Page 15 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

A llie looked across the table at her father, wondering how it was possible he’d aged twenty years in the six he’d been here at the Sheridan Federal Correctional Institution.

“It’s so good to see you, Alliecakes.” Her dad squeezed her hand across the dark gray table between them, and Allie bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay.

“You, too, Daddy. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I was here Monday. You’re sure you’re doing okay?”

Less than a week had passed since Allie had come to tell him his mother had died, and that she wouldn’t be bringing Grandma Victoria to visit on his birthday like they’d planned.

He looked tired, more tired than he’d looked on her last few visits.

His eyes seemed red, but maybe it was seasonal allergies.

He probably wasn’t getting allergy-reducing acupuncture treatments in prison.

“I’m okay,” he said. “It’s been a rough week. But it’s been nice seeing you twice in the same week.”

“That’s true.” Allie cleared her throat. “I saw Mom.”

She watched his eyes light up, and a pang of sadness rattled her ribs.

Yes, her parents had bilked people out of thousands of dollars.

Allie knew that. They’d done it together the way some couples took up tennis or wine tasting in middle age.

That still didn’t make it any easier for her to see them separated by two hundred miles and masses of steel bars.

“How’s your mom doing?”

“Good. She was sad to hear about Grandma. Wanted me to send you her condolences.”

“I sure do miss her.”

Allie wasn’t sure who he meant, but didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to make this any harder than it was.

But her father had always been able to read her mind. “I miss your mom, and I miss your grandma.” He squeezed her hand again. “I miss you most of all. Miss seeing my little girl whenever I want.”

The tears battled their way forward, and Allie fought back.

Her dad didn’t need to feel worse than he already did.

She stared at the tall Ficus in the corner, grateful for the greenery scattered throughout the visiting area.

It gave her something to look at when the sight of her father in prison garb threatened to unravel her.

She’d always been a daddy’s girl, and had never gotten used to seeing him behind bars.

Taking a deep breath, Allie glanced at the guard hovering three feet away. He wore a dark gray uniform and stared straight ahead, though she knew he was listening to every word of their conversation.

That made it tougher for her to fish for information. To find out if her dad knew anything about the contents of the trunk in the attic. But her time here was limited, so she needed to get to it.

Allie shuffled her feet on the floor and ordered herself to keep her tone casual. “Did you know Grandma left the Rosewood B&B to me?”

He shook his head. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me. She always loved you so much.”

“Right. I mean, I guess there wasn’t anyone else to leave it to.” She stopped, wishing she could take back the words that probably sounded unkind. If her dad weren’t behind bars, she had no doubt he would have inherited the property.

But her father didn’t seem fazed. He sat with his hand covering hers, wearing the same sad little smile he’d worn every time she’d visited him here. “You deserve to inherit it, Allie. I’m glad the old place will stay in the family.”

“Me, too.” Allie cleared her throat, ready to try again. “So, Daddy. Did your lawyer ever talk to you about Grandma’s will? About her assets or anything?”

He shook his head. “Not really. From what I understand, there wasn’t much left. I know that assisted living place ate up a lot of her savings, and all the legal stuff a few years ago?—”

He glanced at the guard, then back at Allie. “I do feel bad about all that.”

Allie nodded, not sure what else to say. Not sure what she could say. She knew he’d been working on another appeal, just like her mom was. That made them both pretty tight-lipped about the details of the crime that had put them behind bars.

Allie tried again. “So Grandma never talked to you about her other assets?”

“You mean like stocks, bonds?”

“Sure, anything like that.”

Her hand felt chilly beneath her father’s warmer one, and she willed him to read her mind, to know what she was driving at. He’d always been so good at that.

But he just shook his head and frowned. “Nothing I know about. Why?”

“No reason. Just being thorough.”

He squeezed her hand again. “That’s my girl. Always dotting every i and crossing every t.”

“Right. That’s me.”

“So have you been back to the place? The B&B, I mean.”

“I have.” Allie glanced at the guard again, trying not to notice the lethal-looking club on his belt. “Did you know grandma turned it into a cat sanctuary?”

“Sanctuary?” Her father frowned. “Like a church?”

“No, not a church. Like a residence for homeless cats.”

