Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Eventually, I fall asleep from pure exhaustion, but I don’t dream of portfolios. No, Luna dances her way through my sleep, and it’s better sleep than I’ve had in years.
The next day, I decide to work from home, burying myself in every bit of information I have on the Cartwright estate and then digging into what I can find on Claire.
There’s not a lot.
In shorthand, she’s Thomas’s niece, but only because I’m too confused by greats, grands, and once removed to figure out her actual connection. It doesn’t matter, really, because ‘niece’ is what they’ve always called her. She’s married to Madison, who prefers Mads, and they have a son, Jacob. All things I knew. My research does show that I was correct about Mads being a suit-type, though he’s a mid-level manager, not an accountant like I suspected. From what I can tell, they live on funds from good ol’ Uncle Thomas—their house, cars, Jacob’s piano lessons, and more.
Who gets that kid to sit still long enough to play piano? Poor teacher.
But there’s nothing concerning that I can find. She seems like a woman of means, the same as many others when your family is Cartwright-level wealthy.
“Here, eat something,” Luna tells me as she sets a sandwich on the table next to me. She’s been working on Alphena all day, making little noises as she writes that I’m guessing correspond to the action on pages of her tablet.
“Can’t. I need to figure this out.” I keep tapping away, not sure what I’m hoping to find.
Luna plops into the chair she’s been curled up in all day, sitting on her feet in a way that makes my legs hurt, and takes a bite of her own sandwich. Around the mouthful, she says, “If you don’t eat all day, when Elena puts dinner in front of you, you’re gonna act like a ravenous wildebeest.”
I still don’t reach for the sandwich.
“Your brain needs fuel to figure out whatever you’re trying to figure out. You’re not going to do it if all your brain is saying is ‘feed me’. You’re basically a zombie running on caffeine at this point.”
Okay, that’s a good point. I take a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Claire is the key here. I don’t know why, but her showing up at Oleana’s office and then Elena coming to the museum worry me.”
Luna takes another bite and then sets her sandwich down in favor of her tablet. “Whatever it is, you’ll handle it.”
Her faith in me is reassuring. If only I felt the same way.
She goes back to working, and I watch her for a moment before I do the same.
Pulling up to Elena’s home this time feels just as fraught with possible missteps as it did last time. I’ve researched, planned, and plotted. Luna and I have done everything to address the money and the art and have even gone so far as getting married for real. There should be nothing they can throw at us to ruin this.
But my heart is pounding so hard I can almost feel it bursting through my shirt.
Holding Luna’s hand, I help her out of the car.
“You bring that piss monster with ya this time?” a grouchy voice says.
I look over to see Bernard, the gardener, holding a spray bottle at the ready like he’s a cowboy in the Wild West who’s going to shoot the bank robber when he runs by. My guess? Nutbuster is his version of the bad guy, and he’d do anything to protect his rosebushes from another round of baptism by dog pee.
“No, not this time,” I answer with a forced smile, waving in greeting.
His lip curls in a snarl and then he squirts the water my way with a jerk of his arm. The spray arcs but doesn’t reach me. I think he truly meant for it to, though, which would’ve gotten my favorite suit wet.
“What the fu—”
Luna squeezes my hand. “Thanks again for taking such good care of Peanut Butter last time we were here, Mr. Bernard. I think he misses you too.”
What? There’s no way that’s what the cantankerous old guy is trying to say. But he grunts once more and then walks away, his head hanging low and scanning left and right, as if he’s inspecting every blade of grass.
I look at Luna in shock, and she shrugs. Whispering, she says, “Everybody likes dogs, even grumpy people.”
Elena opens the door before I get the chance to knock. “Hey, you two! Get on in here!” She’s smiling and welcoming, seeming glad to see us, and my heart rate slows incrementally.
She hugs Luna and then me in greeting, making this feel more like a visit to Grandma’s house than a business meeting. Though given how close Elena and Mr. Oleana have been for years, maybe that’s the type of working relationship I can look forward to with Elena too. I can imagine monthly lunches where we go over finances and catch up about our lives. Like friends, blending personal and professional. I know that can work because that’s how Zack and I function too.