“It’s about Water’s Edge,” she said, finally looking up. She didn’t bother asking him to sit down. She’d learned that lesson well: Henry Grey moved when and where he wanted. Period. Trying to influence that only made the speaker look foolish.
He grunted something. She didn’t think it was a word.
“I know how tight your finances are right now, but there are a lot of things at Water’s Edge that need fixing. The fences are in bad shape, the loafing shed is starting to list, and someone’s going to get lost in the mud in the parking area someday if we don’t get a grader in there and lay some gravel. And don’t even get me started on the taxes.” She pushed the short plat map toward him. “We could sell off the ten acres along the road—Bill Deacon is ready to pay you fifty-five thousand dollars for it right now—or we could short plat it into two-acre parcels and double the price. Either way we can make enough money to tide you over for years. God knows you must be tired of shoeing seven horses a day, every day.” She smiled up at him. “It’s perfect, isn’t it? I mean, you can hardly see those acres. You’ll never miss them, and—”
Her dad walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Winona flinched at the sound. Why had she allowed herself to hope? Again. She stared at the closed door, shaking her head, wondering why a smart woman such as herself kept stepping into the same mud puddle and expecting it to be dry. She was an idiot to still want her father’s approval.
“You’re mentally ill,” she muttered to herself. “And pathetic.”
The intercom on the table buzzed loudly, shocking her out of her thoughts.
“Luke Connelly on line one, Winona.”
She pushed the red button. “Did you say Luke Connelly?”
“Yes. Line one.”
Winona drew in a deep, steadying breath as she picked up the phone and answered. “Winona Grey.”
“Hey, Win, it’s Luke Connelly. Remember me?”
“Of course I remember you. How’s Montana?”
“Cold and white right now, but I’m not there. I’m here, in Oyster Shores. I want to see you.”
She caught her breath. “Really?”
“Everyone says you’re the best lawyer in town—not that I’m surprised. I’m considering buying half of Doc Moorman’s veterinary practice and I’d like to talk to you about the terms. Would that be okay?”
“Oh. You need a lawyer.” She refused to feel disappointed. “Sure.”
“Could you come over to the house tomorrow? I’m knee-deep in work over here. The last renters really left a mess. So, what do you say? We’ll sneak a beer. It’ll be just like old times.”
“How about four o’clock? I hear that’s Miller time.”
“Perfect. And Win? I can’t wait to see you.”
She hung up the phone slowly; it was as if the air had thickened suddenly to water and resisted her movement. I can’t wait to see you. She got up and left the conference room, walking down to the foyer, where Lisa sat behind an antique dining room table, typing a letter on her big green IBM Selectric typewriter.
“I’m going out,” Winona said. “It’s an emergency. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“I’ll reschedule Ursula.”
“Good.”
Winona left her quiet office and walked down the sidewalk, following the cement strip two blocks to her sister’s impeccably maintained brick rambler.
There, she opened the unstained wooden gate at Aurora’s backyard and went up to the laundry room door to knock.
It took Aurora forever to answer, and when she finally did, she looked harried. A four-year-old child was on each hip; a boy and a girl. “You just missed Vivi Ann. She borrowed three hundred bucks for the rodeo. Said it was an investment.”
“With a straight face?”
Aurora smiled. “You know Vivi. Good things just come to her.”
Winona rolled her eyes at that, even though they both knew it was true. Their youngest sister often seemed to be standing in a ray of sunlight that excluded everyone else. “Did she leave for Texas?”