When You Got a Good Thing, Page 3

  At the direction of the funeral home staff, everyone gathered in neat rows around the plot, careful not to trip over the artificial turf covering the grim reality of a freshly dug grave. Tensions between the sisters were evident as they stood at the edge. Their postures were stiff, no hands or arms linked in support. So different from growing up, when they’d been a unit. But even as Xander crossed over to join the crowd, the four of them closed ranks around Ari, taking her hand or touching her shoulder. The Reynolds sisters might be a family divided, but they were still a family at the heart. Joan had forged those links, and he thought the child would be the one to reinforce them.

  Pastor Hodgson began the service, his booming baritone carrying across the cemetery as he spoke of a life cut tragically short. “Joan Reynolds was a good woman, a good Christian, who believed in healing the world through love. After spending fifteen years working as a social worker and being frustrated with the limitations in her ability to help the children on her caseload, she left that job and opened her home as a foster parent. She spent the next twenty-five years devoting her life to that endeavor, impacting the lives of more than a hundred children—none more so than her daughters.”

  The minister rolled on through the service, offering prayers and platitudes. When, at last, he lapsed into silence, heads bowed in respect, in mourning. Then a single, tremulous voice lifted in song. Kennedy. Eyes closed, face raised to the sky, she sang, gaining strength with every word. After a few bars, Xander recognized the lyrics to “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Raw and unaccompanied, the sound of it sent chills down his spine, stripping away the hurt and resentment, until all he wanted was to comfort and soothe. Because she was aching, and no matter what had passed between them or how it had ended, a part of him still needed to protect her.

  She was weeping by the end, tears streaming down her cheeks and sobs stealing her breath for the final lines. Pru took her hand. Maggie looped an arm through hers. Even Athena reached out to squeeze her shoulder. In this, at least, it seemed they could put aside their differences.

  Pastor Hodgson made a few more remarks. And then it was done. Each of the sisters stepped forward to lay a single white rose over the polished coffin before slowly stepping away. Kennedy pressed a hand to the wood, chin quivering. Then she, too, stepped away.

  Mourners moved in clumps toward parked cars. They would, Xander knew, be heading back to the house for the reception. He’d told himself he wasn’t going, that he didn’t want to add to the strain with his presence. Pru, at least, would worry about him and Kennedy being in the same room again after all this time. Who knew whether Kennedy herself would be bothered? But Porter had made it up for the funeral after all, and Xander didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see one of his oldest friends. And, for better or worse, a part of him wanted to see Kennedy, just to check on her.

  By the time he arrived, the house was packed. It might’ve looked like a party but for the quiet murmur of voices and the lack of music. People already had plates of food and visited in clusters of three or four. Porter Ingram stood across the living room, hands jammed in the pockets of his suit, scanning the gallery of photos, much as Xander had done the other day.

  “A lot of memories here,” Xander murmured.

  Porter turned and offered a small smile. “Yeah.” He opened his arms, and Xander returned the back thumping hug.

  “Glad you could make it. How’s Gatlinburg?”

  When wildfires had broken out in November, Porter had headed south as part of the National Guard to try to contain the blaze. The aftermath had left Gatlinburg ravaged and burned more than a hundred thousand acres across eight states. In the face of the devastation, he’d stayed as part of the reconstruction efforts.

  “It’s going. We’re starting to see some solid progress, but it’ll be a long damned time before the land heals. The Ridge was damned lucky the fires didn’t make it this far.”

  Xander gave thanks for that every day. “Are you here long?”

  “Have to head back tonight. We’re at a critical stage in the project just now, and I’ve got to be on site tomorrow.”

  “Got time for a beer before you go?”

  “Depends what time I finish up here.” Porter sighed. “Can’t believe this, man. Joan was a force of nature. It just seems so senseless.”

  “It is senseless.”

  They both turned at the quiet voice.

  “Maggie.”

