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I wait for him to join me on the other side of the truck then walk with him to the picnic table. "You were a cute kid, Clover. I always thought your parents were odd for naming all you girls after flowers, but the name fit you."
I don't ask what he means. I like this old man for his obvious love for Asher, and my throat is tight with unshed tears about what my father and I did to him.
"Most people don't notice clover," he goes on as though I did ask. "It's just greenery mixed in with the grass, hardly noticeable unless you're searching for a bit of good luck. But just when you've counted clover out, it pops out the prettiest little flowers, pink and purple balls, just beautifying up the yard." He laughs. "That was you. I hardly noticed you when your daddy brought you with him to talk to us about the adventure park, but then he asked you to speak about it and your excitement lit up that whole room."
My eyes burn as I take a seat at the picnic table. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Winfield." I swipe at the tears on my cheek as Mr. Winfield steps over the bench on the other side and settles in.
He watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You were just a little girl. It's what you do now that matters."
I stare at him. "My age doesn't excuse what I did."
"Did you know that's what your daddy was doing when he brought you to my house?"
"No. But that doesn't absolve me. My father isn't here to make things right, so it's up to me."
He taps his fingers on the table, glaring like he's daring me to say the wrong thing. "And how are you proposing to make it right?"
"My father took fifteen thousand dollars from you fourteen years ago. With interest added, I owe you fifty-six thousand dollars. I have that money now and I'm going to give it to you to make up for all we took."
Mr. Winfield's eyes go wide and he leans back like my words are a strong wind. He folds his hands together on the picnic table and stares at them for a long moment, before his gaze rises to meet mine. "Where did you get this money?"
"It's part of my inheritance from my father. It's from the fortune he built with your money. I'll be getting more in six months and I'm going to pay back every other person in town he conned. Everyone will get back what they put in along with fourteen years of accrued interest."
"And what would you do with the money if you don't give it away?"
I didn't expect that question. "That's not an issue, because in no version of reality will I keep my father's dirty money."
Mr. Winfield shrugs. "Does it matter where money comes from if you do something good with it? I doubt the animals your sisters are helping at their farm care where the money that feeds them comes from. They're just grateful to be alive."
"I'm proud of what my sisters are doing out at the farm, but—"
At the construction site, someone shouts. Mr. Winfield looks over his shoulder and grimaces. "That's my cue, Miss Weston. It's been nice talking to you. We should have a meal together sometime and get to know each other better."
"Um, okay. Sure. That would be nice." It will never happen, but it's nice of him to offer. "Mr. Winfield, wait. What about the money?"
He turns where he stands and shakes his head. "I made a mistake fourteen years ago trusting your father, but taking money away from his daughter isn't going to get me back the land I lost. You use that money to do something good for someone who truly needs it."
He turns and walks away. I stare after him in complete shock. That wasn't how this was supposed to go. He needs that money. Desperately. It makes no sense that he won't just take what he's owed.
I consider running after him and trying to change his mind. He has to take this money. He deserves it and it's the only way I'll ever stop feeling guilty about my part in stealing from him.
I'm halfway across the parking lot after him when another idea occurs to me. A way to get the money to Mr. Winfield that he won't be able to turn down.
I head for my car, already dialing Dad's lawyer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Asher
I've picked up my phone to call or text Clover every ten minutes today, but I've stopped myself every time. It's been two days since I tucked her into bed with a head cold. She's fine. I'm sure she's completely fine.
And I need to avoid her, because if I hear her voice or see her, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from getting down on my knees and offering to let her have the gym.
If it was just about me, I might let Clover have the gym, but it's about a legacy for my family. He and Mom have been through enough and they've lost too much. They continue to refuse to let me give them money to help them find a new place and pay off their old, and the gym is the only good thing I can do for them.
This is about family, and no matter how much I care about Clover, she's not family.
Maybe after the gym is all squared away, Clover will give me another chance. There's room enough in this town for two fitness instructors. Maybe I'll even offer to let her teach classes out of the gym for no charge.
