Fatal Inheritance

by Sandra Orchard

  Josh shook his head. Strained to wrap his mind around Hunter’s detour.

  “Think about it. The first day she got here, the note in her mailbox said she didn’t belong. Sounds like he doesn’t want her in the house. And if she doesn’t write the article, she won’t get the job.”

  Bec straightened. “And if I don’t get the job—” her voice pitched higher “—I can’t afford to stay in the house.”

  Josh ground his fists deep into his pockets and stared at the wreckage—another connection to her grandparents that she’d lost. If she couldn’t keep the house, she’d be devastated.

  Following the crash, his only thought had been to thank God he hadn’t lost her. Except he couldn’t lose something he never had.

  “C’mon.” Hunter flipped closed his notepad. “I’ll give you both a lift home. You can hash this out there and let me know what you decide about the tour.”

  “You’re forgetting that besides Anne and us, her sister is the only one who knew about the writing job.”

  Bec’s face paled. “Sarah wouldn’t have done this.”

  Josh didn’t know what to think anymore. He needed to put his emotions aside and look at the facts. Figure out who did this and why. And whether he or she would try again.

  * * *

  The next morning, frantic barking yanked Becki from her sleep. Bruiser clawed at the bedroom window, looking as if he might sail through any second.

  Becki sprang to her feet and grabbed his collar. “Easy, boy.” Staying low so she couldn’t be seen, she peered outside.

  At the sight of the barn’s open bay door, her breath caught. They’d had the tow-truck driver unload the wrecked car inside, but who would want it now?

  She reached for her cell phone to call Josh.

  Her stomach tightened. Josh was the last person she wanted to face right now. She snuck another peek out the window. Okay, maybe the second last.

  Tripod scampered out of the barn.

  Tripod? Becki let Bruiser’s collar go. If Tripod was outside, then Josh had to be up. She squinted at the clock: 5:30 a.m. Didn’t the man ever sleep?

  No, he’d probably stood guard all night despite her protests. And he calls me stubborn.

  Bruiser whimpered at her bedroom door.

  “Yeah, okay. I’m coming.” She quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and opened the door.

  Bruiser soared down the stairs, skidded to the kitchen door and started barking again.

  “Hold your horses. I need my shoes.”

  Bruiser snatched up one of her sneakers and pranced in a feverish circle as Becki dropped onto a kitchen chair. The dog deposited the shoe at her feet.

  Becki swiped the slobber off the laces. “Thanks.”

  Ten seconds later, she pushed open the door, and Bruiser took off for the barn, barking loud enough to wake the town three miles away. He raced straight for Tripod at full speed, and they tumbled in a ball of yipping fur. A prowler didn’t stand a chance.

  Becki wavered at the kitchen door. Josh must be going over the car again—one more thing he felt he owed her for. She didn’t even blame him for her grandparents’ deaths. It was just hard to face him, knowing how differently things might’ve turned out. She’d never thought that she’d rather be considered a needy stray, but it beat being his penance.

  She drew in a deep breath and ambled to the barn. She couldn’t avoid him forever.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said loud enough for Josh to hear...wherever he’d disappeared to.

  His head popped out from beneath the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Should’ve thought of that before you opened the big door and set off my dog siren.”

  He rolled out from under the car and onto his feet. “At least one of us is doing our job.” He snatched up a rag and wiped the grease from his hands.

  So she was a job. Well, that was better than penance. “I thought you gave up trying to prove the brakes were sabotaged.”

  “Wanted to see what it would take to salvage her for you.”

  “But the insurance adjuster said she’d be a write-off even if they honor Gramps’s policy.”

  “Doesn’t mean she can’t be fixed. Just means they think it’d cost more to repair than it’s worth.”

  “Well, if they pay me, the money’s going to Sarah. I already told you that.”

  He tossed the rag onto his tool chest and picked up a ratchet. “My labor’s free.”

  For the first time since she’d moved there, she felt as though Josh was the one who needed her, instead of the other way around. Needed to know she didn’t blame him for not preventing her grandparents’ deaths. “You don’t owe me anything,” she whispered.

  He bent over the engine and ratcheted a part. “I like to tinker. Remember?”

  She wedged open the crumpled rear door and slid onto the backseat, the way she used to when Josh and Gramps would tinker together. She scratched at the chipped paint on the door frame, and Gramps’s deep baritone whispered through her mind. God wouldn’t settle for just slapping on a coat of paint to fix that, would He? He wants to change us from the inside out. Not just change what people see on the outside, because—

  “God’s in the business of restoration,” she said aloud. She sensed Josh studying her, but she focused on the chipped paint. “How do you do it?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Keep believing when...God doesn’t seem to care.”

  “I focus on the things that show me He does.”

  “My grandparents are dead. My sister’s husband is beating her. I almost got killed—”

  “We didn’t get killed.” He put down his ratchet, leaned over the door. “Your grandparents passed peacefully in their sleep to a new life. You’ve reconnected with your sister, grown to understand her better. You have a home in the country like you’ve always wanted.”

