Butterfly Cove by Christina Skye Page A

probably be very late. Grace emailed me that she wanted to see you as soon as she could. I’d hoped they would be back for the Harvest Fair, but they won’t be.”
    When Olivia pushed open the heavy wooden door, the house felt cold and unwelcoming. This house had never really felt like a home. Growing up, she had spent as many hours as she could at Caro’s house or with Jilly. On the weekends the group had spent time with Grace, working at her grandfather’s animal clinic. By silent agreement, the friends had never gone to her house. It had never been comfortable.
    Her father had seen to that.
    But Sawyer Sullivan was dead and there would be no way to find out what had made him so cold and judgmental to his only child. Maybe it was the desertion of his wife while Olivia had been so young—or maybe some other disappointment she would never know.
    Right now the only thing she needed to focus on was healing her own life.
    She walked slowly through the silent house, her heels tapping on the expensive wooden floor. Jilly followed her, piling the boxes in the kitchen.
    “I’ll take half of the cupcakes for Walker. The man does love chocolate. I’ll take half the loaf of bread, if you want. In exchange, you have to come over for breakfast for the rest of the week. It’s that or no deal.”
    “You always drive a hard bargain. Fine, it’s a deal. But let’s sort this out fast. I don’t want to be late for the judging.”
    Once all the food cartons had been split between them, Olivia ran a hand through her hair. “Thanks again for everything, Jilly. I really do appreciate—”
    They both jumped at a sharp beep. Frowning, Olivia dug out her cell phone. “Voice mail? The phone didn’t even ring. All my calls have been going right through to voice mail lately.” Olivia frowned at the number. “It’s my father’s lawyer.”
    Olivia listened to the message twice. The lawyer needed to speak to her as soon as possible in connection with her father’s estate. Judging by his voice, the news was not going to be good. Olivia listened to the terse message one more time, wishing he had left her more information.
    “Don’t brood. It’s a waste of time. Call him right now and find out what it is. If you need to go see him, I’ll drive you over there,” Jilly said flatly.
    Olivia forced a smile. “He probably just needs more signatures. I’ve had to sign at least twenty documents already.”
    When Olivia called the lawyer back, she didn’t beat around the bush. “I got your message, Harrison. What have you found out?”
    “I’m afraid my news is not very good, Olivia. We haven’t found any other accounts in your father’s name.”
    “None? You went through all my father’s banking records and his business papers?”
    “We did, and everything that you wrote down is accounted for. As I understand it, there were two savings accounts set up for you as a legacy from your grandmother. There was also a bequest and items of a sentimental nature from your grandmother that were left for you in an additional safe-deposit box.” He cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. “So far we have not found any of those accounts.”
    “My grandmother’s legacy is gone, too?” Olivia swallowed hard. She had hoped to use her grandmother’s bequest to meet her expenses until she found a job. How did you manage to make fifty thousand dollars disappear?
    “Isn’t there some way to track those things? Don’t banks keep a list of depositors? I thought that was a security requirement after 9/11?”
    “In the case of very large cash deposits, yes. But not in the matter of safe-deposit boxes. The contents are not examined or recorded by the bank. Privacy is respected.” Harrison Monroe cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve done everything I can. Of course, you might consider other measures. Possibly you can check your father’s personal letters. If that is unsuccessful, I would suggest you hire a private