He grimaced in acknowledgment. “I know.”
“They’re still fighting?”
He nodded.
“Maybe tonight’s not the right time to ask more questions.” Much as I wanted to, we’d probably have the same results as if we threw ourselves against a brick wall.
He finished the rest of his wine, then turned to me with a familiar determined look on his face. “Okay, then.”
“Okay?” I repeated warily. “Why does thisokaymake me nervous?”
“Come on.” He wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me up.
God, I loved the feel of Noah’s hand around mine.
I did not love being clueless as he dragged me across the lawn, through the milling people, and into the house. “What are we doing?”
We passed Shira, who caught my eyes and rolled her own.
We wound our way through the great room, then into the hall, and I started resisting as I realized where we were going. I dug in my heels when we reached the study. “Noah...”
“You want your grandmother’s letters, don’t you? You want her records. You want to find out where she came from.”
I wavered. “I want to talk to your grandfather! Not go through his stuff.”
“Nowyou have morals?”
“Won’t your family be wicked pissed if they catch us?” And now, knowing more about Noah’s relationship with his dad and grandfather, I didn’t want them to be even more strained.
“They’re busy hosting their friends. They won’t notice.” He pulled me inside and shut the door.
“I’d like the record to note I’m against this.”
“Chicken. Come on.” He peeled up the corner of the mouse pad on the desk, lifted a key, and unlocked the desk’s top drawer.
“That’s a terrible hiding place.”
“Right? And look.” He lifted a ring of keys from the drawer. “Thisis for everything else.” He unlocked a floor-to-ceiling cabinet on the far wall from the bookshelves, revealing endless files.
I took in the determined energy shining through Noah as he moved about. He walked a tightrope, both constantly angry with his father and grandfather yet wanting to please them badly. If you didn’t clean a wound before the scar tissue formed over it, it became harder to rout out the dirt. “You’re closer to your grandma than your grandfather, right?”
He nodded, riffling through another drawer. “I used to follow her around when I was a kid. My mom always tried to fix things, you know? When I’d get in fights with my dad. Grandma didn’t. She’d be out in the garden, and I’d join her, and she wouldn’t talk—just clip here, plant here, this is a hybrid tea rose, this is a shrub rose, this is a climber.”
“Are you still mad on her behalf?”
He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. She’s done so much for this family—not just bringing in money, but playing host for my grandfather,holding dinners and parties for his business associates, going to events, raising the family—and what, she was picked because she was rich? Not because she was the partner he wanted? He was writinglove lettersto someone else while he was dating her?” He shook his head. “It’s shitty.”
“Yeah.”
“Would you do it?” He focused on me intently. “What your grandmother did?”
“It depends what you’re asking,” I said carefully. “Would I write letters to someone I loved? Sure.”
“Even if you knew he had a girlfriend?”
I stiffened. “I’m pretty sure my grandmother was Edward’s girlfriend before Helen was. Besides, why are we putting this on Ruth?Why not Edward?Hewas the one making a choice—love or money.”
“Ruth is the one who broke up with him.”
