Page 5 of Golden Touch
Stop it!I chide myself.
Maybe he can feel my eyes on him, too, because he turns suddenly in my direction. I react without thinking, ducking back into the darkness of the brewery, keeping out of his sight line.
I’m stalling. Not that it will help. We’re about to have a very awkward conversation about what happened here today. And probably about thatothertime we almost met.
Maybe he’s forgotten? We’d first encountered each other last November, almost five months ago. But if he remembers that night, it means I’ve seriously messed up with the Giltmaker heirtwice.
Oh my God. I’m going to be fired by lunchtime.
CHAPTER 3
NASH
Who knew I had “start the day in handcuffs” on my bingo card?
“Sorry about that, Mr. Giltmaker,” the officer says as he hooks the infernal things back onto his duty belt. “Big misunderstanding. She was just real good and panicked.”
“Yeah. Gettin’ that.” I sigh. “Did she say why? This has always been a quiet part of town. Has there been a rash of break-ins or something?”
“Not to my knowledge, sir.” The young cop looks nervous. “You’re not gonna file a complaint, are you?”
“Against you? Nah. But she and I are going to have a conversation.”
The guy winces. “Keep it friendly. And say hi to your sister for me. Leila is a great girl.”
Speaking of Leila, I glance around the parking lot. “You haven’t seen her, have you? She was supposed to meet me here.”
“Can’t say I have,” he says. “Hope the rest of your day goes better.”
“Thanks, man.”
He heads back toward his cruiser, the other cop joining him after emerging from the brewery. I watch them pull away, take a few deep breaths, and try to regain my equanimity.
I’m an easygoing guy. The kind of person who doesn’t get too upset when there’s a kink in my day. Usually.
But coming home to Vermont is always a test of my patience. This trip is only a few hours old, and I’m already at the end of my rope. My sister has stood me up. My father’s assistant called the cops on me. And I never even wanted this gig in the first place.
Maybe it’s a sign. I should just get back on my bike and go home.
But I’d never bail on Leila like that, and her absence is starting to make me nervous. My sister isverypregnant, and now I’m worried that something’s happened to her. I pull out my phone and try a text.
Buddy, you late?
No answer.
With a low groan of frustration, I head for the door again and open it gently. It’s quiet inside, just the way it was before.
“Listen up!” I call down the echoing hallway. “Whoever you are, I’m coming into the office. Don’t shoot. And for fuck’s sake, don’t call the cops.”
This announcement is met with silence.
Fuck.
I march down the corridor under a full head of steam, ready to get a good look at this shrew whose first impulse was to have me arrested rather than just ask me to introduce myself. She’s probably an older lady—suspicious of motorcycles and tattoos. That must be it.
When I reach my father’s office, the door is open. I lean against the doorjamb and scan the cavernous room. What I see is surprising.
First of all, the place is spotless. This room has been an office for over a hundred years, first for the mill that operated on this site since the late nineteenth century, and later for a truckingcompany. Eventually, my father bought the place for his many business ventures.
