“Well!” Sara said. “It makes for a change to find a reason that Derek Oliver should have stayed alive. If he had, Reid, who was chopping logs and cutting grass, could have sat at the head of the big table.”
“Instead,” Kate said, “he was sleeping in the stable. Metaphorically speaking, that is.”
“Poor guy,” Randal said.
“Do we tell him?” Jack asked
“We must. By the end of the month he can take claim,” Sara said. “I’m so glad that this place won’t go to Billy’s greedy brothers.”
“Who denuded it,” Reid said.
“Reid will pay lower taxes since the house is now worth less,” Kate said. When they looked at her, she shrugged. “It’s my job to think of these things.”
It was Sara, the storyteller, who thought of something else. “Oh no! I just remembered. The Lonely Laird. Billy’s story.”
No one replied.
“Billy said that in 1944, James’s nephew was executed for murder. Is Reid the grandson of the executed man? Do you think that would make any difference to the inheritance?”
“What kind of murder was he charged with?” Randal asked. “One that was carefully planned or a you-insulted-my-mother then one unlucky punch?” Considering Randal’s background, it made sense that he’d know about this.
“In this case,” Jack said, “I can’t see that it would matter how a man died. Reid Graham is related to James Lachlan and that’s all that counts.”
“By marriage,” Sara said. “There’s no blood shared, but it may be close enough of a relation for a judge to turn the property over to him.”
“I hope so.” Kate looked at her aunt. “Maybe you could do some research, then write a report making the nephew look innocent. Unjustly accused, that sort of thing. We could tell a judge that giving Reid the property is righting a wrong.” Kate didn’t look at Jack. They had spoken of what they wanted with the house. This would certainly change things.
“His grandmother is still alive,” Sara said. “I guess we could ask her.”
Randal gave a snort. “That should go over well. ‘Was your late husband a really bad man or was it all a miscarriage of justice?’ Guess which door she’ll choose?”
“Especially when it could mean her grandson would inherit the property or not,” Jack said.
In unison, they looked at Sara. “I know, get back to researching.”
Kate nodded to the notebook on the table. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”
Sara picked it up and flipped the pages to show a lot of handwriting in many colors of ink. “I had a dream about a book plot and I made notes.” She put the book down. “How are we going to deal with what happened this morning?” She looked at Jack. “We don’t want them all packing up and leaving in fear that an active murderer is among us.”
Jack clamped his teeth together. He knew what was necessary. “We’ll have to keep the lie that it was an accident. It was my inability to see that a chimney was missing bricks and about to fall down.”
They could see that his pride was going to be hurt.
“That leaves us with the question of whether or not we should tell Reid of his possible inheritance,” Randal said.
“I’ll do it!” Sara said.
Randal groaned. “So you can grill him within an inch of his life about his ancestor?”
Sara smiled. “You know me too well. I will—”
She cut off because the two couples, Kate and Jack, Randal and Lea, were giving quick glances at each other. Like all lovers, they thought no one saw them. But Sara not only saw but felt the vibrations from them. They wanted to be alone! “Anything else?” She could feel them holding their breath. Would she be like that annoying colleague who said, “I know everyone wants to go to lunch, but I have one more question.”
But she didn’t detain them. She waved her hand and the four of them vanished with the speed of cartoon characters. She expected to see white smoke behind them.
Passion that cannot be denied—as it was euphemistically called in her novels—was great on paper. In real life, for those not involved, it was a major nuisance.
She sat there for a moment, looking at the table that needed to be cleared, and was glad she didn’t have to do it. Lenny had found others to help.He’s probably the one who hired the kid with the silent mower, she thought.
