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“Maybe.”
He opened the door. Johnny and I started down the steps, but before we left, I had one last question.
“You said that Mr. Templeton mentioned me.”
“Yes, he did.”
My insides twisted, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But I asked anyway. “What did he say about me?”
“It was after you invited him to dinner. He said that the fact you had seemingly forgiven him, and that his son was marrying you, suggested to him that Connor was on the right path – but he wanted to talk to you, personally, before making his final decision.”
“Huh,” I said. I was heartened but still glum at the same time. It was amazing there was even a chance Mr. Templeton had felt that way about me; but it sucked that I would never know. “It’s too bad he died without telling you what he thought.”
“Oh, he did,” Mr. Koffitz said.
I frowned. “But you said he only left you a voicemail before he died.”
“That’s correct. And I quote: ‘I met them for dinner. Connor’s on the right path. Prepare the documents, I’ll be by to sign them tomorrow morning.’”
I stood there in shock, and my eyes started to mist up.
Connor’s on the right path.
Mr. Templeton had thought enough of me that he had been willing to leave his entire empire to his estranged son.
“Go on,” Koffitz said, shooing us away. “Good luck to you both, but don’t come back here again unless you bring the Army, the Marines, and the CIA to guard me.”
Then he closed the door.
I saw the curtains move the tiniest bit as we drove down the gravel road, back towards Manhattan.
