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They sat in silence for a few minutes. Max was laughing and jumping up and down. Colette couldn’t hear what he and Logan were talking about, but it warmed her heart that Max was having fun. Max had a sensitive soul and was always in tune with his mother. He had been through a lot of upheaval, and it was nice to see him act like a kid. Colette did her absolute best to shield him from any angst and worry, but she knew he had to be bewildered and disoriented. She smiled again. She was proud of her son.
As if he read her mind, Clive said, “You have a fine young man there.”
Colette was taken by Logan’s kindness and patience. “It appears that you also have a fine young man.” She reached over the table and squeezed Dunbar’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough. Ever since Mr. Randolph died, things have been tumultuous, to say the least.”
“I can only imagine. It must have been very disturbing to have Jerry Thompson, or whatever he called himself, show up and interrogate you.” Clive shook his head, wondering what Arthur was up to. Judging from what he could glean from the notebook, it could be any number of desperate things.
Clive looked at the clock. “It’s getting close to lunchtime. Shall we call the boys in?”
Colette chuckled at Clive referring to his son as a boy. Maybe that’s something all parents do no matter what age. When Logan and Max returned to the large porch, Clive announced that Colette and Max would be joining them for two or three days. Max shrieked in delight! “Goody! Now Logan can show me how to moon fish.”
Colette looked at Logan and furrowed her brow. “Moon fishing?”
“We hang a lantern off the dock and see if any fish will come and take the bait. We’re not usually very successful, but it’s something to do.” Logan smiled at her. “Let me get your things.” Colette handed him the keys to her car. “Please move it if it’s in the way.”
“I don’t think we’ll be getting any more visitors.” Logan smiled again and headed out the door.
Max went over to Colette and rested his head on her shoulder. “Mom? I’m liking this adventure.”
“Me too.” She kissed him on the top of his head. She got up from her chair. “All right, Mr. Clive Dunbar. Show me the way around the kitchen, and I’ll see what I can come up with for lunch!”
There was some cold roasted chicken in the refrigerator, along with mustard, mayonnaise, celery, and sweet pickles. “Chicken salad OK with everyone?”
She got a round of approval. “While you’re doing that,” said Clive, “I’m going to make a phone call from the landline in the den. Cell service is rather sketchy up here.” He excused himself while Colette, Logan, and Max worked together in the kitchen. Logan dragged a stool over to the counter where Colette was chopping celery and the chicken. Once she had put everything together in a large bowl, she handed Max a spatula. “Remember how I taught you to mix?”
Max pursed his lips and nodded. “Who is going to hold the bowl?”
Logan jumped in. “I guess that’s my job.” He held the bowl with both hands while Max attempted to mix the ingredients together. Logan noted that the kid wasn’t doing a bad job.
“Bread?” Colette asked.
“In the pantry. Second shelf on the left.”
Colette entered a pantry the size of Max’s bedroom. Everything was meticulously arranged. “White? Rye? Whole grain?” she called out.
Max was the first to reply. “Rye!”
“Make that two!” Logan added.
“What will Clive have?” Colette asked.
“He’s on a gluten-free kick.” Logan chuckled. “Next week it will be keto. He’s always looking for ways to improve himself.”
Colette laughed. “That’s not such a bad thing.” She went back to the refrigerator and pulled out some lettuce to go with the chicken salad. She was struck by how comfortable she had become in just over an hour. But it made sense. She knew that Clive Dunbar was a good, honest man. And she was gratified to have relieved herself of the notebook. It was too bad about the document, presumably a will, that had been in the envelope.
While Colette, Logan, and Max were preparing lunch, Clive dialed Arthur’s cell phone number.
Arthur picked up immediately, wiping the dust off his hands. He and Rowena were taking apart more of the crates. So far, they had come up empty-handed.
“Hello, Clive! Good to hear from you.” Arthur was overly pleasant. “Obsequious” was the word that came to Clive’s mind. It was too bad Arthur was his best friend’s son. Randolph and Arthur couldn’t have been more different. Clive thought how sad it must have been for Randolph. He gave his son everything and every opportunity to make something of himself. But instead of living up to his father’s hopes and expectations, all Arthur ever did was make a mess of things.
“Hello, Arthur. How are things?” Clive asked congenially.
“You tell me, Clive. What’s the latest?” Arthur was chomping at the bit to hear the words that the will was going to be read.
“I’m putting some documents together, and I noticed the inventory from the estate sale isn’t in the file.” Clive waited for Arthur’s reaction.
“Oh?” Arthur kept his temper under control. Another thing to slow down the process. He wanted to choke Rowena. “Didn’t Rowena or Amber send copies over to you?” He shot Rowena a killer glare.
