A Family for Jason by Virginia McCullough

Author:Virginia McCullough
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-05-09T20:39:17+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

CONTAINER OF LEFTOVER cookies in hand, Ruby approached Mike’s office as a very tall, slender woman came out with Mike. Standing on the sidewalk, they shook hands and the woman walked down the street, her long gray-white hair tousled in the wind.

Before he could go back inside, Ruby called his name.

Mike’s tight smile looked forced. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

“Uh, is this a bad time?”

His expression neutral, he said, “Not exactly. Come in. I’ll explain.”

“I won’t keep you,” Ruby said. “I thought Jason might like the extras. He seemed to really enjoy baking them, not to mention eating them last night.”

“Nice of you to think of him, right.” Mike’s smile changed—sort of.

He was distracted. “Was that your new client?” Ruby asked to change the subject.

“Maggie Hall. The web designer in one of the other offices just like mine.” He pointed down the street. “We had our first meeting.” He grinned—for real—and flexed his biceps. “I’m back. A pro again.”

He eyed the container in her hands. “Do you think Jason would miss one or two of those?”

She held out the plastic box. “Go ahead, have some. I packed plenty. Like I said last night, it’s the same recipe I used years ago.”

“C’mon in, have a cookie,” he said, opening the door to let her in. “Probably best to eat in my office and not sitting at the window.”

She followed him and sat in the chair across from the desk. “True, we wouldn’t want the stodgy new attorney to be seen sitting around munching cookies.”

“I don’t do stodgy too well, or so I’ve been told.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” she said with a laugh.

Instead of sitting in his chair behind the desk, he chose the other client chair and put the container on the desk between them.

“Nice touch.” She pointed to the vintage photos of the resort back in the 1940s. “I like the shots of old River Street, too.” She slipped off her jacket and curled one leg under her, feeling at home. “You’ve done such a great job with this place.”

“With your help,” he said, opening the container and holding it out to her. He glanced at his open computer, obviously preoccupied.

She edged forward in the chair. “You’ve traveled miles away. I should go so you can get back to work.”

That got his attention. “No, no. I mean it, Rubes. Stay.” He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

“If I stay, then you need to tell me what’s going on with you.”

His expression, even his body language, told her he was discouraged. “I hate admitting this, but you were probably right about Bluestone River’s long memory.”

She liked being right, but not this time. “What happened?”

“There’s no smoking gun, so I can’t prove anything,” he said, “but when Kristine Laughlin spotted me she acted surprised.”

Well, that seemed logical. He’d been gone for years. What was Mike’s point? “Tell me more.”

He glanced up to meet her eye. “She said it so publicly, Rubes, and in a certain tone.

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