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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

F orbes worked to keep his gaze on his plate. Watching Brooklynn savor the meal he’d prepared for her brought far too much enjoyment.

He’d bought her a handful of T-shirts to go with the yoga pants, and today she’d chosen a bright pink one.

He’d vacillated about the color, but remembering the yellow top she’d worn when they met, he’d guessed she preferred bright colors.

He didn’t hate that he’d guessed right. Her hair was braided, a few strands framing her face.

She wore no makeup, not that she needed any.

She looked gorgeous.

He’d cleaned up the widow’s walk and hauled the furniture upstairs because he’d needed a distraction. He’d needed to think, and sometimes that was best accomplished when he did something with his hands.

And maybe he’d gone to the trouble because he’d known she would like it. Another thing he’d guessed right about, considering her appreciative gazes at the view and the little mews of pleasure as she ate.

If he were a different man with a different past and a future filled with hope instead of the murky darkness he’d never been able to see past…

If there were any way at all to make it work, he might consider trying to keep Brooklynn around.

Not that the effervescent woman would want to be with a miserable jerk like him.

Even so, he wanted to make her happy, or at least a little less un happy, while she was trapped in his house.

“Tell me about him.” She sipped her water, then added, “Your uncle.”

Forbes set his fork down. “Charles grew up here. A Ballentine ancestor built it, and it’s been in the family ever since. The family’s got some money.”

“Strangely enough, I figured that out myself.”

“You’d be surprised how many families own expensive properties who are barely scraping by financially. The upkeep on a house like this is pricey. Just the taxes force some families to sell.”

“But not the Ballentines. They’ve held onto it, even though nobody’s lived here for years.”

His ever-practical grandmother claimed she’d held onto it for him—his legacy—but he suspected it was more than that. Though this house was the setting of great tragedy, before that it had been a home filled with love.

Forbes couldn’t share any of that.

“Charles’s grandfather owned a shipping company, which his dad, Broderick, inherited. He added logging to the enterprise. Charles wasn’t interested in either business.”

“Did his father mind?”

“Not that I know of.” Forbes was careful to talk about this like an outsider, though it felt strange.

He never talked to anybody about his family.

He’d spent his entire life hiding his past and his true identity.

But Brooklynn was involved now, and she needed more of an understanding about what was going on.

Plus, he wanted her to know him better, even if she didn’t realize how much of himself he was revealing.

“Aside from paying for college,” Forbes said, “Broderick gave Charles no money but plenty of encouragement. Charles started buying real estate, sometimes to flip, sometimes to rent out. By the time he moved back here with his wife and three-year-old daughter, Rosie, he was a multimillionaire.”

“I bet his father was impressed.”

“He died before they returned to Maine, but he lived long enough to see his son succeed.” Forbes wished he’d met his grandfather.

If Grandmother’s opinion hadn’t been too jaded with time, the man had been kind and generous.

Even when he’d refused to help Charles start his business, he’d done it not to hurt him but to help him learn that he didn’t need anyone’s help to succeed.

“What about your cousin?” Brooklynn asked.

Forbes took a sip of water, reminding himself to stay in character. Never in his life had he felt guilty for not being honest about who he really was. It was for his safety, after all. And, as Grandmother said, he didn’t owe anybody the truth about his past.

He’d never doubted her, but now, with Brooklynn across the table, with her open, expectant expression, guilt niggled his conscience.

”Forbes was ten years younger than his sister,” he explained. "I understand Grace had a couple of miscarriages between them.”

“Aw, I bet that was hard.”

Forbes assumed so, though his parents hadn’t talked about it in front of him. Grandmother had told him about the miscarriages, how his mother had called Forbes her miracle baby.

“Charles owned real estate, but you said they moved back to Maine. Where did they live before?”

“Boston area.”

“Was that where most of his real estate was?”

“Started there, but he expanded all over eastern Mass, then into New Hampshire and southern Maine. He had an office in Boston where his employees worked. He’d moved on to industrial properties by then, which required more day-to-day involvement than the residential properties.

Charles moved into contracting. At the time of the murders, he had three huge construction projects underway. ”

“Do you think the murders were related to one of those?”