  Xander wondered if she noticed the softening in Porter’s expression and tone.

  She’d lost the suit jacket since the cemetery but looked no less professional in the slim skirt and blouse, all that pale blonde hair gathered in a roll at her nape. Xander imagined she dressed much the same for the boardroom or her high-powered clients in LA. He wasn’t sure exactly what she did for a living except that it used that terrifying brain of hers.

  “It’s Margaret these days.”

  “Old habits die hard,” Porter replied.

  Maggie winced. “Well, I suppose it’s better than Mudbug.”

  “I was fifteen and stupid.”

  Porter had been fifteen and in love with her, Xander knew. Not that Porter had ever felt comfortable acting on it while living under the same roof.

  “Brother’s prerogative, I guess.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course.”

  They both watched as she moved on to greet other guests.

  “Brother,” Porter grumbled.

  “So that’s still the way the wind blows, huh?”

  Porter twitched his broad shoulders in irritation. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll be headed back to California soon enough.” But his eyes followed her as she circulated the room. “Let’s go get some food.”

  Athena had taken over in the kitchen, overseeing the spread of food with a surly air that didn’t invite conversation. The big farmhouse table groaned under the weight of all the dishes, and Xander had no doubt more would be forthcoming from those who hadn’t yet been by. Pru fussed by the stove, making more iced tea. Catching sight of him, she shot a panicked look toward the back door. Following her gaze, saw Kennedy picking her way across the lawn.

  At the table, Porter held out a plate.

  “I’ll get some in a bit. I need to do something first.”

  “Xander.” Hands knitted, Pru stepped in front of the door.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m just going to check on her. That’s all.” Before she could protest further, he slipped outside to follow.

  Xander had no idea what he was going to say. Some dim part of him knew this was probably a bad idea, but he could no more stay away from her than a moth could a flame—even knowing he was likely to get burned. But she wasn’t alone down at the overlook. Ari sat on the long bench set beneath the spreading branches of an oak. Xander stopped, wondering whether he should head on back inside.

  “I always used to like to come out here to think when I lived here.” Kennedy’s voice floated back on the faint breeze as she sat. She didn’t touch the girl, didn’t encroach on her personal space. They both just sat, looking out toward the lowering sun. In another hour it’d be full dark.

  “You don’t have to talk,” she continued. “I know you’re sad and scared, and I know you don’t really know me. But I just wanted to say that I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk. Sometimes talking helps you feel less alone.”

  Ari looked over at her for a long moment before turning her gaze back to the mountains. “That was nice, what you did today.”

  Kennedy’s only acknowledgment that the girl had just spoken for the first time in almost a week was to glance over. “What was?”

  “The singing. When my abuela died, the priest did the service, but there was no music. Only prayers. Joan would’ve liked it.”

  Kennedy’s shoulders rose and fell, and her voice, when she spoke, was a little choked. “Simon and Garfunkel were particular favorites of hers. But she lo
ved all kinds of music. At one point, we had so many kids in the house who sang or played some kind of an instrument, we put together a band.”

  “Yeah?”

  She gave a watery laugh. “Oh, we were absolutely terrible. But Joan sat and listened to our concerts like we were The Beatles or something.” She hesitated. “Do you even know who The Beatles are at your age?”

  Ari shook her head and leaned against Kennedy’s shoulder. “You could maybe show me.”

  Kennedy wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. “I will absolutely do that.”

  Ari needed this way more than Xander needed…whatever it was he’d hoped to get out of this encounter. Edging back, he made his way quietly back to the house.

  Chapter Three

  KENNEDY WAS STILL HUNG over from tears and jet lag as she and her sisters stepped into the attorney's office the day after the funeral. The drive to Johnson City had been a blur, but at least there'd been coffee—Athena's doing, so it'd been excellent. Maggie gave their name to the fifty-something receptionist, and in a matter of minutes, the four of them were escorted into an office full of leather and wood and law books.

