Cadence’s heart stumbled. “Did you tell him?” He wouldn’t hurt Mirage, would he?

Weston snorted. “Are you kidding? I didn’t trust that dude as far as I could throw him. Every question he asked, I evaded or lied when I answered.”

“Thanks.” Maybe. But what had Weston seen so instantly in Paul to cause such a strong reaction?

“Anything for a friend.”

Unexpected. Moisture in her eyes blurred the trail ahead. Would she have considered Weston Kline a friend of hers? He wouldn’t have made her short list, that’s for sure.

She swiped the dampness away, only then becoming aware that Paisley was no longer in sight. “Why is Paisley mad at you?”

Weston harrumphed. “She’s a stick of dynamite, that one. Always poking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Cadence could attest to that.

“Just gave her a piece of her own medicine, that’s all.”

And there was a story Cadence would need to get to the bottom of.

Chapter Seventeen

Grandfather cleared his throat. “I contacted Eleanor.”

Graham pivoted in his desk chair and stared at the old man. Neither Tate nor Cadence was in the office this late in the day — not that Cadence hardly ever came in since the day he’d proposed. “You what?”

“You heard me, boy.”

Yeah, he had, but that didn’t mean he believed his ears. “Are you meeting up with her?”

“That’s up to her.”

How much harder could Grandfather make this moment? “Tell me what happened.”

“We had a bargain, you and me.”

Graham’s heart sank. “We did.”

“So, if I spill my guts, so will you.”

It wasn’t a question or a request. But it wasn’t like Graham had followed through. He had, but he’d made a total flop of the whole thing. “Yes, sir. You first.”

A glimmer of amusement shone from the old man’s eyes. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that.”

“I know.”

Grandfather let out a long breath. “I asked Nadine for her mother’s contact information. It took her the better part of a week to give it to me.”

“She had to check with Eleanor, first,” Graham guessed.

“Right. Which makes sense, but the delay made me crazy. Once I’d decided to move forward, I wanted to go full-bore.”

Graham had never felt more understanding for his grandfather than at that moment. Wasn’t that what had gone wrong with Cadence? His own impatience? And the fact that he’d leaped over what should have been weeks’ more of talking and getting to know each other.

He was lousy at small talk. He lived for the moment when both columns of numbers matched, not for a bunch of if-then statements. Was Walter Sullivan like that, too? Maybe they were more alike than he’d ever considered.

“What happened after that?” he asked cautiously.

“Eleanor lives in Missoula now. With her son, Nadine’s half-brother.”