Page 15 of Deadly Evidence
“His ranch is next to the Remington’s, where your grandfather lives.” Dominga turned to her and gave her hand a comforting pat. “Don’t worry. I cleaned Gilberto’s house for many years, and I trust him. He will treat you well.”
“I’m more nervous about meeting Vicente,” Mia admitted.
“You will be a surprise, but give him time. He’s...well, he’s become crotchety. It might take a little while for him to realize his good fortune.” Dominga smiled. “Please, come see me again before you go back to New York.”
“Of course.” Mia hesitated just a moment before stepping into her great-aunt’s arms for a quick, fierce hug. “I promise I’ll write from now on.”
“Mi muchacha querida.” Dominga’s voice trembled as she held Mia’s arms and searched her face, as if memorizing each detail. “You’re sure you don’t want me to call your grandfather to say you are coming?”
“Nope. Bad things happened between him and my mom, and he might not want to meet me. I don’t want him to disappear before I can get out there.”
“Vicente is a proud man. A difficult man. Give him a chance,sí?He has many gifts, but patience isn’t one of them.”
Mia bent to gather her suitcase and carry-on bag, and tried for a confident smile, though now her insides were quaking.
After Mom’s death on Christmas Day, she’d decided to take spring term off and go to Texas.
She’d found a number and address for only Dominga, but she’d hoped to find a host of relatives who would welcome her into their fold—cousins and aunts and grandparents who would help her find a sense of family and belonging, now that she was alone.
Instead, she’d discovered her only family consisted of one elderly, impoverished great-aunt and a grumpy grandfather.
“I’ll be fine,” she said breezily. “I’ll just stay a few days, and then I’ll be on my way.”
But already her hands were starting to shake as her mother’s last warning echoed through her thoughts.Don’t look for trouble, Mia. Some things are best left alone.
CHAPTER THREE
“When are you coming to see me, Uncle Brady?”
Funny how the child’s voice still had the power to shred away yet another piece of his heart.
Brady closed his eyes and saw the five-year-old’s pale, tear-streaked face the day of his dad’s funeral.
The glimmer of accusation in the eyes of Chuck’s widow, who’d probably wished it had been Brady instead of her husband lying in that casket.
There’d been more than a few times during those early days when the guilt over his friend’s death had overwhelmed him—and when he’d almost wished the same thing.
“Soon, Tyler. I’ll come to visit you soon. Is your mommy there?”
He held the phone away from his ear at the sound of Tyler dropping the phone at the other end of the line, followed by the patter of running feet, a slamming door, and a high-pitched voice squealing, “Mo-om! Mo-om!”
Dante stood at the open doorway of the barn holding his horse’s reins, and glanced at his watch.
“Just a minute,” Brady held up a hand, urging him to wait. “Melissa?”
Her voice came on the line, cool and distant. “Tyler talks about you all the time, Brady. When will you be back in town?”
Since Chuck’s death, Brady had tried to stop by to see the little boy every week and do guy things with him—man to man—though it was hardly enough to replace the daddy he’d lost.
“I’m not sure. At least a month. Did you get the check I sent you?”
He heard her suck a breath through her teeth. “Yes, but you don’t have to do that every month. We can get by.”
Butgetting bywasn’t what she deserved. She deserved a husband coming home to her every night. A father for her son. A comfortable life. And because of Brady, she’d lost all of it.
Looking up, he saw Dante watching him with obvious interest, so he turned away and lowered his voice.
“I want you to have the money. I know you and Chuck were in the midst of fixing up that place of yours, and with that, plus Tyler’s after-school day care, it’s got to be tough. When I get done here, I’ll help finish the basement for you.”