  The attorney, Robert Barth, came around his desk, offering a hand to each of them in turn.

  "Thank you for coming to the service yesterday," Pru said.

  Kennedy fixed her attention on the man as she shook hands, noting the receding black hair, the faint paunch beneath his well-cut suit. He was close to forty, with laugh lines around his brown eyes. She had no memory of seeing him at the funeral. Then again, a stampede of elephants could've trooped through and she probably would've missed it. Her entire focus had been on Ari, her sisters, and that dreadful, dark hole in the ground.

  "I would've been happy to come to the house."

  "We thought it best to handle things here," Maggie said.

  "Of course, of course. As you wish." Robert gestured toward a small conference table surrounded by six, low-backed leather chairs. "Please, sit. Can I have Marlene make you some coffee? Tea?"

  Maggie and Athena declined. Pru asked for coffee. Kennedy would've given her right arm for a properly-steeped cup of Irish breakfast tea, but she figured that the best on offer here would be weak tea bags, so she demurred as well, grabbing a chair at random and sinking in.

  After rummaging around his desk for a moment, Robert came to join them. "I still can't believe she's gone. You know, I was one of her first fosters?"

  Pru jolted. "Oh? I didn't realize."

  "It's been a long, long time. I was with her for about nine months, while my mother went through rehab and got her life back together."

  "You were able to go home again?" Athena asked.

  "I was."

  "Lucky," she murmured.

  Kennedy wanted to reach out a hand to her sister. Athena hadn't been able to go home, and she'd never fully gotten over it. But at the opposite end of the table, Athena was out of reach. She wouldn't have appreciated the gesture anyway.

  "Joan always kept tabs on me," Robert continued, smiling a bit in memory. "Came to my high school, college, and law school graduations. She gave me my first briefcase. Anyway, I've been handling her legal affairs ever since."

  Memory lane. Everybody at the reception yesterday had wanted to walk down it, share their story for how Joan had come into their lives, how she’d improved it. There were so, so many stories. The fact that there’d be no more made Kennedy heartsick. The world wasn’t ready to do without her. Kennedy wasn’t ready to do without her.

  Evidently sensing they were ready to get down to business, Robert cleared his throat and unfolded the papers in his hand. "Joan had me draw up her will years ago, with modifications as each of you were formally adopted. I'll just read it through, then address any questions you may have."

  He launched in. By the second line of legalese, Kennedy was already tuning out. She'd always had a crappy attention span, especially for things that had unnecessarily formal or complicated language. It was part of the reason she'd done so poorly in school. If not for Pru and Maggie, the chances of her graduating at all would’ve been pretty slim. College hadn’t even been on her radar, and she’d much preferred all the hands-on learning she’d done over the past ten years. Still, none of that had adequately prepared her to understand any of this.

  Realizing Robert had finished reading, Kennedy struggled to focus. “I’m sorry. I’m having a little trouble concentrating. Could you sum that up in plain English?”

  “Of course. She’s bequeathed a lengthy and specific list of items to you and your sisters, as well as various other friends or former fosters. I’ll certainly provide you with that list. As you know, y’all are her only family, so the house and acreage it sits on, as well as the trust that has covered most of the upkeep on the property, is left to the four of you, equally. The property has been in Reynolds hands since the mid-1800s, so she was very clear that it go to y’all.”

  So home would remain home. That was good.

  “What about the lien?” Maggie asked.

  “Lien?” Kennedy asked.

  “A few years ago, the house needed some significant repairs. Mom took out a sizable loan against the property to do it. At that time, there was no reason to think she wouldn’t be around to see that it was fully paid off before we inherited.”

  “Wouldn’t the trust cover that?” Athena asked.

  “She didn’t want to pull that much out at that time.” Maggie shrugged. “It was her decision. I didn’t question it.”

  “Officially, the estate will go into probate until any debts are settled,” Robert explained. “Depending on how complicated things are, that can take anywhere from a few months to years.”