He gave a small, fond smile. “She always did like cats. Remember that orange one with the weird ears? And that gray one she had, Stumpy?”

Allie nodded, dimly remembering Stumpy. “That’s right. The one with the white feet and the meow that sounded like a smoker’s cough.”

Her dad laughed, already on his way down memory lane. “I remember she got him as a gift from someone. She never said who, but that always seemed like a pretty weird present.”

“Maybe it was a gag gift,” Allie suggested. Then she grimaced as her brain flashed back on the image of the ball gag she’d found in the attic. “Do you remember if Stumpy had extra toes?”

“Not that I can recall, why?”

“Most of the cats there now have extra toes. I was wondering if maybe they’re all relatives or something.”

He looked thoughtful. “Could be. I don’t know much about the toe thing, but I suppose if it’s some sort of congenital abnormality, it could be recessive. Like you might have a cat with normal paws who carries the gene and produces kittens with the extra toes.”

“It’s no big deal.” Allie shrugged, still trying to figure out how to steer the conversation to the topic of the steamer trunk. “I didn’t mean to go all crazy cat lady.”

“No, it’s very interesting.” He grinned. “Besides, it doesn’t sound like there’s much chance you’ll be making me a grandpa anytime soon. This might be the closest I get.”

“Right.” Allie brushed her hair off her forehead and tried not to let the words sting. “Just call me your spinster daughter with fourteen cats.”

“Fourteen?” Her father blinked. “Are there really that many?”

“Apparently.”

He whistled low under his breath. “That’s a lot of cats. I bet the place stinks to high heaven.”

“Actually, there’s a caretaker who’s been looking after them. She keeps the place pretty clean, and the cats have these fancy robotic litter box contraptions. You really don’t notice the smell.”

Good Lord, is this what her life had come to? Discussing litter box smells with her incarcerated father?

She almost didn’t notice her dad’s face had changed. He was frowning now, and it took Allie a moment to realize it had nothing to do with feline odor control.

“Wait, you said there’s a caretaker?” His frown deepened. “You mean someone’s been living in the house?”

A faint prickle fluttered down her spine. Her dad looked worried. Allie licked her lips, wanting to tread carefully. Did her dad know something about the money?

“Yeah, I guess when grandma went into the assisted living place, she hired a student to look after things. Skye someone, I can’t remember her last name.” Allie tried to recall what else she knew. “She didn’t have the bandwidth to handle the B&B, so she’s only been tending the cats.”

Her father’s frown deepened, and Allie watched his face for any hints that he knew about the money. He seemed to be considering something.

Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose you’ve been up in the attic?”

Allie held her breath for a second, not sure how to answer.

She’d thought about it all the way here, framing questions and subtle hints in her mind, but she hadn’t anticipated being asked about this outright.

She glanced at the guard, then at the couple seated on the other side of them.

No one was looking at their way, but that didn’t mean they weren’t listening.

She chose her words carefully, struggling to keep her tone casual. “Is there something in the attic that you wanted me to look for?”

“No. I just—” Her father sighed, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he looked at her again, he seemed resigned to something. “I suppose you may as well know.”

Allie could hear her heart pounding hard in her ears, and she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. She lowered her voice to reply. “Know what?”

Her dad glanced at the guard, then leaned closer to her across the table. “There’s something stored up there that’s rather— private .”

“What is it?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Her father’s hand still enveloped hers, and Allie couldn’t tell if he was shaking or if she was.

“It was something I didn’t want your mother to know about,” he said slowly.

Allie held her breath. “Are you able to tell me?”

He seemed to hesitate. Another glance at the guard. “You’ve already been up there?”

She knew she hadn’t actually said, and wondered if this was one of his old lawyer tricks.

He’d always been good at getting her to confess, at making her admit something she didn’t want to without her even realizing it.

Like the time she and Amy short-sheeted the counselor’s bed at summer camp and her dad asked about it the day he picked her up.

Or the spring before college when he noticed a streaky handprint on the glass in the backseat of her car and asked, cool as could be, if she’d been having difficulty rolling down the window.

Allie decided to answer truthfully. “Yes. I was up there yesterday.”

“I see. And did you find anything ... noteworthy?”