Griffen went on, “We can start with Miss Martha and Savannah. Hopefully, we can talk one of them into it.”
I wrote Miss Martha/Savannah after #1 on my list.
“Next?”
Griffen muffled his sigh with a fork full of peaches and ice cream. He chewed thoughtfully before answering. “We need to see Harvey tomorrow. There have to be papers to sign. I want to make sure payroll gets cut.”
I wrote that down next. #2. Harvey
“I have to find out what’s going on with Ford.”
#3. Ford
“You don’t think he did it,” I said as I finished writing Ford’s name.
“No way,” came Griffen’s immediate response. “Do you?”
I shook my head. I was with Griffen. No way.
Ford was tough as nails when he wanted to be, but he wasn’t a killer. He was also extremely intelligent. If Ford had decided to kill Prentice, he was way too smart to get caught.
The idea that he would march into Prentice’s office and shoot him in the head then stash the gun in his bedroom closet? No flipping way.
The topic of Ford settled to Griffen’s satisfaction for the moment, he went on with his list. “We have to go to Atlanta, at least overnight. I didn’t bring anything with me, wasn’t planning on staying.”
I nodded, adding #5. Atlanta to the list.
Griffen took another bite of pie as he read the list upside down. Swallowing, he said, “What happened to number four?”
“Number four is Heartstone Manor,” I said, surprised I needed to state something so obvious.
Griffen visibly flinched.
He hadn’t seen his home since the day he’d been cast out. Guilt stabbed at me again. I wasn’t the one who’d thrown him out. That honor went to Prentice. But it was my fault he’d had to leave.
My foolish teenage yearnings had led me to tell a secret, a secret that had ended up stealing everything from Griffen. His love, his family, his legacy. I’d never regretted anything in my life so much as those few ill-spoken words.
When Griffen’s pie was done, I pushed my half-empty plate away and got moving. Our to-do list was only five items, but they were big ones and the clock was ticking. We only had a few days before we needed to be living in Heartstone, our witness in place. That week would fly by before we realized the time was gone.
“You should finish that,” Griffen said, looking at my mostly uneaten blueberry pie.
“I’m good,” I lied. “Let’s go see Miss Martha.”
We walked back to Harvey’s office and our cars. I got in beside Griffen, navigating as he drove the few short miles to the small cottage Miss Martha had purchased after she’d quit working for Prentice.
Despite her history with Prentice, Miss Martha’s eyes lit when they landed on Griffen at her front door. A tall, sturdy woman, bigger than me but not quite as big as Griffen, she pulled him into her arms, patting a callused hand on his back and rocking him from side to side as if he were a child.
With a sniff, she straightened and stepped back. “Come on in before you let in the flies.” He obeyed, a grin quirking his lips. Martha’s strong hand landed on my shoulder as I passed. “What kind of trouble you in, girl?”
“You won’t believe it when I tell you,” I said.
We followed Miss Martha back to her kitchen, sitting at the table while she started to make coffee. Griffen tried to stop her. “We just came from Maisie’s, Miss Martha. Don’t go to any trouble. I need to ask you if you’ll come back to work at Heartstone.”
Martha let out a harrumph and continued setting up the coffee. “Boy, you can’t jump right into business. I haven’t seen you in fifteen years. Sit your tail down at the table and have a cup of coffee with me.”
Griffen sat. Unlike Maisie, Miss Martha had changed over the years. Her red hair had streaks of gray at the temples. Lines grooved her fine skin around her mouth and on her forehead.
“You coming home,” she asked after pressing the button to start the coffee maker, “or are you just here for the service?”
“Looks like I’m coming home. We have a situation,” Griffen said carefully. “I need someone I trust in the house. Why did you leave?”
Miss Martha ignored his question, arranging a tray with coffee mugs, a plate of cookies, and anything else she thought we’d need. You could take the housekeeper out of the house, but she was still Miss Martha. Finally ready, she added the carafe of coffee to the tray and set it in the center of the table.
Griffen controlled his impatience. Barely. When she was settled in her chair, she said, “I’ll say you have a situation, Griffen Sawyer. One brother in jail for murder, the rest of your family falling apart. What are you going to do to fix it?”