Page 45 of The Aura Answer
Evie elbowed Jax. This was where lawyer talk was needed. Or maybe just man talk.
“But the exchange involved Block’s already mortgaged properties and people living on them.” Jax completed the judge’s thoughts. “So you couldn’t move the Walkers or whoever to new homes.”
“If I thought the developer meant to build an asset to the community... I might have worked it out somehow,” the judge admitted. “But he has a bad reputation. And while the trial was going on, I didn’t think it ethical to deal with Block’s properties, even if they were inside a corporation. The whole thing seemed suspect to me. But now...” He shook his head in sorrow.
Had the pressure to sell gone up?
Evie politely didn’t say Arthur Block was no loss to the community. He was a loss, in his own way, and he’d been Toby’s dad. It still made no sense to kill the man who could make the deal happen—exceptnow that Block’s death ended the trial, there were no ethical barriers to the sale.
“I hate to say this...” She hesitated, knowing the judge was open-minded but probably not open-minded enough to believe his father was talking to her from beyond. “But if people in the way of this land deal are being driven off... Your mother may be in some danger.”
Surprisingly, Satterwhite nodded agreement. “That’s why I want her removed to a retirement home in the city, where she’dbe surrounded by security. My kids live in Charleston. They’ll look in on her.”
“And yourself?” Jax asked.
The judge opened his jacket. “I’m carrying a gun these days.”
Seventeen
With Christmas music blaring,baking aromas filling the air, and the children bouncing like crickets, Gracie gave up on writing. Joining in the holiday spirit, she helped Loretta swathe the staircase with fake evergreen boughs they found in the attic. Aster and the twins “helped” by pulling off old tinsel and relocating it to the Christmas tree.
“Is this the lead kind of tinsel?” Loretta whispered as shiny shreds fell on the stairs and the hall below.
“Lead? There’s lead in tinsel?” Alarmed, Gracie studied the mess they were making. “Is that why they quit making it?”
Loretta nodded solemnly. “This is really old garland.”
“Like everything else in here.” With a sigh, she began scooping up the threads and pulling them off before the kids could make any more depredations. “Our parents survived lead tinsel... Although maybe they’d have been a lot smarter if they hadn’t inhaled the dust.”
Pris appeared in the hallway below. “Soup’s on. Someone want to take some out to that poor idiot freezing in the garage?”
Nick had been out there framing sketches all morning. Gracie didn’t know what to make of the man, but he’d already carried the requested picture down to her mother’s Psychic Solutionsshop. She thought Reuben had printed business cards for him so he could install one in the frame. She wasn’t certain why he’d do that.
For now, she assumed he was avoiding the high octane excitement building in the house as presents grew under the tree, and the kids shrieked and bounced off walls.
“I’ll do it,” she offered, not out of generosity, but because she wanted something. That made it all right, didn’t it? She wasn’t interested in him or anything, except as a partner in crime. He seemed to understand her need to help.
She untangled Alex, Nan, and Aster from the tree, helped them clean up, and led them into the kitchen where Loretta was already presiding over the breakfast nook. Pris had Dante pounding out his frustration on bread dough. The archeologist was almost healed and stewing in frustration at his inability to start the dig on the twins’ newly inherited farm. Apparently permits and grants and legal whatnot were needed before he could proceed.
Leaving the children in their hands, Gracie carried a giant soup cup and fresh bread out the back and over to the garage.
The Brit had hooked up an electric heater near his workbench, where several old frames leaned in various stages of renovation. Cheap gilding had been stripped off the more ornate ones. Several deep-set frames had been sanded and repainted, and he already had a print matted in one of them.
“You work fast.” She set the tray down on the bench. “Wouldn’t you rather come in and warm up?”
“Not cold.” He was wearing only an open flannel shirt over a turtleneck, with a wool scarf dangling down his... nicely sculpted... chest. He stepped back to admire his work. “What do you think?”
“They look like real art instead of Bertie’s scribbling,” she admitted, admiring the result. “And those frames are worth something now that they’re prettied up?”
“These aren’t shoddy, stapled plywood from China.” He hefted a dry, newly stained one and showed it to her. “If you went to a frame shop, this would set you back a pretty penny. Solid wood, mitered construction, your family bought good stuff.”
“That would be Val. She tended to marry rich men. The rest of us, not so much. I don’t know where you’ll find customers willing to pay more than Wal-Mart prices.” She held up the sketch of the children in the schoolyard. “Won’t they need glass?”
“To protect the work, sure, but the kind is up to the customer. If they want glass, I can arrange it, but it will cost extra. And we’re not selling these to discount store customers. I’m working out a website on Reuben’s computer. I understand why your family doesn’t want an auction, so I’m keeping the location of these secret by selling direct from the website. Reuben’s set up a mailbox address in the city so it looks legit.”
“No one can trace the mailbox address? That’s like, one of those storefronts that give you a street address and hold your mail?” She fretted over the deceit and who might see through it.
“Yup. Website requires a street address. We’re good. Quit worrying. I know we’re not talking fortunes, but if nothing else, Bertie will receive some well-deserved recognition. Once the website is ready, I’ll send press releases to local media.”
