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“None of us are in any danger here. It’s the people in Asheville who need to be warned.” Clive recalled the words of Winston Churchill when he was referring to Russia. “It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.” But he was determined to sort it out, and as quickly as possible.
“Can’t you call the police?” Colette asked innocently.
“Yes, but there isn’t much I could tell them. ‘I think a desperate woman is going to Asheville to harass some people’? I seriously doubt that would get their attention. No, warning these Bodman people is the best course of action right now. You sit tight. I should be back within the hour. I know I can get cell service once I get past the dead-zone hill.”
“So what are you going to do? Call the Bodmans and tell them what?”
“I’m going to explain who I am and tell them to be on the lookout for Arthur or Rowena Millstone. I will advise him not to engage in any conversation or transactions until he and I have the opportunity for a person-to-person discussion.”
“That sounds reasonable enough.” Logan still had his arm around Colette’s shoulder, and he had to admit that it felt good, even though he could feel her trembling. He walked her over to the sectional and wrapped a fleece throw around her. He looked over his shoulder. “Good luck, Pop.”
As soon as Clive left, Colette began to sob. It had all been too much. She couldn’t hold it together any longer. Logan poured her another port, grabbed a box of tissues, sat down, put his arm around her, and let her get it all out.
She started to hiccup. And then she started to laugh. “Oh my. This is so embarrassing.” She blew her nose with gusto. “I am so sorry.” Another snort and blow. She wiped her face with several tissues.
“No need to apologize. It’s been a roller-coaster couple of months for you. Between losing Randolph, your job, having to move, and trying to find Dad, you’ve been on a rocky ride.” He took another tissue and wiped her tears.
“You and your father have been so kind to us.” She sniffled again.
Logan took the balled-up tissues from her hand and gave her a few fresh ones. The waterworks seemed to be subsiding. “I’ll go check on Max. You relax.” He took the glass of port that had been sitting on the coffee table and handed it to her.
Colette watched Logan leave the room and ascend the open staircase. Nowthatwas the type of man she had been dreaming about. Kind, considerate, and competent. And good-looking, too.
Logan peeked in on Max, making sure he didn’t wake the lad. He was sound asleep, clutching the stuffed bear that lived in the guest room. It had been Logan’s as a child. Max must have spotted it and decided to make friends. Logan smiled. He remembered how much comfort he had gotten from that bear when he was Max’s age. No matter how safe you feel, there’s always that threat of the bogeyman. Logan knew it would be years before Max realized that the real bogeymen are grown-ups behaving badly. Not some spooky creature hiding under the bed.
He went back to where Colette was sitting, unsure how close he should get. He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how much comforting she required. He had to admit, it felt warm and peaceful having his arm around her. Then Colette made it easy for him. “Please. Come sit next to me.” She was wrapped up in the blanket with only her hand poking out, holding the port. Logan smiled. He tucked in the loose parts of the blanket, making a cocoon for Colette.
“How’s that?”
She sighed, tilted her head, and leaned back on the sofa. “Wonderful.”
Logan took the glass from her hand and sat next to her. She moved her head from the back of the sectional and placed it on his shoulder. She was asleep in a matter of minutes.
* * *
It was past midnight when Clive finally made it around the big bend of the lake. His phone lit up with several bars indicating he was within reach of a cell tower. He pulled to the side of the road and dialed Bodman-Antiques-Retro-Restoration & Namaste Café. He checked the name quizzically.Namaste Café?That was a new one on him. It rang three times and got an outbound message. It was a man’s voice. “You have reached the BARRN-Bodman-Antiques-Retro-Restoration & Namaste Café. Please leave us a message and someone will get in touch with you as soon as possible.” Then a woman’s voice finished with a lilting “Namaste.”
Clive was brief. “This is Clive Dunbar, attorney for the Millstone estate. Could you kindly return my call at your earliest convenience? The matter is urgent. Thank you.” He left both phone numbers, his cell and landline. Just to be on the safe side, he forwarded his cell phone to his landline. If Bodman tried the cell, he might not get the call, but he wanted Bodman to have both numbers regardless.
When Clive returned, he found Logan and Colette on the sectional. Colette was propped up against Logan as he was reading a book.
Clive whispered, “Everything OK?”
Logan gave him a thumbs-up.
“Max?”
Another thumbs-up. Clive retreated to his den to work on the Millstone estate. He knew there was a lot to be done, including deciphering the spiral-bound notebook, although he was relatively sure what the numbers represented. His task was to match it up with the other Millstone ledgers. That could take some serious forensic accounting.
Chapter Twenty-one
Boston, Massachusetts
Millstone Manor
Rowena returned to Arthur’s den wrapped in a Neiman Marcus cashmere robe. Her hair was wrapped in a matching turban. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Did he call back?”
“Yes, as soon as you went upstairs. Here’s the information.” Arthur slid the paper across the cocktail table. He still looked disheveled.
