Page 57 of Unpacking Secrets

“Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. A glint of pride crept into his eyes. “I only took over full time with the bookkeeping about three years ago, though now I have Nan’s remaining responsibilities rolled into my job. She was a damn fine businesswoman. The inn became a popular getaway spot back in the early seventies.”

“I should have asked you for a history lesson that first day instead of fighting with you. People still visit in the off-season? I’ve heard winters can be brutal out here.”

Henry grinned. “Oh, they can be, but yes. We’re almost always at half-capacity, at least, even during slower times. We host a few small weddings each year, and Nan created different seasonal packages that still sell out every time.”

“That seems like a good way to keep people interested. Nan had some entries about weddings in the journals—those must be beautiful, especially with the gardens in bloom.”

“Definitely. She never wanted to update the damn website, though. I guess she thought calling for reservations was a nice personal touch, but I’ve been working on upgrading the site recently. Talking to someone on the phone might be more personal, but for the younger generations, it’s just an added aggravation. I want to allow for online booking, even if we hold back some availability for phone reservations.”

“That sounds perfect,” I agreed, smiling at him.

His enthusiasm charmed me. Then something occurred to me and my smile faded—I watched Henry’s expression fall right along with it.

“What would have happened to the inn if Nan hadn’t left it to me?” I asked quietly.

“I don’t know, actually,” he said, frowning a little. “We all assumed it would have been left to your mother, as next of kin—I figure it would have fallen on the lawyers to track her down. Nan changed her will after learning your mother had passed,” he added gently, “but I don’t know what exactly she changed, apart from naming you as her heir instead of your mother.”

I dropped my gaze back to the paper in my lap, nodding silently.

“No one at the inn has any hard feelings toward you, Juliet. They were as delighted to know you were coming out as Nan was when she found your picture. Believe me, I had to sit through a staff meeting about how amazing you would be right before you got here.”

I laughed at that. “Then I guess I can’t blame you for thinking I was a spoiled little heiress when I came into the office.”

“Well, I might have jumped to conclusions.”

“Only a few.”

He grinned. “I learned my lesson, though.”

“Good. This is the last one,” I said as I set aside the folder containing Philip Montgomery’s will and reached into the box.

Under this file folder was a small metal box fitted with a tiny lock. My eyes flew wide.

“I can go get some tools to break into it,” Henry offered.

“No,” I said slowly, “I think I have the key.”

I reached across him to grab the set Gerard had given me from the side table, then held up the tiny third key to show him. We were both silent as he watched me insert it into the lock. It popped open and I set the lock aside to open the lid.

Henry wrapped his arm around me as we leaned forward to look at its contents together. The box held a number of yellowed local newspaper clippings spanning nearly a decade, from years before and after my mother left town to create a new life a thousand miles away.

I gingerly lifted them one at a time, scanning the front and back of each brittle page. None of the articles were about the inn, my grandmother, or my mom.

“I don’t understand,” I said finally. “Maybe Nan was running the local conspiracy site I found before I moved here.”

Henry huffed a laugh. “Nan is the one who refused to let me update the website. I can’t imagine her figuring out how to run one herself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but his finger landed on a headline and he froze.

“Look at this,” he whispered, pointing to the tiny print.

Body found during construction on Lakeview Drive.

We read the article in silence. A young woman’s body had been unearthed during foundation work in a new subdivision in the early nineties. It was eventually ruled a homicide. Her identity was listed as Lynette Jenkins of Oakville, which I remembered Henry said was the next town over. There were no suspects at the time.

“Lakeview Drive isn’t too far from Cooper’s Point,” he told me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “That conspiracy site, it had a page about unsolved murders. This must be them.”

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