Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
FORD
Ispent the rest of the day going through the boxes of my father’s files that I’d pulled aside well over a year before, when I’d first come up with my plan to find a chink in his armor. So far, I was still batting zero.
Paige took a break while Stella was napping to come up and help me, relaying that all was well with Hope and that she was going to meet with Miss Martha the next time she came over.
That settled, together we sat in ancient, threadbare armchairs, sorting through paperwork.
I grabbed anything that looked like it related to business.
Paige took things that looked like they had to do with the house.
She found a few more invoices from the garage renovation I didn’t remember from the early eighties, mixed in with other things, and a few invoices for artwork that had sold at auction in the years before my father’s death.
At this point, we’d accounted for over half of the missing art.
When Scarlett, Tenn’s wife, had first come to Heartstone Manor, she’d tracked down some of the pieces.
Formerly an art history professor and appraiser, she had more expertise than anyone else.
Piece by piece, we were finding out where the family art had gone, but no one had tracked down what Prentice had done with the money from the sales.
I suspected he’d used a chunk of it to pay off Vanessa, who we’d learned had been blackmailing him after she’d discovered that the woman he’d planned to make the new Mrs. Sawyer was Cole’s wife.
We had no clue what Vanessa did with the money, considering she’d been broke when she died.
Though the way Vanessa could spend, it was possible she’d blown it all on luxurious vacations, jewelry, and clothes.
I knew from experience, nobody could run through cash like Vanessa.
Even after a few hours, Paige and I didn’t find anything truly interesting in the files.
No love letters from Paul to Sarah. Nothing of my mother’s at all.
Since I’d found the envelope with my mother’s letters in Paige’s room, I’d considered abandoning the search for my father’s killer in favor of finding whatever she might have left behind in this house.
I wanted my name cleared. I wanted my father’s killer to face justice.
But as I looked at Paige, her brow furrowed, a dark curl escaping her bun as she studied the open file in front of her, I wondered if any of that was really worth it.
My father was dead, and very few people had any regret about that.
I wished he’d been a better father, a better man, a better husband, but I didn’t wish him back at the head of the dining room table in Heartstone Manor.
Maybe that made me an asshole, but I could live with that.
I wanted Stella to grow up in a house filled with love—something that would be impossible if Prentice was still alive.
And Tenn had Scarlett’s kids—his, now that they were married.
Their father was mostly out of the picture, from what I could tell, and Tenn loved those kids like they were his own.
The same went for Finn with Savannah’s Nicky.
My heart lightened as I thought about those children growing up in the Manor as it was now, filled with family and love.
No, I wouldn’t bring my father back if I could. I didn’t want the future he’d seen for us. I wanted this, what we were building here, all of us together.
I looked at Paige again, wondering. She was so natural with the kids.
She’d be such a great mom. I had no idea what went into being a good father, but so far, Griffen, Tenn, and Finn were great examples.
I hadn’t thought much about having kids until I’d gotten out of prison and come home to a house full of them.
It was the laughter that got me. I didn’t love the mess they left behind, or the noise when they were shouting back and forth to each other in the house.
But I craved the laughter. I wanted it for myself.
I wanted to kick a soccer ball. Throw a baseball.
Take a kid fishing or camping, like I’d loved to when I was young.
I could still remember the years when my stepmother Darcy was alive.
She’d brought love to this house, shining so bright she banished my father’s shadow for the short years she was with us, until she died.
But in that time, I’d forged my best childhood memories, rambling in the woods with Griffen, trying to ditch the younger kids so we could dam up a stream and see what happened, or build a fort out of branches and moss.
Paige and I hadn’t been together long enough to think about forever, or kids, or any of it. I knew that. I wasn’t rushing into anything. But I caught the curve of her cheek as she smiled at something in her hands, and I wanted more than her body. I wanted her.
“What are you smiling about?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just—I found another receipt for artwork your father must have sold, and it’s so god-awful ugly.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a picture.” She showed me a pudgy marble satyr surrounded by fruit, its rounded belly and cheeks offset by a pug nose and squinty eyes.
