Page 106 of Rules to Love By

“Will it forgive me? That was my home.”

“And you want it to be again.”

“I—I think I do.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do, right?”

Marcus nodded, even as he stared at the countertop.

“What?” Tris asked.

“I mean, yeah, I think that’s what I want, but Schiffer told me not to go back.”

“What? Like, ever?”

“No. Just until this shitstorm is over.”

“True. I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah. But what if that keeps me away just long enough for Johnathan to get what he wants?”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“I don’t know, Tris. He started out telling me he’d sold the place.”

“Which he can’t do without knowing what your aunt’s will says.”

“But I was stupid enough to believe him, and anyway, what if there isn’t one?”

“Do you really think that? Your aunt, the queen of all things practical, didn’t make a will? Even if she didn’t have one at first, after the first stroke she probably made one. To make sure everything was in order. I mean, look who her family is. Just because she wasn’t on speaking terms with them doesn’t mean she didn’t have a buttload of their money stashed away someplace.” Tris scooped up a handful of shredded cheese. “She had a will, Marc. She wouldn’tnothave one.”

“Then where is it? I can’t go look for it because Schiffer told me to stay away. That just gives Johnathan the time he needs to look for it.” He watched Tris spread the cheese, dread growing in his gut. He hadn’t thought of anything but the business and the building. He’d never considered family money, though he knew his aunt’s parents had a lot of it. She’d never talked about it, and never acted like there was any. Hell, she’d worried, month to month, sometimes, about the diner surviving and their home staying in their hands. He didn’t think there was any money. But what if that was what Johnathan was really after, and the diner, the building, and him, were just collateral damage to his real agenda?

“Marc?”

“I have to go.”

“Go where?”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Where do you think?”

“Marc, you can’t. Schiffer said no.”

“What does he know?”

“He’s your lawyer. In this case, probably more than you.”

“But—” His phone trilled.

“Answer that.”

Grumbling, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Shit. It’s him.”

“Eli?”

Frowning, Marcus shook his head. “Hi, Mr. Schiffer.” He backed away from the counter to take the call farther away from the opening to the dining room, even though there weren’t any people on the other side at the moment. “What’s up?”

“Mr. Richards. Glad I caught you. I’ve spoken with the police, and I think we are ready to have a conversation with them. There’s nothing to worry about. You tell them everything you told me and it will all be fine.”

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