Chapter 10 Cindy
Cindy paused in the doorway of what used to be her office, taking in the subtle changes since it had become Jack’s workspace.
The soft plaid curtains she’d hung back when it was her domain were still there, but the desk had migrated closer to the window, and a few framed skiing photos—actual Olympic shots—had replaced her collection of color-coded calendars.
“You look busy,” she said, leaning on the doorframe.
Jack didn’t look up right away. He was focused, tapping something into his computer, glasses perched on his nose. Somehow, Jack had become a sixty-something man, but she could still see that young skier she’d fallen hard for thirty years ago.
Finally, he hit a key, leaned back, and smiled. “I was. Then my favorite distraction showed up.”
Cindy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Smooth.”
He stretched, arms overhead, his bones letting out a soft creak that probably started back in those Olympic days. “You caught me at the perfect time. Just finished the morning reports from the sleigh rides.”
“More today?”
“I’m actually free until four o’clock. Want to play hooky?” He made a face. “Do they still call it that?”
“The over-sixty set does,” she joked, sliding into the chair across from him. “Tell me about this hooky idea of yours.”
Jack closed his laptop and gave her his full attention. “You. Me. Town. Lunch. Oh, and I have a special errand to run and…yeah. I was going to surprise you, but you can come with me.”
“Surprise?” Her brows lifted. “I like the sound of that. Gracie was going to drop off a wedding tasting order, Nicole was trying to fix the twinkle lights in the Starling Room, and MJ…” She angled her head and sighed. “Honey, I’m worried about MJ.”
“Why?” He leaned forward, concern in his dark eyes.
“She’s been quiet and down, so unlike her. She hasn’t heard a word from Matt since he left.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “He said a year in that famous letter that should probably have been a secret but we all read.”
Cindy smiled. “She might have framed it and hung it in her new apartment up on the third floor.” And that smile faded.
“Which is why I’m concerned about her. Technically, that year is up on New Year’s Eve, but…
” She hesitated, glancing at the snow-dusted pines outside the window.
“I honestly thought he’d be back by now.
I even considered sending him an invitation to our wedding. ”
He raised a brow. “Would that have been wrong?”
“I don’t know.” She twisted her engagement ring absently. “MJ’s so hopeful, but what if he’s not coming back? I don’t want her heart broken all over again.”
Jack’s expression softened. “Maybe he’s just…taking longer than planned.”
“Maybe.” Cindy frowned. “I was thinking about calling that lawyer who handled everything—the trust, the checks, all that paperwork. You remember him?”
“Richard Lowe.”
“Yes. Maybe he’s heard something. Maybe Matt’s been in touch with him. Would that be out of line for me to do?”
“No.” Jack pressed his hands on the old mahogany desk. “I have an idea and, sorry, but it’s actually genius.”
She chuckled at that. “Talk to me, genius.”
“Let’s drive into town and see Richard face to face, maybe get a real sense of what he knows about Matt’s whereabouts. Then we run my secret errand and grab lunch at Kaneo.”
“You had me at secret errand, but then Kaneo? Yes, please.”
She’d barely finished and he was up and around the desk, eager to go. “I love a day off with my girl.”
As he pulled her up from the seat, she laughed and leaned into his hug. “And I love being your girl.”
Not an hour later, they were strolling down Main Street, bathed in bright Utah mountain sunshine.
The air carried a crisp brightness that brought Park City alive, dressed in red bows tied to lampposts, evergreen garlands winding up porch railings, and storefront windows painted with swirling snowflakes.
Cindy loved this part of town—the historic mining-era buildings stacked along the hills, the mix of old and new everywhere.
Holding hands, they paused outside a modest brick building with a brass plaque that read Lowe & Jacobs, Attorneys at Law. She and MJ had come here a few times early in the year, still dumbstruck from the gift they’d received from plumber-turned-millionaire lottery winner Graham Matthew Walker.
Richard Lowe had patiently walked them through accessing the funds that Matt had carefully protected for them. With that job in the past, would he know anything about his mysterious client’s whereabouts or plans?
She sure hoped so.
Inside, a young receptionist with bright red lipstick looked up and smiled. “Hi, there! Can I help you?”
Jack stepped forward. “We’re here to see Richard Lowe but we don’t have an appointment. This is—”
“Cindy Kessler,” the woman finished.
“Oh, you remember me?”