“That is ugly,” I agreed, studying the receipt. “He didn’t get much for it. I wonder why he bought it in the first place.” I put it aside with the other invoices from auction houses.
“I’m starting to feel like this is a wild goose chase,” she said, echoing my earlier thoughts.
“Me too.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. We didn’t need paperwork. We needed people. I scrolled through my contacts, looking for the one I wanted, and hit the button to call.
Miss Martha answered on the second ring.
“Ford Sawyer, what are you doing calling me? Did you get yourself into trouble again?” The smile in her voice was evident, and I was grateful. Through everything, she’d always believed in me.
“Not yet, Miss Martha. I was wondering if you were busy. I have a few questions I want to ask you. Things you might remember about—” I didn’t want to get into it on the phone. “Stuff from when I was a kid,” I finished.
“I remember a lot, Ford,” she said easily. “And I’m not busy right now, but I’ll do you one better. I’ll be there for dinner tonight. I just spoke to Savannah and it’s all arranged.”
“That makes things easy,” I said.
Miss Martha was enjoying a well-deserved retirement, but she was around often enough since Savannah had taken over her position as housekeeper. Miss Martha wasn’t just close to her daughter; she loved her grandson to pieces, and he loved her back just as much.
“I’m moving in for a bit, actually,” she said.
“Why?” I asked in alarm. Visions of Miss Martha being sick flashed through my head. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, and she was the closest any of us had left to a mother.
“Hawk and Griffen thought it was best, considering this business with Haywood,” she said.
I let out a sigh of relief, feeling it flash through me. “Sorry about that. I know you love your cottage in town,” I said. Griffen had offered her a place in the Manor for her retirement, but she’d said she was enjoying the alone time.
“I do, I do, but this makes sense. I don’t want y’all to waste your time and worry on me, and it gives me an excuse to spend a little extra time with Nicky and Savannah, and the rest of you. If things get bad, you’ll have to keep April and Kitty away, and Savannah will need a hand with the house.”
Another good point, I realized. “Well then, I guess we’ll see you tonight. Will you have time to talk after dinner?”
“I have all the time in the world for you, Ford.”
“Thanks, Miss Martha,” I said. “See you later.” I hung up and shoved my phone back in my pocket. “Did you catch all that?” I asked Paige. She nodded as the baby monitor sitting beside her squawked with a fretful cry.
“These afternoon naps are getting shorter,” she said, standing. “Little Stella’s turning into a toddler.”
I straightened in surprise. “She was a newborn five minutes ago.”
“I know,” Paige said with a grin. “It goes fast. Now she’s a year old and zooming around on her feet—wait till she really starts climbing.”
“Climbing?” I said, not sure what she was talking about. “She’s a baby, not a monkey.”
“At this age, sometimes there’s not much difference.
I nannied for a kid,” Paige said as she walked to the door, “who could climb like nothing else—couches, bookcases, anything he could get on top of—and then he’d dive right off.
I swear, for the first three years, I thought he was trying to kill himself and give us all heart attacks in the process.
Stella’s not nearly as much trouble.” She paused at the door and smiled at me. “I’ll see you later.”
Before she could go, I was on my feet, crossing the room, and pulling her into my arms for a quick kiss. It lingered until Stella gave another cry through the monitor.
“See you later,” I whispered against the soft skin of her cheek.
I didn’t lay eyes on Paige again until just before dinner. Griffen and Hope had decided we’d all eat in the dining room—kids, Miss Martha, and Paige at the breakfast table at the far end, the rest of us around the long formal table.
We were milling around, waiting for the gong to ring, calling us all to the table, when a knock sounded on the front door. I turned to see Hawk striding that way, anticipation lighting his dark eyes. Quinn followed, her massive guard dog Ginger next to her, her hand on the dog’s head.
Hawk swung the door open, his usually somber face splitting into a wide grin. “Ryder Vale! Good to see you again.”
They leaned in, slinging an arm around each other’s shoulders and patting backs.
“You too, man,” Ryder said.