Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Seeing her shiver, her husband lay down next to her to share his warmth.
“It is starting to snow,” she whispered, not wanting to wake her sleeping son.
“As soon as it is light, I will build a place to keep us warm—there are enough broken limbs I can use. I will not go to the trading post until you and the baby are safe enough to be left alone for a day.”
As the bright moon shone down on them, the worry and fear she had been feeling since their journey had begun inexplicitly ebbed away.
“We’ll be safe while you are gone—the mountain will protect us.” She didn’t know how she knew that, yet she did. “That is why the horses would not let them follow us. Mother wanted us to find this place. She wanted to make sure we would survive.”
Chapter One
PRESENT TIME
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Sophie stared dispassionately at the lawyer as he expressed his condolences.
“I’m sure your father’s death has come as a shock.”
Not really, she thought sarcastically. The only surprise to her was that Marty hadn’t been killed years ago.
“Law enforcement believe your father’s murder was meant to serve as a message to his accomplices.”
Of that, Sophie had no doubt. Marty had had a habit of surrounding himself with other crooks.
“Mr. Keates, let me save us both some time. I stopped caring about Marty when I was four years old and had to run to a neighbor’s house to call for help after he nearly beat my mother to death. The happiest day of my life was when she left him. If you called me in here to make arrangements for his body, he can rot in the morgue, as far as I’m concerned.”
Mr. Keates seemed at a loss for words
Sophie reached for her purse. “If that’s all, I’ll let you get back to more important work. I’m going to take my mother to a celebratory lunch and tell her the happy news.”
“No—” Mr. Keates cleared his throat, reaching for an envelope on his desk. “I mean, there is another matter to discuss. Your father left you this letter, and there is the matter of what he left you in his will.”
She didn’t reach for the letter. “I don’t want a dime of his money, and you can put that letter in the shredder for me.”
Mr. Keates cleared his throat again. “There wasn’t any money. Mr. Meyer left you a restaurant.”
Son of a bitch knew she wouldn’t easily throw away a restaurant. The only trait she shared with her father was their love of restaurants.
Owning her own restaurant would be a dream come true. She had been saving money since graduating high school to achieve her goal and was still thousands of dollars away from reaching it.
Her eyes fell to her lap, where she was clenching her purse. “What kind of restaurant?”
Mr. Keates looked down at a folder on his desk. “The restaurant used to be a diner before Mr. Meyer purchased it. When he owned it, he only sold hamburgers and fries.”
Figures. The only meal she could ever remember him making her was hamburgers and fries.
Twisting the strap of her purse, she wanted to refuse the restaurant just as easily as she had any money. Only she couldn’t get the words to come out of her mouth.
She wanted a restaurant so badly. How many years would it take to earn enough money before she could purchase one on her own?
“Where’s the restaurant located?”
“Treepoint, Kentucky.”
When had Marty moved to Kentucky? The last time her mother had hired a detective to find him, he had been living in Tennessee. Where in the hell was Treepoint, anyway?
Ignoring the lawyer’s presence, she took out her cell phone and Googled Treepoint.
The town was small, really small. Would she even be able to make a living there?
“As I stated, there is no money that comes with your inheritance, but the business could present a good investment for you, or you could sell the property. Of course, you don’t have to decide what you want to do right now—think it over.” Mr. Keates picked up a thick yellow envelope, sliding the letter Marty had left her inside before he closed it and handed it to her.
Sophie stared at the envelope for a full minute before shaking her head.
The lawyer kept holding the envelope mid-air. “I understand, from your reaction to Mr. Meyer’s death, that you were estranged from your father. In my line of work, I’ve seen family members have to deal with their emotions toward the deceased and their inheritance before. Normally, they take the inheritance as payback for the hurt they feel they had to endure from the deceased. There have also been a few, like yourself, who refuse to take anything.
“My best advice to you is not to cut off your nose to spite your face. Mr. Meyers is dead. He’s not going to know if you accepted the inheritance or not. Your opportunity to pay him back for the way he treated your mother is gone. The only one who will be hurt will be you if you refuse. I don’t know your financial situation”—Mr. Keates’ gaze lowered to skim over the clothes she was wearing then returned to her eyes—“but I want you to think of your future instead of dwelling on the past before you make your decision.” He was right, much as she hated to admit it. She hated Marty so much she wanted to award the person who killed him a medal.