“Into the bank, more like. I’m on the verge of something big.”
Professor Farrow’s voice dropped, but her ear was pressed against the door now. “If one of your so-called associates knocks on my door again, I’m calling the police.”
Had Louie returned while she was visiting her parents? If so, had he threatened the professor?
“You call the police,” Simon spat, “and you’ll have a bigger problem on your hands.”
Izzy tried to drown her panic with rapid breaths as she bounced Greta in her arms, hoping she wouldn’t cry again. What had Simon mixed himself up in?
“Not everyone is corrupt, Son.”
“Most people,” Simon replied, “appreciate money more than morality.”
“Maybe in your world but not in my house. Stop playing stakes with your family.”
“Hush,” Izzy whispered, speaking more to herself than the baby. How could Simon be gambling with them?
“Button it up, Simon,” the professor continued. “Or you’ll be out for good.”
Her husband stopped speaking, like he often did when he and the professor argued. Ending the conversation with his silence.
This was Simon’s house, she wanted to scream. His mother had left it to him.
Or not.
The idea sprouted like a weed in her muddied head, twisting and tangling through every other thought.
What if Simon had lied to her, like she’d lied to him? What if he wasn’t going to have a windfall from property in Cleveland? And what if he didn’t inherit this house?
If he’d lied to her about his standing, what exactly did he have?
Horses, apparently. A baby. And a wife who couldn’t return to live with her parents.
Professor Farrow continued to yell, but any sparring between the men was muffled in her ears.
Even if he’d lied, she and Simon would find a way to make it work. The stakes may be high, but Simon would bet on them.
21:Harper
On Friday morning, over a cup of Starbucks dark roast, Harper kept refreshing her email until a reply from Finn Sterling finally popped onto her screen. The Via Belle Literary Foundation, he wrote, had no plans to option any of her books for a film.
Was that his standard response or had he figured out who was behind the request?
If only she could explain offline why she wanted to turnSilver Summerinto a movie, and why she needed a response right away so she could have a proposal ready for Sissie on Tuesday.
Kelsey wasn’t here to push her out of her comfort zone, but she wasn’t going to cower in the kitchen either. Since she didn’t have a phone number or address for the foundation, she did the only other thing that made sense. She drove back to the gate below Haven House, waved to the red blink of a camera, and climbed over the fence.
About ten minutes after she’d settled into a front porch rocker, a Jeep Wrangler rumbled up the gravel drive, Finn Sterling in the driver’s seat.
Finn slammed his door and marched up to the porch like he was Russell Crowe inGladiator, hell-bent on restoring justice to the Roman Empire. “I thought I told you—”
“I know, I’m sorry I trespassed earlier this week.” Her legs begged her to run, back to her cave, but she didn’t move from the rocker. “I didn’t realize it was private property.”
“You’re quite aware of it now.”
“I just need to ask you a quick question,” she said.
Finn hopped onto the porch. “This property is not open to visitors, no matter how much you like Via’s books!”
