Page 108 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

I understood that more than I wanted to.

Beatrice set her cup down carefully, her fingers lingering on the porcelain like she was holding onto something more than just a teacup.

“Hank Lawson wasn’t the first of his family to sink his claws into this town,” she said, her voice measured, careful. “His father, Walter Lawson, was a thorn in George’s side for decades. Always had his hands in things he shouldn’t. Always looking for ways to twist Medford into something he could own outright.”

I leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Beatrice exhaled, shaking her head. “Your uncle never told me the full story. But he used to say that Walter Lawson wanted to ruin this town and take advantage of everyone in it. Their debts, their businesses, their homes. The bookstore.” She hesitated. “The bookstore was always in his sights. And George knew it.”

My fingers tightened around my cup. “But why? Why a little bookstore when there were bigger businesses to take over?”

She gave me a long look. “That's the question, isn’t it?”

Something cold slithered through me.

Beatrice continued, “I never could get him to tell me outright. But I know this, whatever George was protecting, it’s still here. That's why Hank Lawson is so desperate to get his hands on it now.”

I swallowed. “What do you think it is?”

She hesitated, as if she were considering whether or not to say the next words out loud. And then, finally, she said, “That safe in the back office.”

The air left my lungs.What safe?

I stared at her, my mind scrambling.

“Beatrice,” I shook my head. “There’s no safe in the office.”

Her brow furrowed. “Of course there is.”

“No, I’ve been through everything. Every drawer, every cabinet, every…” I stopped.

I thought of the storeroom. Of how cluttered it had been when I first arrived.

Of the old wooden desk, the bookshelves, the filing cabinets and that massive, dust-covered cabinet tucked into the corner.

One I’d barely paid attention to because it had been covered in books, stacks of old receipts, and other things I had shoved out of my way.

I hadn't seen a safe.

My heart pounded.

“Beatrice,” I whispered. “I think I need to find this safe.”

Her lips pressed together, her expression unreadable.

“Then, Aurora,” she said, voice soft but firm, “you’d best find out what's inside.”

I barely remembered the walk back to Page Turners. My heart was still pounding from what Beatrice had told me.

A safe.

Something my uncle had been protecting. Maybe something related to Hank Lawson.

I pushed through the front door, heading straight to the back of the shop.

I didn’t need distractions. I needed answers.

The storeroom smelled like dust and ink, the scent of old paper thick in the air. I flicked on the overhead light, casting a dim glow over the cluttered space.

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