“I did. Those carriages are older than you, boy.”
“I could tell,” Matthew said. “I used to love looking at the collection of old carriages at Maymont.”
“I’ve seen them.” In nodding, his whole body rocked forward. “The mansion and gardens. It was a beautiful estate. I knew people there. Special place.”
“This is a special place too. Whitney talks about how much her time with you on your farm has meant to her.”
“She’s like a daughter to me. If I’d been blessed with one.” He pointed a crooked finger at Whitney. “That’s my girl.”
Whitney held back a tear.
“You take care of my girl.” His hand shook. “I… I… was an attorney too. A long time ago,” Uncle Blake said.
“He handled some huge cases for the firm,” she bragged. “He was also one of the few who did pro bono cases, which used to really tick off the big guys.”
“Pffttt.” Uncle Blake threw his hand up. “Good for nothing, money hungry men is all they were. Some things are more important than money. Family, for one. Fighting for what’s right, and that’s not always popular.”
“Yes, sir.” Matthew liked Uncle Blake’s way of thinking.
Something flashed in Uncle Blake’s gaze. He sat there, his mouth hanging as he fought for the right words. Finally he looked him square in the eye. “Was your father the architect at Maymont?”
Whitney and Matthew looked at one another. She shrugged, not knowing how he’d known.
“He was.”
“I recognize you. You look like… just… like your father.” He let out a breath. “I wrote up your patent papers. You’re the McMahon boy.”
Matthew dropped to a squat. “Yes, sir. I am. You were the attorney we worked with? I was only nineteen. You did all the paperwork right at our kitchen table because dad couldn’t get around.”
“That was me. Your father was very proud of you.” Uncle Blake pressed his hands on the arms of his wheelchair. “Had no idea how awful it was to not be able to get up and move around back then.”
Matthew touched Blake’s arm. “Yes sir. It’s a tough road. Thank you, sir. Your work on that patent helped me save others from accidents like my father experienced.”
“I just pushed paper around and helped your dad connect some dots.” Uncle Blake leaned forward, then groaned as he leaned closer to Whitney. “He patented a design for a safer scaffolding system after his father’s accident. Did he tell you that?” Uncle Blake reached for a cup of water next to him.
“No. I don’t think so. I haven’t heard about this,” she said, while helping him steady his cup so he could take a sip. She looked over at Matthew and shrugged.
“See. Good man. Not a bragger.” And then Uncle Blake dropped out again.
“What is he talking about?” Whitney asked. “Did he really help you with a patent?”
“He did. Most important work I will have ever done in this lifetime.” Matthew stood. “I’m going to go get something from my truck.”
“Okay.” Whitney watched him leave.
When Matthew walked back into the room Uncle Blake was awake again.
“Wondered where you disappeared to,” he said.
“Sir. I’d really be honored if you’d accept this as a gift.” He turned the painting around.
“That looks like Goldy!” Uncle Blake turned and looked to Whitney for confirmation.
“I thought the same thing when I saw that painting in the gallery,” she said.
“I actually planned to give this to you, Whitney, but I think it would be perfect here over the mantel. What do you think, Blake?” Matthew carried it over and sat it on the mantel.
“I’d enjoy that very much. Whitney can have it when I’m gone.”