  “Does that mean the house just sits until things are settled?” Pru asked, aghast.

  “There’s no reason you can’t continue to use the house, if that’s what you want. Another option would be to sell the property. That would satisfy the debt outright.”

  “No.” They all but shouted it in unison.

  Robert smiled. “Glad to hear it. As executor, I’ll obtain a current copy of all the loan paperwork, find out the outstanding balance, and the like. And I’ll follow up on everything else to do with Joan’s estate—her retirement accounts, life insurance, the trust, and other assets, etc.—to see that things are settled as easily as possible and with as little fuss for you as necessary. And, of course, I’ll keep you apprised every step of the way.”

  “So, if we want to keep the property, we have to see that the lien is paid, correct?” Maggie asked.

  “At the end of it all, yes.”

  “Okay. Then we need to make a plan that enables us to do that, and to manage upkeep on the place, as well as property taxes, etc.”

  Kennedy had no idea how they’d do such a thing, especially as they weren’t all actually staying in Eden’s Ridge. She couldn’t see Maggie leaving LA or Athena walking away from her Michelin-starred restaurant in Chicago. And even if she herself stayed, what help could she really be? She didn’t have Maggie’s business mind or Pru’s deep connection to the community or even Athena’s drive. All she had to offer was a strong back and a willingness to pitch in however she could. She just hoped it would be enough.

  “With the probate, you have time to sort it out,” Robert assured them.

  Well, thank God for that. “What about Ari?” Kennedy asked. “Are there any provisions for her in the will?”

  With a look of regret, Robert shook his head. “I know she intended to add her once the adoption was finalized, but it didn’t get that far. I’m afraid her fate is in the hands of the state.”

  “We’ll add it to the agenda for the family meeting,” Maggie said. She gathered her coat. “We appreciate everything Robert. If you’ll forward me copies of all the financials to go over as you get them, I’d be much obliged.”

  “Happy to.”

  He passed on copies of the list so they could begin locating and distributing assorted mementos to their respective recipien
ts. And then they were out of the office, back into the chilly March sunshine.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” Athena said.

  Mouth set in a grim line, Maggie just shook her head. “It’s only just beginning.”

  ~*~

  “I heard down at the Snort and Curl she still has a voice like an angel.” The voice of Esther Vaughn, administrative assistant and dispatch for the Stone County Sheriff’s Office—definitely not an angel—echoed through the air duct to where Xander was just shutting the back door of the building.

  At the sound of it, the nagging headache throbbing behind his eyes ratcheted up a notch. If the beauty shop was already talking about Kennedy’s return, it was only a matter of time before he started getting harassed about it. He wasn’t in the mood. His sleep had been interrupted to take a call about a prowler skulking around Elvira’s Tavern at two in the morning. The prowler had turned out to be a bear digging through the dumpster out back. By the time Xander had made it home again, he couldn’t go back to sleep.

  “A damned shame about her mama.” This from Jarvis Riley, their jail administrator. He’d been a few years ahead of Xander in school.

  “Wait, now. Who is this woman?” Chief Investigator Leanne Hammond. The new girl.

  Essie sighed in that way Xander had seen her do over the romance novels she kept in her desk for lulls. He knew where this was going, so he quickened his pace and strode into what constituted the bullpen, glaring at the cluster of his coworkers. “She’s talking about my high school girlfriend. Because, in case you haven’t figured it out in the last six months, not enough happens around here for people to talk about more current events.”

  “Kennedy’s back in town after how long? That is a current event,” Jarvis argued.

  “The last thing she’s thinking about is me.” And hey, that’s par for the course. At least she has a good reason this time.

  “You’ve seen her then?” Essie asked, not looking in the least embarrassed about being caught gossiping about him.

  “You know I was at the funeral yesterday.” Though seeing her at a distance probably wasn’t what Essie was fishing for.