  Bruiser raced into the barn and planted his giant paws on the door beside Josh.

  Josh ruffled his fur. “And we can’t forget your fiercely protective dog.”

  “Or my even more protective big brother.” She winced. She hadn’t meant to emphasize the last word. Fortunately, Josh didn’t seem to notice.

  “See how easy it is to notice God’s blessings when you start looking?” A dimple dented his cheek, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “My grandparents were good at that. They never doubted God’s love even when my dad rejected them. I want to know God the way they did.”

  He covered her fingers, which had been chipping away at the paint. “You can.”

  “Josh,” she said softly, “I don’t blame you for what happened.” Their eyes met, and...he looked so tormented, she wished... She looked away, dug her fingers into the gap between the seat cushion and the back of the seat.

  “Hey, I think I’ve found something.” She wiggled her fingers, straining to catch hold of whatever it was. “Maybe it’s what the thief was after.” She twisted onto her knees. “My fingers aren’t long enough.”

  “Here, let me have a go.” Josh climbed in beside her, and the air filled with the homey scents of clean soap and pine. His hair, still damp from his morning shower, grazed her arm as he leaned over to reach between the cushions.

  Trying to savor the moment despite herself, she withdrew her hand to give him more room. “It’s right in the middle there.”

  “It feels like paper. Got it.” He pulled a small notebook free from the cushion.

  “Oh, that’s mine!” Nostalgia bubbled up inside her at the sight of the long-forgotten book. “That’s what I used to write my stories in.” She reached for it, but he moved it out of her reach.

  “Your stories, huh?” He flipped through the pages.

  She tried to grab it from h
im, but he stretched his arm so she’d have to climb over him if she wanted it.

  “Let’s read one. See if they’re as good as I remember.”

  She lowered her hands. “Really? You thought they were good?”

  “Sure.” He brought the book to his lap and thumbed through a few pages before suddenly stopping. “This one sounds like it’ll be interesting. ‘When I grow up,’” he read.

  Becki gasped and snatched the book from his hand. Now she remembered how the notebook got between the cushions...and why.

  “C’mon, Bec. It’ll be fun. You always had a great imagination.”

  Oh, she had imagination all right.

  He reached around behind her and recaptured the notebook.

  “No!” She flailed her arms after it. “Please give it back,” she said firmly. “I don’t want you to read it.”

  His grin fell. “I thought you’d get a kick out of hearing the stories again. You were always reading them to your Gramps and me when we worked on the car.”

  “I know, but—” She grabbed back the notebook. There was a good reason she’d stuffed this particular notebook deep between the seat cushions the instant Gramps and Josh had returned from their trip to the scrap yard all those years ago.

  “Is it a diary or something?” he asked. “About your parents?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?”

  She shimmied across the seat and climbed out. “It just is. Okay?” It was bad enough she’d started to imagine that he’d finally noticed her after all these years when he’d only had a guilty conscience.

  He scooted out after her. “Now you’ve just made me all the more curious.”

  “Well, you know what they say about curiosity.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good trait.”

  “No, it killed the cat!”

  He leaned back against the car and casually crossed one leg over the other. “‘When I grow up, I’m going to marry Joshua Rayne,’” he recited as if he had X-ray vision and could read the pages through her hand.

  “You saw that?”

  He grinned wickedly.

  “Argh!” She turned away and buried her face in her hands.

  His strong, muscular arms encircled her. His scent enveloped her. “Hey,” he whispered, his breath lifting the hair from her neck. “Why are you embarrassed? I’m flattered. I want to read the rest. Find out what happens.”

  She leaned back, and her head collided with the solid wall of his chest. “I was twelve.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Amusement flickered in his voice.

  But what was the point in making a big deal about it if he’d already seen the worst?

  “Fine.” She slapped the notebook against his chest. “Read to your heart’s content.”

  She climbed back into the car and continued digging between the cushions for real clues.

  “‘We’ll live in a big farmhouse like Gran and Gramps,’” Josh read, resting his forearms on the edge of the car window. “I like that.” He grinned.

  She ignored him.

  “‘We’ll have lots of animals, because we’ll take in all the injured ones God brings our way,’” he read on. As he turned the page, he added, “You and I rescued our share of animals over the years, didn’t we?”

  Becki chuckled. Josh had never stopped—rescuing animals or damsels in distress.

  “‘Josh wants to be a farmer. I like that, because I don’t want him to be away from home all the time like Daddy is.’” Josh’s voice quieted, and she wondered if it was from the reminder of his lost dream or the mention of her father. “‘We’ll have lots of kids. At least two of each. Jeffrey, Josh Junior, Jessica and Jenny.’”

  His meadow-green eyes captured hers. “You named our kids,” he whispered.

  “I was twelve.”

  “I love those names.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You do?”

  He closed the notebook. “Except if we have a Josh Junior, we’d need to have a little Becki, too.”

