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bequeaths you a small fortune, no matter what the circumstances. Cunningham stifled a smug smile as the bearer of good news and read the last sentence about the trusts. “The funds will be available to each individual on his or her fortieth birthday.”
    His lips were parted to continue, but David bounced to his feet, shaking the table and the floor with his weighty momentum. “Fuck!” He struck the table with both fists, which spilled coffee that everyone was too stunned to notice. Then he stomped to the window and stood facing the glass, arms folded across his belly. Michelle chewed on her lip and looked at Bitsy with tear-glazed eyes.
    Storm followed Michelle’s gaze to Bitsy’s face. Bitsy looked into her lap and murmured, “Oh, dear.” Martin looked pale and still. Storm looked back at Cunningham, who tried not to appear perplexed.
    David caught her movement in his peripheral vision. He jerked his head toward her and a shock of black hair fell into one eye. He snarled at Storm. “Yoa wouldn’t understand.”
    Bitsy still stared at her lap, so Storm looked at Martin. His eyes were black with anger, and he shook his head at her, apparently in warning. Cunningham gazed around the room at each of them. A strand of his silver hair had fallen across his forehead, but he pushed it back with a small snort. With utmost dignity, he read the last sentences of the will, technicalities nobody listened to. Then he snapped his briefcase closed and strode from the room.
    Lorraine slipped out with him. Bitsy Hamasaki and her three children clustered at the window with their backs to Storm.
    Storm sat stunned in her chair for a second, then duplicated Cunningham’s and Lorraine’s swift exits. A headache pounded behind her left eye. She headed for the solitude of her office cubbyhole.

Chapter 10
    Storm dropped into her office chair and stared at the back of the door she’d closed carefully behind her. She’d always been sensitive to the fact that she wasn’t a full-fledged member of the family. Still, she had at least felt like she could share her problems with them and they would do the same. But it appeared that Hamasaki had been the glue that held her in the family orbit.
    Storm picked up the phone. “Hi, Lorraine. Can you come to my office?”
    Lorraine sounded worn and a little apprehensive, but she was at the door in less than a minute. She looked like she hadn’t slept in the last week. Her hair was in disarray and her eyes had lost their light. She looked like an ill, elderly woman.
    Storm offered the older woman the more comfortable desk chair, which she had pulled to face the other chair in the room. She sat across from Lorraine, close enough that their knees almost touched.
    â€œI’m glad about your inheritance. You deserve every cent,” Storm said.
    â€œThank you. Mr. Hamasaki took good care of Ben and me.” Lorraine twisted her wedding ring and kept her eyes directed toward her lap. “I wish I had…done some things differently.”
    â€œI wish I had, too.”
    Lorraine looked at Storm quickly with an expression almost like hope, then looked down again. “Did Mr. Hamasaki show you his recent work?”
    â€œA little, but I’ve lost some of his papers. Do you have any duplicates?”
    Lorraine slumped a fraction more in her seat.
    Damn, she’d put the poor woman on the spot. Hamasaki always was trying to teach patience, a sense of timing. “I was just hoping you might be able to help me with some of the documents that were stolen.”
    Lorraine spoke cautiously. “A man came and started Mr. Hamasaki looking into some things. He was sick.” She looked up at Storm. “Was this why you called me?”
    â€œUh, not exactly. Do you remember his name?”
    Lorraine pressed her lips into a tight line. “He told me his name was Mike Oshiro, but that wasn’t his real name.” She sat up