“Finn!” Ingrid hopped out of her chair. “What brings you here this morning?”
He kissed Ingrid’s cheek and then smoothed his hand over a mahogany-striped tie. “Do I need an excuse to see my grandmother?”
See his grandmother.Like Harper would believe he was just popping by for a visit when he was actively conspiring against her.
“Why are you all dressed up?” Ingrid asked.
“Had an early meeting.” He glanced at Harper before looking back at his grandmother. “Is she harassing you?”
“Hardly.” Joy spilled over in Ingrid’s laugh as she patted his long sleeve. “Harper wants to honor Olivia’s life, just like the rest of us do.”
“She has a funny way of showing it,” he said like she wasn’t even on the patio.
“You two should chat.” Ingrid picked up the coffee pot. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”
“Thanks, Gram.”
Finn opened and then closed the sliding door behind his grandmother, leaving Harper to once again face this infuriating man alone.
She crossed her arms. “Harassing?”
Not that it mattered what Finn said. His opinion of her had already tunneled under the lowest possible bar.
“Seemed like the right word.”
Harper eyed the gutter above the porch. “Do you have cameras here too?”
“None that I know of.” He pulled a third chair up to the table, sitting across from her. “I heard through the family grapevine that my grandmother was expecting a guest from California.”
She shrugged. “Could have been someone else from California.”
“Right.”
“I guess you don’t have many Californians show up at your door.”
“Do you think she’s going to give you those film rights?” he asked.
While she was hardly relaxed, Harper’s arms fell to her side. “I was hoping she could tell me more about how Eli—your grandfather, it seems—knew Olivia. She told me that I needed to talk to you.”
He stretched out his khaki-covered legs. “Here I am.”
“I told her that we already spoke.”
“You’re remarkably resilient, Harper.”
“I’ve had some practice.”
“And now I have a few questions of my own.” He swiped his hand down his tie as if preparing for an inquisition. “Like why you thought I was Simon Farrow.”
“I found something engraved with his name, and I thought you might have lost it. I didn’t realize he’d been married to Olivia.”
His brow crinkled. “Where did you find this something?”
Her gaze traveled over his shoulder to the windswept grain, wishing she could lose herself in the stalks. “Two can play the stonewalling game.”
“I’m not trying to stonewall. I just can’t tell you everything you want to know.”
“I only want to remember Olivia, like your family does.”