“I’ve gone over all the books and talked to his former employees, and by all accounts, everything was aboveboard.

There’d been no threats against him or his company, no lawsuits except the typical run-of-the-mill stuff, all of which were settled out of court.

None of which was contentious. His manager at the time told me that Charles was well-respected among New England developers, that his employees and peers were shocked and devastated when they heard the news. ”

“What about Grace?” Brooklynn asked. “Could the murders have been related to something she was doing?”

“I can’t imagine how. Grace didn’t work outside the home. She raised her kids and took care of this place. She was involved in local charities, the women’s club, that sort of thing.”

“She sounds a lot like my mother. I bet Mom would remember her. I could ask.”

The last thing Forbes wanted was for anyone to know he was looking into his family’s history. “Not without giving away where you are.”

“Oh. Right.” Brooklynn’s head tilted to the side. “Did you learn anything new today? Did the notebook I found help at all?”

He swallowed a bite of pasta. “Yes and no.”

She said nothing, but the slight lift of her eyebrows told him he hadn’t satisfied her curiosity.

“It’s a ledger written in Charles’s handwriting, but it wasn’t in his office. He went to a lot of trouble to hide it, which tells me he was doing something illegal or at the very least, immoral. But I haven’t figured out what.”

“It didn’t offer a lot of details, did it? Just dates and dollar amounts and other numbers with no explanation.”

A flash of frustration had his hands balling into fists.

“I know, I know.” She lifted her palms defensively. “I shouldn’t have looked at it. It’s not my business. Blah, blah, blah. I was just curious.”

“The word is nosy .”

“If not for my nosiness, you wouldn’t have the ledger.” She winked and added, “You’re welcome.”

“I wasn’t thanking you.”

“I’m assuming a level of politeness you’ve yet to exhibit.” She gazed around the space. “Except you’ve more than made up for your rudeness with this lunch. Underneath all the grumpy bluster, you’re really very kind, aren’t you?”

“Just wanted to get outside, that’s all.”

Her smile was brighter than the sunshine. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Right. From the woman addicted to snooping.”

“It’s not like I’m telling anybody what I learn.”

“Are you going to stop?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, and she laughed her lighthearted, all-is-right-with-the-world laugh. Frustrating woman.

Frustrating, and way too enticing.

* * *

Forbes needed to protect Brooklynn, not develop feelings for her.

He’d worked with his share of beautiful women, but none of them had elicited these feelings in him. He needed her to stop digging into his family’s life, into his business.

On the other hand, she had been helpful. She’d shared the photos she’d taken of the men at the old dock. She’d seen a resemblance between Bernie and Shane Dawson he’d never have noticed, giving him a new lead to investigate. And she’d found the ledger.

She could be a good resource, someone to bounce his ideas off of.

Forbes wasn’t accustomed to having anyone on his side.

He was used to going it alone. He didn’t even tell Grandmother much.

She’d lost her only son that terrible day, not to mention a daughter-in-law she’d loved and her granddaughter.

Grandmother wasn’t fragile or delicate, but she was desperate to know who murdered them and why. He didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Brooklynn had no skin in the game. He could tell her what he knew with little risk. She’d already done so much for him. Between cooking and cleaning and finding the ledger…

He owed her more than a thank-you. He owed her information about what he was up to.

He owed her the truth.

The only person alive aside from his grandmother who knew his real identity was his therapist, and she’d known who he really was since he was eight years old.

The headmaster from his boarding school had known, but he’d died a few years past.

Forbes had never confided in anyone else.

It wasn’t such an easy thing to trust someone with the truth about who he was, knowing he would open himself up to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. But Brooklynn wasn’t pushy. Nosy, but not pushy.

He could trust her.

“I need to tell you…” He lost his nerve and changed tack. “I don’t mind. The snooping, I mean.”

Her eyebrows rose, brightening her already-joyful expression. “It’s nice to have permission.”

“All I ask is that you show me anything you find.”

“Deal.” She pushed her plate away. “That was delicious.”

He dug in his jacket pocket and held out a foil-wrapped truffle.

“My hero!” She snatched it and unwrapped it. “This is exactly what I was craving.”