“And your sister, MJ,” she said, adding a wink and leaning in to whisper, “We don’t get cases like yours very often.”
Cindy imagined that was true.
“Let me get Rich,” the woman said, slipping out from behind her desk.
They waited on a leather sofa until a door opened, and Richard Lowe appeared—a man in his late fifties with kind eyes, a trim beard, and the exact same conservative tie he’d worn the day she met him.
“Hello, Cindy,” he said warmly, shaking her hand first, then turning to Jack. “And we have met. Jack Kessler, right?”
He returned Richard’s warm handshake. “Yes, sir. Hope we’re not barging into your billable hours.”
The other man laughed and waved them into the offices. “It’s fine and always good to see you. Would either of you like coffee or water?”
“No, we’re good,” Cindy said, following him down a wide hallway that smelled faintly of lemon and hummed with busy people behind open doors. “We really just wanted five minutes of your time today.”
“Whatever you need.” He led them into his office, which was comfortably cluttered with paperwork and books, with a window that looked out at Main Street like a postcard view.
“So,” Richard said, gesturing for them to sit on two chairs in front of his desk while he took the large leather seat behind it. “How’s the renovation at Snowberry? Have you finished the Starling Room?”
“We have,” Cindy said. “And it’s beautiful.”
“We’re getting married there in less than two weeks.” Jack took her hand. “We’re going to have the inaugural event in that room.”
“Wow, congratulations! But…” He lifted a brow. “I guess I thought you were already married. Same name and all.”
“We were,” Cindy said.
“It’s our second time around,” Jack added, making the other man break into a huge smile. Cindy had long ago noticed that, universally, people loved a second-chance romance.
“Well, that’s terrific. So happy for you.”
They thanked him and, still holding Jack’s hand, Cindy leaned forward. “We’d actually love to invite Matt Walker, so…we were wondering if you’d heard from him lately.”
He folded his hands, a frown folding. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard from him since last…
spring, was it? April or May. I can look up the client log.
” He turned to his computer and tapped some keys to bring the monitor to life.
“The trust paperwork was finalized, the funds dispersed, but I did check in with him…yes, it was May tenth and he was in…” He drew back.
“My notes say he wanted to touch back to be certain that all the funds he’d given you were managed properly and the trust assured that you paid no taxes on the gift. ”
So he was still thinking about MJ and Snowberry Lodge—that was encouraging. “Does he still have the same mailing address?” Cindy asked.
“A post office box, yes. And an email, though I can’t promise he checks it often. Would you like me to give it to you?”
“Yes, please.”
He scribbled the information on a notepad and tore off the page, sliding it across the desk. As she took the paper, she sighed heavily enough for Richard to give a sympathetic smile.
“I certainly sensed Matt was a man of his word,” the attorney said. “And if something happened to him, I would likely get some kind of notification.”
“So we shouldn’t worry, right?” Jack asked, squeezing her hand. “He did say he’d be back in a year.”
“I really can’t speak for him. I put him in touch with an accounting firm in Florida because he wanted to start the process of turning his winnings into a foundation to help others.
” He gave another smile. “I don’t imagine someone who wants to share that much money with other people is a person you’d need to doubt. ”
“I agree,” Cindy said, folding the paper and sliding it into her purse. “Thank you, Richard.”
“I wish I had more to offer,” he said. “But if I do hear something, I’ll reach out right away.”
“Thank you,” she said again, standing. “And Merry Christmas, Richard.”
“And to you both,” he said warmly. “Give my best to MJ.”
They said goodbye and headed back to the street, both quiet as they digested the lack of new information.
Outside, the light hit just right—sharp and golden against the mountain backdrop. Cindy tucked her hands in her coat pockets and looked down Main Street, where a group of carolers were warming up in the park and a few kids were running around in the snow.
It was festive and fun, but her heart was heavy. As if he sensed that, Jack put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We tried.”
“I just hate the thought of MJ waiting for something that might not come.”
“She’s tougher than she looks,” he said gently. “But I know what you mean.”
They walked a few steps in silence, passing the art galleries and boutiques decked in fairy lights.
Finally, Cindy exhaled, shaking off the heaviness. “All right, Mr. Secret Errand Man. What’s next?”
Jack’s grin returned. “This is the fun part!”
“Everything is with you.”
He laughed, liking that. “This one is special, though. Come on.”