Although they’d already made love, they were still getting to know each other as adults. She was floating in a bubble of bliss, but the bubble could burst at any moment and she’d be alone again, just her and Katie. It was worth the risk.
He was worth the risk.
<>
Mattie settled in for her first night at the nursing home, cursing Jenna under her breath. The bed was awful, and so were the pillows. They’d put her in a private room, but it was a dinky little hole and there was no shower or bathtub in the bathroom. The closet wouldn’t hold much of anything, and there were only two tiny little drawers to put her things in. They’d made her wear a hospital gown to sleep in, and the place was noisy, with the woman across the hall crying for someone to come and help her. An aide would go in and as soon as she came out, the woman would start crying again.
She’d go insane if she had to stay in this godawful place.
<>
Jenna followed Al back to the inn. She parked in front and stared at the moss-streaked siding. Why had her mother become involved with Uncle Charlie in the first place? Did Dad know that Charlie was his wife’s lover? Why didn’t Mom and Dad have other kids? Why had they sold their home and moved to the inn? Didn’t Mom know how much Mattie resented her? Why would she put herself through that?
Al opened the back door of her car and lifted a sleepy little girl out. He carried her inside and upstairs to her bedroom. Jenna followed and put Katie to bed. One deep sigh, and she was asleep.
Katie was crazy about Al’s mother. The only grandmother she had was Louise Baxter, and Louise wasn’t a warm woman. She was too busy talking to pay attention to a kid, and Katie was afraid of Bruce and his smelly cigar.
Aunt Mattie could have taken a grandmotherly role, but she was too busy being hateful. It would seem at her age, she’d be paying attention to the hereafter and putting her affairs in order, but she acted like she was never going to die.
Al excused himself to go to work, and Jenna trudged back up to the attic. She had more boxes to go through, and with Aunt Mattie gone, she had the freedom to get it done.
The first box held bills, credit card statements, and bank statements from the year her parents died. They’d used their credit cards often, but they paid off the balance every month. According to the bank statements, they deposited nearly ten thousand a month into their checking account every month, and this was seventeen years ago. Their joint savings account had a balance of over a hundred thousand the month before they died. She wondered if that included the equity from the house they’d just sold or if they’d already given Uncle Charlie that money for the inn.
The next box held the 401K and other investment information. It was a substantial amount of money, enough to put her through college in style and get a good start in life. They also had an investment account with a brokerage house in Silverdale. How could her parents have that much money when six years later, Jenna had to struggle to get through college?
If she’d had that money, she could have bought the inn from Aunt Mattie herself, and she could have hired people to put on a new roof and fence the hillside and put in a new driveway and paint. She could redecorate the entire place and open it for business again, so she wouldn’t have to work for a boorish ass like her last boss.
But Alessandro Donatelli owned the inn now, and all that money was gone.
If Mattie knew where the money was, she would have paid the taxes and kept possession of the inn. That meant Charlie did something with it. Uncle Charlie was the last person Jenna would have suspected of stealing her inheritance, yet she was beginning to think he had.
Or maybe he hid it from Mattie.
<>
Al turned off his computer and stretched. It was nearly two in the morning, but creativity couldn’t tell time, and he liked to work while the vision of a plan was
He was worth the risk.
<>
Mattie settled in for her first night at the nursing home, cursing Jenna under her breath. The bed was awful, and so were the pillows. They’d put her in a private room, but it was a dinky little hole and there was no shower or bathtub in the bathroom. The closet wouldn’t hold much of anything, and there were only two tiny little drawers to put her things in. They’d made her wear a hospital gown to sleep in, and the place was noisy, with the woman across the hall crying for someone to come and help her. An aide would go in and as soon as she came out, the woman would start crying again.
She’d go insane if she had to stay in this godawful place.
<>
Jenna followed Al back to the inn. She parked in front and stared at the moss-streaked siding. Why had her mother become involved with Uncle Charlie in the first place? Did Dad know that Charlie was his wife’s lover? Why didn’t Mom and Dad have other kids? Why had they sold their home and moved to the inn? Didn’t Mom know how much Mattie resented her? Why would she put herself through that?
Al opened the back door of her car and lifted a sleepy little girl out. He carried her inside and upstairs to her bedroom. Jenna followed and put Katie to bed. One deep sigh, and she was asleep.
Katie was crazy about Al’s mother. The only grandmother she had was Louise Baxter, and Louise wasn’t a warm woman. She was too busy talking to pay attention to a kid, and Katie was afraid of Bruce and his smelly cigar.
Aunt Mattie could have taken a grandmotherly role, but she was too busy being hateful. It would seem at her age, she’d be paying attention to the hereafter and putting her affairs in order, but she acted like she was never going to die.
Al excused himself to go to work, and Jenna trudged back up to the attic. She had more boxes to go through, and with Aunt Mattie gone, she had the freedom to get it done.
The first box held bills, credit card statements, and bank statements from the year her parents died. They’d used their credit cards often, but they paid off the balance every month. According to the bank statements, they deposited nearly ten thousand a month into their checking account every month, and this was seventeen years ago. Their joint savings account had a balance of over a hundred thousand the month before they died. She wondered if that included the equity from the house they’d just sold or if they’d already given Uncle Charlie that money for the inn.
The next box held the 401K and other investment information. It was a substantial amount of money, enough to put her through college in style and get a good start in life. They also had an investment account with a brokerage house in Silverdale. How could her parents have that much money when six years later, Jenna had to struggle to get through college?
If she’d had that money, she could have bought the inn from Aunt Mattie herself, and she could have hired people to put on a new roof and fence the hillside and put in a new driveway and paint. She could redecorate the entire place and open it for business again, so she wouldn’t have to work for a boorish ass like her last boss.
But Alessandro Donatelli owned the inn now, and all that money was gone.
If Mattie knew where the money was, she would have paid the taxes and kept possession of the inn. That meant Charlie did something with it. Uncle Charlie was the last person Jenna would have suspected of stealing her inheritance, yet she was beginning to think he had.
Or maybe he hid it from Mattie.
<>
Al turned off his computer and stretched. It was nearly two in the morning, but creativity couldn’t tell time, and he liked to work while the vision of a plan was
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