  “But of course.” She played along. It was just like old times, sitting around the campfire as kids, weaving far-fetched stories.

  “We already have a three-legged dog, a bird with a broken wing and Bruiser.”

  She laughed. “Yup, a steady supply of needy animals won’t be a problem with your reputation.”

  His grin snagged her breath. He grazed his fingers along her cheek, the color in his eyes darkening, his expression growing intense.

  He was serious!

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and he slowly stroked his thumb across them.

  She held her breath, certain she must be dreaming. Certain any second she’d wake up to Bruiser licking her face.

  He cradled her face in his hands, his fingers curling beneath her hair, and looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. Had she been wrong? It wasn’t guilt that had him being so protective...so near so often?

  He traced her lips with whisper-soft butterfly kisses. No, definitely not guilt.

  She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him back. He tasted of sweet meadows and babbling streams and an abandon that took her breath away.

  FOURTEEN

  Josh waited for Hunter to drive his uncle’s Model T into the box trailer, then helped secure the holding straps. “You’re sure your uncle won’t mind my taking the car for tonight’s reception?”

  “What’s to mind? You’re just transporting it. Anne and I will meet you there tomorrow.” Hunter double-checked the straps. “How’d Bec talk you into going on the tour anyway?”

  “Let’s just say she can be very persuasive.” Josh strained to contain the smile tugging at his lips. He could still taste her kisses, feel the warmth of her arms encircling him. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. Ever. He sure wasn’t about to let her go on the tour without him.

  Not that Hunter needed to know any of that.

  Hunter laughed. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Hunter slapped him on the back. “She’s already got you henpecked.”

  Josh shrugged off Hunter’s hand. “I happen to admire her determination not to give in to this creep’s tactics. And I want her to nail this writing job as much as she does.”

  “So she can afford to stick around, huh?”

  This time Josh didn’t bother to rein in his smile. “You’ve got to admit she’s better than any neighbor you’ve ever had.”

  Hunter hopped down from the box trailer. “Why don’t you just marry her?”

  “What?” Josh stubbed his toe and grasped at the car’s fender. He missed and stumbled off the end of the trailer.

  Hunter roared with laughter. “Oh, man, you should see your face.”

  Josh turned his attention to shoving away the ramp. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t entertained the idea of marrying Bec. Entertained it a hundred times over since reading her journal. He’d even imagined what their children would look like with Bec’s adorable curls.

  “I knew from the minute you called to borrow the cameras that she’d gotten to you.”

  Josh slammed shut the trailer’s back doors. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. After the shooting, all the guys noticed that she wasn’t just a neighbor.”

  “I was concerned about her safety.”

  “And that Winslow might ask her out. And that she might not find a job here and would have to sell.” Hunter leaned against the trailer, his expression smug. “Marrying her would solve all your worries.”

  “That’s crazy. She’s only been here a couple of weeks.” And already he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

  “Sure, but you’ve known her all her life.
Didn’t you say Graw told you he proposed to her grandmother after only three weeks? Look how well that turned out.”

  True. And from what Bec had written in her journal, they’d always wanted the same things. If all this trouble didn’t scare her into running back to the city, maybe... He shook the crazy notion from his head. “It’s too soon. She hasn’t even found a job here yet.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if you married her.”

  “Don’t go blurting that to her this weekend. Your mouth has already gotten me into enough trouble.” Then again...Josh tossed his truck keys in the air and caught them. Maybe this time Hunter would be doing him a favor. “I’ve got to run. She’ll be waiting for me.”

  * * *

  “Give me a sec to grab a wrap,” Becki called out the front door as Josh drove into her driveway, his truck window open. Her insides bubbled at his lopsided smile and the anticipation of feeling that smile on her lips again. The way he looked at her warmed her clear down to her toes.

  She lifted the long skirt of her gown and turned back to the foyer. What was she after?

  Oh, yes, a wrap. Now, where did she see some?

  She flipped up the lid on the bench where Gran had always kept a supply of winter hats and mitts. Her eyes lit on a silk scarf. Ooh, that would make a gorgeous wrap. She snatched it up, and an evening glove tumbled out. Something pinged across the tile.

  Bending to take a look, she stopped short at the sight of a gold-and-ruby earring. She turned it between her fingers. The design was old, older than anything she’d ever seen in Gran’s jewelry box. Old enough to be a museum piece.

  Her stomach pinched. It couldn’t be. She quickly searched the scarf. No other pieces were wrapped inside, not even the matching earring.

  She breathed a relieved sigh. Gran must’ve worn the earring during one of the car rides and didn’t realize it caught on her scarf. The match was probably sitting in Gran’s jewelry box upstairs.

  Becki studied the piece again, ignoring the churning in her stomach. Okay, she was 99 percent sure that she hadn’t seen anything like this the last time she’d checked Gran’s jewelry box, but that didn’t mean the earring was a museum piece. A visitor who’d borrowed one of Gran’s scarves for a ride could have lost the earring.