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“Damn, that sounds nice. You can go anytime?”
I shook my head as I skimmed the letter but then read it over again, trying to soak in every detail. “It’s next weekend.”
Jenson took the letter from me and read it over himself. “Are you gonna go? I mean, it’s not like you have anything else to do…sorry. Didn’t mean it that way.”
He was an ass sometimes, but he was my best friend. Plus, I was far from perfect. I had to admit that the last few months, while everyone else was excited for me, I’d plunged deep into introspection, which wasn’t a good place to be.
“I think so. I’m gonna talk to Dad about it.”
Chapter Three
Locke
The more I thought about the invitation, the more I thought it was a scam. I’d seen mail from time-shares and various other such things that came on pretty nice paper. But the handwritten note? They sometimes used a font to look as if it were personalized, but never real ink, and this was for sure that. As my fortunes grew, so did the number of people who hoped to get me to invest some of it in their projects, and usually I just tossed them in the trash. Heck, I had an assistant partially so I would never even see them. His job was to shred and send to the composter on the roof.
But he’d given me this one.
Sorting correspondence being his job, he had quite an ability to recognize junk when he saw it as well as finding the rare piece of actually relevant snail mail. So, while my hand holding the invitation back in its envelope hovered over the waste basket, I hesitated.
Then I tapped the button on the side of my desk. “Davey, can you step in here for a moment?” An intercom might seem old-fashioned, but it was a security measure. Should someone make it past the lobby guard, the receptionist, and my assistant, I might not be able to use my cell phone or even the land line on the small table by the window, but it took a fraction of a second to tap the button and, if I didn’t speak after doing so, it would alert Davey of danger.
But I kind of liked the old-office feel of using it, so more often than not, I used the intercom to summon Davey. It was also faster.
“Right away, sir.” I had asked him to call me Locke on more than one occasion, but except for rare occasions, such as our annual picnic, he preferred the more formal address. Sir or Mr. Locke. He opened the door and stepped inside. “Should I close it?”
“Yes.” I waved to the chair in front of my desk. “Have a seat.”
“All right.” He settled himself, straight backed as always. I had a private theory that he’d been either a butler or a gentleman’s gentleman in a previous life because no shifter in his twenties had it in him to be this formal. “What can I do for you?”
I pushed the envelope across the shiny wood surface. “Read this over, please, and give me your thoughts.”
He reached for it and frowned. “Is it a security issue?” Fingerprints, of course, he always thought of everything. “I thought…”
“No, I just want your input before I decide whether to respond.” Leaning back, I watched him run his finger over the seal before pulling out the invitation and opening it. “Do you recognize the seal?”
“Yes, that’s why I gave it to you.” He didn’t say more. Never one for chitchat.
“Perhaps you can expand on that?”
A rare grin quirked the corner of his mouth. “The Bearclaw is a very nice place, or so I hear, and the only way anyone can stay there is by invitation.”
“Is it usually comped?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I believe so. It’s a very special thing to be invited. I envy you, sir.”
“How does this Franklin stay in business if he doesn’t charge anyone?”
“No one seems to have that information, either. Presumably he’s well fixed and likes to have guests he handpicks.”
“Not very logical though, hmm?” I considered a moment, not really expecting a reply. “Is he selling something? Shares in the place maybe? Some sort of business opportunity?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” He read the invitation again. “Definitely envious.”
Since he’d never expressed the least bit of jealousy about anything I had, this really aroused my curiosity. “And why is that?”
His lips moved then stopped before he replied. “You will have a very nice time there. A friend of mine went a few years ago and reported that the inn is nicely appointed, the breakfasts are delightful, and it is set in an area with a lot of beautiful countryside and small pleasant shops to explore.”
I gaped at him. “Do I make it a habit to explore countryside or ‘pleasant shops’?”
