Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Griffen froze, completely unprepared for her demand. Fix it? After what they’d done to him, his family should be falling to their knees in gratitude. He’d turned his entire life upside down to save the town. Save their fortune. Instead, they’d stormed out of Harvey’s office like Griffen was the villain. He wasn’t the one who needed to fix things.
I tried to cover my grumble with a bite of cookie. I wasn’t fooling anyone. Griffen gave me a curious look, but Martha knew what I was thinking.
“Maybe it isn’t his fault, but it’s his responsibility, girl. He’s the only one left.”
I knew what she meant. Ford had tried. He really had. In some ways, he’d succeeded. But Ford wasn’t Griffen.
Griffen decided to ignore both of us. He repeated his earlier question. “Why did you leave Heartstone Manor?”
Miss Martha threw her head back, her whole body shaking with mirth. When she was done, she met Griffen’s eyes dead-on. “I left because your daddy was a bastard and no paycheck was worth putting up with him for one day longer.”
Griffen shook his head, trying not to smile. “I can’t argue with you about that. Who’s been looking after the house since you quit?”
“He’s had day staff in and out, mostly out, but what I hear from Sterling, the place is a mess.”
“You see Sterling?” I asked, curious. Sterling didn’t seem to have much on her mind aside from having a good time, but Miss Martha was the closest thing she had left to a mother.
Miss Martha let out a gusty sigh. “That girl. Only thing I regret about walking out of Heartstone.”
“Would you consider coming back?” Griffen asked, avoiding the mention of his youngest sister.
Curiosity lighting her gray eyes, Miss Martha leaned forward. “You’re really staying?”
Griffen nodded.
“And what are you doing with Hope? What kind of situation do you have, Griffen Sawyer?”
Before Griffen could answer, I said, “The kind of situation we can’t discuss if you aren’t willing to take the job.”
Miss Martha gave another harrumph, but she didn’t push. With a slow, almost regretful shake of her head, she said, “I’m tempted to say yes just to find out what you’re hiding, but I can’t do it. I’m enjoying my retirement, spending time with my grandson and in the garden. I love that house, but it’s too much for me to take on.”
“What about Savannah?” I asked. “She knows the house. And if we can’t have you—”
Tires crunched on the gravel drive and Miss Martha smiled. “You can ask her yourself. She just got off her shift at the Inn.”
Chapter Seven
Hope
I heard Savannah’s voice before the door opened, her tone low and soothing. She strode in with a toddler propped on one hip and an oversized tote slung over her shoulder. Her strawberry blonde curls were falling out of their bun, a halo of frizz around her flushed face.
Her white button-down was stained with something pink and a smear of green. Looked like her shift in the Inn restaurant had been a long one. Long and messy. She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted us at her mother’s kitchen table.
“Hope,” she said in surprise. “What are you—” Her eyes fell to Griffen and widened. “Griffen? Griffen Sawyer?”
Distracted, she set her son on his feet as Griffen pushed back his chair and crossed the kitchen to give Savannah a hug.
They wouldn’t have known each other well as Savannah was younger than me, only ten when Griffen had left home. Still, she was Miss Martha’s girl and had been underfoot at Heartstone Manor before she could walk.
“Are you back for your father’s service? We were sorry to hear—” Miss Martha’s snort cut her off, and Savannah slanted her mother a quelling look.
After a lifetime dealing with Prentice Sawyer, Miss Martha wasn’t easily quelled. Griffen shook his head and went down on his haunches, holding his hand out to Savannah’s son, who studied him with curiosity.
Absently, he said to Savannah, “I appreciate the sentiment, but you’d be the only one if you meant it.” To the boy, he said, “I’m Griffen. What’s your name?”
The boy stuck out his hand cautiously. “My name’s Nicky.”
Griffen’s hand closed around the smaller one and shook solemnly. “It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.”
Savannah’s gray eyes, so like her mother’s, bounced between Martha, Griffen and me.
Griffen stood and looked pointedly at Miss Martha. “Unless you’re willing to sign an NDA, we’ll need to talk to Savannah in private.”
Miss Martha rolled her eyes but stood, holding out her hand to Nicky and mumbling under her breath, “You know I can keep a secret, Griffen Sawyer.” Not waiting for a response, she took her grandson’s hand and led him out of the kitchen.
“What’s this about?” Savannah asked. “Can I get y’all anything? I’m dying for a cup of that coffee.”
“Your mother already took care of us,” I said, gesturing to the tray on the table. “We’ve got some time. Get whatever you need.” Savannah fixed herself a cup of coffee and joined us at the table, snagging one of her mother’s molasses cookies.