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He sweeps his eyes over me once. “It’s good to have you back.”
“In general or…tonight?” I don’t know why I ask. I don’t know why I need to know.
He shrugs as if it makes no difference. “Both.”
21
It’s the little things I’m thankful for in this small town. The reliability of good coffee, fresh chocolate croissants and the fact that my overworked brother decided to work from his tiny office down the street today rather than at the Inn, tucked away in a corner table behind his laptop.
I can’t have Noah here when I talk to Dad.
Okay, maybe probe for information is more like it.
“Got a minute?” I ask. It’s early enough that most of the guests haven’t come down for breakfast yet, and I’m not overly concerned about the elderly couple by the window in the far corner.
“A few. Training Tessa while it’s quiet. She’s been here three days and trying to change up the menu.”
“It is a little outdated,” I argue.
He glares at me. “Did you need something?”
My jaw works as I struggle with the words I hope don’t set off alarms.
Dad’s expression shifts to caution. He’s trained to sense a threat coming.
“What do you remember about Robert Woods?”
His expression softens. “Same thing everyone remembers. He’s a fraud and a thief.”
“That’s what you remember?”
A sigh. “No. I remember a family man. A successful businessman. And a judge that was too quick to sentence.”
“You think he was innocent?”
He watches me. “Why are you asking? Is it Pepper? Is she digging into her parents?”
“No.” It’s not exactly a lie. “I am.”
“Why?”
My instinct is to tell him it’s none of his business. To just answer the question. It’s quickly followed with the urge to tell him what Pepper told me. That the two people in that car found burnt and dead—were not her parents.
“She’s done a lot for us—with Elliot and his place…his things. I want to do something for her.”
Again, not entirely a lie.
Dad sighs. “I think there were others involved.”
My ears perk. “In the fraud?”
“Yeah. And Pepper’s Dad never gave any names. Not even in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
“How do you know this?”
“We talked. He wasn’t afraid of going to prison. He was afraid of what would happen after—people didn’t trust him to not cave under pressure while in lock up.”
“He was afraid…something might happen to him there?”
