“Mr. Horton is ready for you.”
Luke rose and followed her. When he’d told Finley about the disciplinary actions the state bar had taken against Rosco Horton, she’d supported Luke’s plan to meet her father’s attorney and told Luke to take as much time off work today as he needed. He knewshe didn’t expect him to make up the time it would take to drive to Hartwell, meet with Rosco, and drive back. But he’d stay late at the Center tonight and make it up anyway.
Rosco’s office was old-school. The green carpet and dark wood gave the place an eighties vibe.
The brunette knocked on Rosco’s door, then opened it for Luke.
“Thank you, Julia,” Rosco said as he stood. The door clicked softly behind Luke as the older man came around the desk with a smile. They shook hands, exchanged introductions, and took their seats.
Rosco appeared to be in his early-to-mid seventies. He had the body of a mall Santa Claus, without the beard. He wore red suspenders and a tie that looked uncomfortably tight.
“Let’s talk about how I might be able to help you,” Rosco said.
“I’d like to have my will drawn up.”
“Yes. Very wise. We can certainly handle that for you.”
Rosco explained the steps involved as Luke studied him. The older man was polite and outgoing. Confident and kind.
When Luke met Robbie, he’d been able to see that Robbie had the capacity to conceal. He didn’t see that here. Rosco seemed like someone’s trustworthy grandfather, which was disturbing, seeing as how the disciplinary actions against Rosco called his trustworthiness into question.
Luke put more pressure on Rosco, asking him questions about the mission of his one-man firm and the level of confidentiality Luke could expect.
Rosco showed no sign of agitation as he patiently fielded Luke’s questions.
Rosco might be a good man who’d made a few mistakes over the course of his career. Or he might be an excellent actor ... Santa Claus on the outside, a snake on the inside.
Either way, this meeting had not brought Luke the clarity he’d wanted.
When Finley arrived home from work the following evening, she discovered a package stuffed into her mailbox. She retrieved scissors from her desk and cut the top of the envelope off.Brothers: Twenty-Five Stories About the Ties That Bindslid into her hand.
For the next two hours, she interrupted her power reading only to heat leftovers for dinner and to give Sally and Dudley the hedgehog their evening play session. Every time she encountered a reference or word or detail that reminded her of her father, she noted it with a highlighter and placed a strip of paper between the pages to mark it.
The beautiful stories examined many different facets of brotherhood, confirming her initial impression that this was a book her father would have enjoyed.
However, reading it had not illuminated her next step. At no point had she experienced a spark of rightness like when she’d seen the song lyrics at the train depot museum.
It could be that any old copy ofBrotherswould not do. Perhaps only the copy that had once belonged to the Misty River Library would provide the next clue.
In which case, her father’s final treasure hunt would inevitably end here.
Iread the entire book, and none of the potential clues I found stood out with any significance,” Finley said to Luke the next day over lunch.
The two of them occupied a table in the corner of Sugar Maple Kitchen. He’d agreed to share lunch with her here because this setting, away from Furry Tails, gave them a degree of privacy.
She savored the taste of her salad—spinach, currants, green apple, and walnuts. “I’ve been pondering the places in the book I marked, but honestly, it feels like a reach to call any of them clues.”
Her feelings toward Luke were thorny, thanks to his rejection of her. Since the Valentine’s party, she’d been having a hard time falling asleep at night. And then every morning when she woke up and remembered the state of things between herself and Luke, disappointment washed over her.
Spending time with him at work and sitting across from him now filled her with an uneasy combination of pining and animosity. The important thing, she kept reminding herself, was to take the high road. She refused to abandon her five-step plan for Luke because of her resentment. No, indeed. She was made of sterner stuff than that.
Sugar Maple Kitchen was currently providing him with food. Step one of the Restoration of Luke—check! And it offered additional conditioning to the town, its people, and the social practice of a shared meal. Step four—check!
A plate of pork chops and veggies sat before Luke, though his attention was currently captured by theBrothersbook in his hand. With his blunt masculine fingers, he made his way to each of the pages she’d noted. His dark head bent as he read, and she longed to reach out and run her fingertips through the brown strands of his hair, which curled slightly at the tips—
Geez, Finley! No.
His hazel gaze flicked up to hers. “Which of the places you marked do you think is most likely to hold a clue?”
