Page 77 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

He studied the image a long time. “He doesn’t look familiar.” He looked up. “Should he?”

“He lived in Coventry when you did.”

“It was a vacation home for us. We didn’t know many of the locals.”

After handing the photograph to the woman—she gave no reaction to it—he focused on the photo of her mother.

This time, Aspen caught a flicker of recognition.

It was a long moment before he spoke. “This is the woman who…” He looked up, held Aspen’s gaze a long time. “This is your mother?”

She nodded.

“Do you know the story about the lumber company?”

“Yes. But, before my father died, he said something that made me think there was a connection to your house. He’d bought it, which was odd enough.”

“Why would that be odd? It’s a great house.”

“Because we lived in Hawaii.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh, I see. And he didn’t tell you why?”

“No. He was hit by a car. I only had a few moments to speak to him before they intubated him. He didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The man peered at the picture again. “The explosion happened in the spring. We’d been there that month, mostly because we needed to check in with the contractor, but he was an older guy. And that was before the explosion. And your parents would’ve been kids at that point, right?”

“They were twenty.”

“I can’t imagine how they could have been connected to us.” He held the photos out to Aspen. “I wish I could help.”

She took them, trying to keep disappointment from showing on her face, and stood. “I’m sorry to have intruded.”

He pushed to his feet. “We love having company. You know it’s bad when you eagerly anticipate a visit to the proctologist.” He laughed at that, shooting a look at his wife.

She still wore that mild, empty expression.

Despite Aspen’s chuckle, the man deflated a little. “Anyway, it was no bother. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Aspen made her way past the people in the hallway and out into the cold morning air.

There had to be some reason why Dad had bought that house, but Aspen was beginning to think she’d never figure out what it was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Aspen wasn’t ready to go back to Coventry. After she left the retirement home, she drove south to Manchester, ate a crisp salad with grilled chicken at a restaurant where not a soul stared at her, and then continued to a place Garrett had told her about, armed with all the information she needed for the countertop.

She walked rows and rows of granite slabs leaning against what must’ve been incredibly sturdy racks. She recalled Garrett’s design for her kitchen, a design she’d instantly loved, and looked for a slab that matched it.

It was ridiculous how many shades there were. Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the Granite State, after all.

She finally settled on a creamy color with veins of light gray, taupe, and beige running through it. It would be perfect for the island, and there was enough to do the other countertops as well. She gave the clerk the specifications Garrett had printed for her, adding his phone number to the top of the paper. “If you have any questions, call him. He’s in charge.”

“You got it,” the guy said.

She handed over her credit card, trying not to wince at the price. She’d get it back when she sold. She had a lot of problems in her life at that moment, but fortunately, money wasn’t one of them.

That chore done, she headed for the mall, where she purchased a new laptop to replace the one that had been stolen. Then she headed for a department store and found a pair of flannel pajamas, some wool socks, and a knit cap, along with a few sweaters and turtlenecks. She threw in a pair of long underwear, just to be on the safe side.

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