Leah’s name came up, Beck offered his thoughts on how best to handle her, and he wasn’t talking about the house.
Declan put his hands on top of the two files on either side of his notepad. “I’m trying to piece the house ownership records together.”
“Why?” Beck opened a beer then opened a second and passed it to Declan.
“I figure you’re not the only one who should know what’s going on.” And that was almost the truth. Up until now, before meeting Leah, Declan had blocked most of the details. He knew they owned Shadow Hill together and that it was in big financial trouble. End of story.
Now that he wanted to keep the house, he had to educate himself on every piece of paper. Mostly, he had to be ready for whatever argument Leah threw at him tomorrow.
Beck leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “I kind of like being the one in the know.”
“Of course you do.”
“Look, the house ownership is pretty simple.”
Declan learned long ago not to say that. It didn’t apply to any part of his life. “I’ve found that nothing about Charlie or his past is simple.”
“Well, this is really about Marc Baron and our grandmother.” The front legs of the chair hit the ground and Beck started sifting through the documents. He pulled out what looked like an old deed and put it in front of Declan. “Leah’s parents owned the house but lost it when they lost all of their money in Dad’s con.”
That much sounded familiar. “When he took the town’s finances.”
“He did more than that. He pocketed insurance funds, retirement funds and a special fund that was supposed to be used to market the town for tourists.” More shuffling, then Beck added other documents to the stack in front of Declan. “A big hotel chain was working with the town leadership at the time about building. The state was involved. All that stopped and the hotel pulled out when Charlie disappeared with the money.”
The question raced up his throat. Declan bit it back, thinking family harmony outweighed knowing the answer, but then he thought about Leah and the sadness that moved into her eyes when she talked about the house. Maybe hiding and avoiding weren’t the answer after all.
Declan tried to soften the blow of his words. “You realize this is the guy you defend all the time.”
His baby brother finally looked up. “Who?”
“Charlie…our father.”
“What I’ve said is he’s never been found guilty in court.”
That kind of parsing always led to trouble. Declan had heard it in the military when guys tried to justify bad decisions. He’d heard it when he was nineteen and Charlie popped up to talk about “the old days” and insisted he’d been the wronged party. “Beck, come on.”
“Guilt versus innocence is a big deal in my job,” Beck pointed out.
“But you just laid out—”
Beck held up a finger. “The allegations.”
This was a wall Declan couldn’t climb over. Not now. Being a smart guy, Beck knew the facts. He just added everything up and got a different result from most people. “Whatever. Keep going.”
There was a beat of tense silence. Some staring. Beck’s mouth tightened, but then he went back to the paper compiling. “The house went on the market. A series of families owned it and one wanted to break it into rooms as a bed and breakfast or something, but they couldn’t get the zoning changed.”
“I’m sure Marc Baron was at the bottom of that.” Declan could almost envision the man manipulating the rules to suit him.
Declan had never met the older man but he’d seen the letters and the lawsuit. Marc Baron spewed hate. Declan tried to chalk it up to the guy being betrayed by a friend and a person he trusted, but it went deeper. After all these years Leah’s dad hadn’t shown any signs of moving on. He still wrote hate mail to “the heirs of Charlie Hanover.” Declan hoped Leah hadn’t inherited those traits.
Beck’s beer bottle hit the table with a clank. “So,
Declan put his hands on top of the two files on either side of his notepad. “I’m trying to piece the house ownership records together.”
“Why?” Beck opened a beer then opened a second and passed it to Declan.
“I figure you’re not the only one who should know what’s going on.” And that was almost the truth. Up until now, before meeting Leah, Declan had blocked most of the details. He knew they owned Shadow Hill together and that it was in big financial trouble. End of story.
Now that he wanted to keep the house, he had to educate himself on every piece of paper. Mostly, he had to be ready for whatever argument Leah threw at him tomorrow.
Beck leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “I kind of like being the one in the know.”
“Of course you do.”
“Look, the house ownership is pretty simple.”
Declan learned long ago not to say that. It didn’t apply to any part of his life. “I’ve found that nothing about Charlie or his past is simple.”
“Well, this is really about Marc Baron and our grandmother.” The front legs of the chair hit the ground and Beck started sifting through the documents. He pulled out what looked like an old deed and put it in front of Declan. “Leah’s parents owned the house but lost it when they lost all of their money in Dad’s con.”
That much sounded familiar. “When he took the town’s finances.”
“He did more than that. He pocketed insurance funds, retirement funds and a special fund that was supposed to be used to market the town for tourists.” More shuffling, then Beck added other documents to the stack in front of Declan. “A big hotel chain was working with the town leadership at the time about building. The state was involved. All that stopped and the hotel pulled out when Charlie disappeared with the money.”
The question raced up his throat. Declan bit it back, thinking family harmony outweighed knowing the answer, but then he thought about Leah and the sadness that moved into her eyes when she talked about the house. Maybe hiding and avoiding weren’t the answer after all.
Declan tried to soften the blow of his words. “You realize this is the guy you defend all the time.”
His baby brother finally looked up. “Who?”
“Charlie…our father.”
“What I’ve said is he’s never been found guilty in court.”
That kind of parsing always led to trouble. Declan had heard it in the military when guys tried to justify bad decisions. He’d heard it when he was nineteen and Charlie popped up to talk about “the old days” and insisted he’d been the wronged party. “Beck, come on.”
“Guilt versus innocence is a big deal in my job,” Beck pointed out.
“But you just laid out—”
Beck held up a finger. “The allegations.”
This was a wall Declan couldn’t climb over. Not now. Being a smart guy, Beck knew the facts. He just added everything up and got a different result from most people. “Whatever. Keep going.”
There was a beat of tense silence. Some staring. Beck’s mouth tightened, but then he went back to the paper compiling. “The house went on the market. A series of families owned it and one wanted to break it into rooms as a bed and breakfast or something, but they couldn’t get the zoning changed.”
“I’m sure Marc Baron was at the bottom of that.” Declan could almost envision the man manipulating the rules to suit him.
Declan had never met the older man but he’d seen the letters and the lawsuit. Marc Baron spewed hate. Declan tried to chalk it up to the guy being betrayed by a friend and a person he trusted, but it went deeper. After all these years Leah’s dad hadn’t shown any signs of moving on. He still wrote hate mail to “the heirs of Charlie Hanover.” Declan hoped Leah hadn’t inherited those traits.
Beck’s beer bottle hit the table with a clank. “So,
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