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“It does raise questions.” But Trey’s admission was a grudging one. “It still doesn’t change the fact that the check was drawn on Chase’s personal account. He doesn’t have to answer to me—or anyone else—about how he chooses to spend his money.”
Unable to argue with that, Sloan said, “I’m just thinking about the stories you hear of the elderly being targeted by scam artists.”
“You think Rogers is a scam artist?” Trey seemed more amused by the possibility than suspicious.
“We don’t really know anything except what we’ve been told—either by Chase or Wade himself. I think we should check into his background. Make sure he is who he claims to be.”
Trey dismissed the suggestion with a negative shake of his head. “Old and occasionally forgetful, Gramps might be, but he’s still sharp enough to see through any confidence trick.” He closed the checkbook with a decisive firmness. “Right now we’re going to put this away and forget we ever saw that stub.”
Sloan looked at him aghast. “How can we?”
He returned the checkbook to its drawer, then lightly gripped her shoulders and squared her around to face him. “When I first saw you in here, I was more than a little angry that you’d been snooping. Then I realized you did it out of genuine concern. That makes me proud you care that much. It’s one more thing I love about you.”
As pleased as Sloan was to know that he understood her motives, she knew when she was being manipulated. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
“I almost succeeded.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I know, come Monday morning, you’re going to be tempted to call one of your lawyers and have them run a background check on Rogers. I want you to give me your word that you won’t do that. At least, not yet.”
“But, Trey—” she began in protest.
“There could be a very legitimate reason for a check this size,” he reasoned. “For now, I just want to watch and wait. Agree?”
Sloan hesitated, then realized much of his reluctance stemmed from his refusal to believe that age had in any way diminished his grandfather’s abilities. His whole life he had looked up to Chase. Trey couldn’t bring himself to think that he might have become any less of a man—and definitely without more evidence.
“I agree,” Sloan promised. “I won’t do or say anything unless something else happens.”
“It won’t.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and gathered her to his side. “Let’s go upstairs and check on that son of ours.”
Chapter 11
After Marsha Kelly cleared away their dinner plates, Wade glanced across the table at Cat. “You were right. The steak was delicious.”
“So was mine, though there was more of it than I could eat.”
“Blame it on the nachos,” he told her, then glanced toward the small dance floor near the bar area where a couple was doing a spirited two step. They ended the song with a flourish.
“They were good,” Wade observed, and added ruefully, “I don’t think I could do it that well.”
Cat laughed softly. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just follow the music.”
He chuckled. “And you follow me?”
“Something like that.”
He got up and extended a hand to her. “Then may I have this dance?”
“Yes.” She rose from her chair, feeling as giddy as if she’d been drinking champagne and not a plain old Coke.
Wade warmly clasped the hand she placed in his, leading her to the dance floor without another word. There were three couples on it now, moving through the last steps of a cowboy waltz. The jukebox, a vintage machine with actual records, made faint mechanical noises as the song that was playing ended and another began.
“Uh-oh.” He laughed. “Is that swing or polka?”
“I’m not sure. We can improvise.” She didn’t care what the music was. Being in his arms felt wonderful. “I think a polka is a half skip and then a slide,” she murmured. “But whatever you do, keep moving.”
He took a deep breath and clasped her waist, lifting her hand high with his as he whirled her across the floor. She was breathless with the rush of moving to the exhilarating melody, laughing as she looked up at him.
Wade grinned, concentrating on leading her and not crashing into anyone else. From what she could see, none of the other couples seemed exactly expert either but they were doing their best. A few yips and hollers punctuated the music as the tune ended.
One couple left the floor for their table and the lights dimmed a bit as the next record came on. Mercifully slow, the first notes of a romantic song drifted out.
