Page 12 of One Last Goodbye

Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Of course. I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry.”

She laughs and pats my hand affectionately. "Oh, Mary! You're so adorably proper! Of course, you did! Just as I meant to gossip! We're two old British birds, Mary. There's no point in hiding our nature. Besides, I only said that's enough for now. We have many conversations to look forward to, and I have three decades of gossip to share. I won't pretend that I'm going to hide anything from you for long."

I hide my disappointment well, I think. I would rather not wait for the gossip, but I suppose patience is a virtue I must learn to possess. “I look forward to many engaging luncheons with you, Sophie.”

The rest of our conversation is mundane. She talks to me about growing up on a pig farm in Derby. I talk about life as an elementary school teacher in Boston.

It’s not until after lunch is cleared that it occurs to me that I also have chosen to withhold the more interesting facts ofmy life. For example, I don’t mention Annie at all. We are fast becoming friends, but even among extroverted people such as ourselves, some secrets are too dark to reveal.

For a while, at least.

CHAPTER SIX

I received word from Sean sooner than I expected. It's around four that afternoon that my cell phone buzzes. I am sitting on the expansive front porch and enjoying the cool air. I've not seen another living soul since Sophie and I had lunch, so I don't bother concealing my voice when I answer. "Do you have something for me already?"

“Wonderful, Mary, thanks for asking,” he replies drily. “How are you? The cold isn’t freezing your old bones too much, is it?”

I roll my eyes. “The heat from your fiery wit is more than enough to warm even the most decrepit of my bones. Do you have something for me or not?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Thomas Keller is officially their estate manager, but I wager that he has that title only to hide the scope of his real work.”

“Yes, I gathered that already,” I reply patiently.

“What youhaven’tgathered,” he says testily, “is that he has been covering up quite a few financial inconsistencies in Jensen Wealth Management’s portfolio.”

My eyes widen. I sit up straighter in my chair and ask, “Has Frederick been embezzling money?”

“I haven’t got all the details yet. But I think Thomas might be somewhat more than just a gopher.”

“How do you mean?”

"Well, it turns out that Thomas has connections to many different banks around the world. These include banks in the Grand Cayman Islands, Haiti, Switzerland, of course, Kazakhstan, and Taiwan."

“Kazakhstan? Why Kazakhstan?”

He chuckles. “You’re so shrewd that sometimes I forget how innocent you are. As I said, I don’t have all the details, but Ibelieve a more appropriate title for Thomas than estate manager would be money launderer.”

“Goodness!”

“Not the word I’d use. In any case—”

I hear laughter and whisper, “Hush!” I look up and see Catherine walking up the drive arm in arm with a man—not her husband. The children follow behind, and even from this distance, I can see their displeasure. “I’ll call you back.”

“No need. I’ll call you when I have—”

I hang up and put my phone away just in time to avoid detection. Catherine lifts her face to mine, and I note that she wears a genuine smile and appears relaxed for the first time since I met her.

“Mary! I’m so glad I caught you. Allow me to introduce my dear friend, Hugo Van Doren.”

Hugo is a tall, classically handsome Dutch fellow with wispy blonde hair—though I suspect at his age the color is no longer natural—and clear blue eyes. He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “Enchanted. Really, Catherine, you didn’t warn me that she would be so beautiful.”

“Oh, stop!” Catherine replies, giggling as though the compliment was extended to herself. She slaps Hugo lightly on the shoulder, and I am immediately certain that the two of them are romantically involved.

That explains quite a lot.

“Mary, would you be so kind as to join us for dinner? The children asked if you would. They must like you.”

I glance at the children’s sullen faces and doubt very much that this was their idea. Then again, Catherine definitely didn’t seem to care for me before now, so I doubt it was her idea. “I would love to,” I reply.

---