he lobby. Same thing under the glass roof of the atrium, where palm trees stretched overhead and strange
called was using a burner phone, m
omeone had a copy of her father's last words, and they wanted her to know it. But
re you all ri
look
suit was the sort worn for decades, not just for fashion. His voice was warm, lightly rough, like an old armch
p the feeling
she said
in this building.
. That should've put her on edge, but sitting with
Hart. Benjam
skipped. Y
s was my older brother. I knew your father well. Not as well as
n repeated,
Great man. Nightmarish swing. I once saw
d through her - her father's old notebook, spide
with this man
the first warmth she had felt in months. I came to the funeral, stayed in the
sa
t when
at him. You
always had them in her garden, I remember. He gave her a so
ital gift shop. Someone had been quietly leaving flowers
rs. Thank you, she whi
e. His gaze was steady. Christian mentioned over breakfast you had started at th
ing clien
st in any of this. His smile turned thoughtful. Your father told me once, months before he died, that somethi
yn f
aid
on. His sigh was heavy. If you're really searching, I'd be honored to help. I can open some doors that even m
crawled a private number on the back,
ld you
ore than anyone, and he's holding too much inside. He'll never admit it. Westwoods keep everything and sha
e weight on her chest eased just a little. Here was a man who had known her father,
oved them both. Everyone thinks your father and my brother were rivals - enemies even. Not true.
very article called Thomas Westwo
y. The one on the bookshelf behind his desk. He looked at her
who nodded back, moving with the eas
, thinking about the door she had just been handed. And jus
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