “I was certain that I knew Frank through and through. So very certain.”
“I also thought I knew him through and through.”
“Every time I’ve been presented with information that’s different from what he told me, my knee-jerk reaction is to push it away. It’s painful to think that Frank lied to me, that I didn’t know him like I thought I did,” she said. “I still do want to know the truth, however. Even if it is painful. I think Courtney and Sarah and I are entitled to the truth.”
“I agree.”
“I have to remember that the one thing I know for certain about Frank is the one thing that matters most: I know that he loved me. No matter what, I can hang on to that.” She gave her head a slight shake, as if to throw off the tears hovering beneath the surface. “He loved Courtney and Sarah and Daniel and you.” She squeezed his arm. “He loved you. You believe that. Don’t you?”
Heat constricted his throat. “Yes.”
“Frank and I weren’t given any sons of our own, so imagine our surprise—”
“—and horror.” He knew where she was going with her sentence.
“Imagine our surprise anddelightwhen we were given two boys to take care of. You and your brother made our lives complete. You were no trouble.”
“Never?” he asked skeptically.
“Well, almost never.”
“You’re remembering us as angels now that we’re grown.”
“I’m remembering that it was a joy to have you under our roof. I’m so proud of you. And Frank was, too.”
“I couldn’t have asked for a better aunt and uncle. It blows me away, what you did for us.”
“It was our pleasure.” Ever since he’d come to live with her, she’d taken every opportunity to insist that it was their pleasure to provide for him and Daniel—even when he’d known doing so had sometimes been expensive and tiring and stressful.
“It’s good to have you here, Zander. But it would be selfish of me to keep you in Merryweather if you’re ready to leave and finish your trip.”
His body braced against the idea of leaving. “I’m not planning on leaving until we know what happened with Frank.” He had no sense of closure. Not about Frank. Not about Britt.
Apprehension continued to churn within him whenever he considered how Frank’s change of identity coupled with his disappearance the night before his death might impact Carolyn’s safety.
“When you decide that it’s time for you to leave,” she told him, “whether or not we’ve been able to discover what happened to Frank, then I want you to go ahead and leave. I would never want to hold you back.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet, Aunt Carolyn.”
“Just promise me that when you are, you’ll go.”
“I promise.”
The next morning at Sweet Art, Britt poured all five of her senses into the great love of her life.
Chocolate.
At the moment, she was tempering the chocolate, the step in the chocolate-making process that gave beginners trouble. It wouldn’t dare to give her trouble, however. After years of spending the largest share of her time, passion, and ability on chocolate, she’d become one with the medium.
She could taste the idea of a recipe before she made it. She’d traveled internationally to the birthplaces of chocolate to learn each culture’s secrets and to sample the nuances of their cacao beans. She read about chocolate. She attended meetings with fellow chocolatiers during which they all talked gleefully about chocolate. She often dreamed about chocolate.
