until his attorney reads his final will and testament. I know, as well, that he left something from his life for every one of you. There are also clauses that protect the property and the livestock in the event of my death. So...that’s one thing. The other is...we have to decide on spin.”
“Spin?” Mariah asked.
Aaron exhaled. “Well, the information about the autopsy is out. Naturally, in today’s age of instant information and social media, it was inevitable, and some people are going to make a big deal of it. We all know the autopsy revealed he was on drugs. The blood tests made that clear. I saw Marcus that morning—he was fine. In fact, he was in a great mood. What happened to make him relapse after all those years...I don’t know. The thing is, it puts us in a bad light. What good does any of this therapy do if the man who founded the Horse Farm died while on drugs?”
“He didn’t take drugs willingly,” Olivia said firmly.
They were all silent, looking at her. She knew that pitying stare. They all believed she just couldn’t accept it.
To her surprise, Sydney Roux, Drew’s partner in looking after the stables, spoke up, too. He stood to do so; Sydney was an old Tennessean. His grandparents and their grandparents had grown up in the nearby hills. He was a gentleman to the nth degree. He fingered the baseball cap he’d removed when he entered the office as he said, “I can’t believe it, either. I remember I was in my room above the stables one evening when he came by. I’d been drinking a beer and I tried to hide it. He told me, ‘Sydney, I’m an addict. You’re not. Don’t go thinking you can’t have that brew because I stopped by. I’m long past my trigger days.’ And I believe that—just like Olivia believes it. Something happened. Someone tricked him.”
“If only,” Sandra murmured.
“How could we ever find out? How could we prove such a thing?” Mariah asked. “We had cops out here. They searched with us that day.”
“They didn’t find anything!” Olivia said, sitting up straight.
Aaron looked at her. “Right.”
“Don’t you see? They didn’t find anything. They didn’t find heroin, crack or anything else on him—and they didn’t find a needle in his possession. Where were the drugs or the paraphernalia he would have needed?”
Sandra came and sat on the edge of the sofa by her. “Oh, Liv, the acreage here seems to go on forever and we’re surrounded by forests. He could’ve left stuff anywhere on the property and we might never find it. A hundred years from now, when they’re digging the place up to build condos, they might come across a broken needle or something and wonder what the hell?”
“Someone else could have put it in him,” Olivia said stubbornly.
Sandra looked helplessly at Aaron.
“I don’t know what happened and I probably never will. And it doesn’t matter. Marcus was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known,” Aaron said. “The point is how do we handle this?”
“With honesty,” Mariah said. “What other way is there?”
“We downplay it,” Mason insisted. “We tell the truth. We’re honest. But we say that it never happened before—and that is the truth. We say that Marcus had thirty years of clean living, and many people—and animals—benefited because of him. And that we’re continuing on in that fine tradition of faith and belief.”
“Mason,” Mariah said. “That was wonderful! If you get tired of being a therapist, you can go into public relations.”
Olivia nodded. “It really was a good statement.”
“And it’s the truth,” Aaron agreed. “All right, then. We just lie low. When asked, we say that we don’t know what was going on in his mind at the end but that we loved him and he did a world of good. We’ll say that we’ll never forget him or what he gave to others. However, don’t bring up the subject unless you’re asked. So, everyone, have a good night.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Olivia said, rising. “I think what we’ve talked about here is important. We also need to find out what happened.” She looked around at all of them. “Do you honestly think Marcus just had a stash out in the woods? That he had it there for a long time—just in case the day came when he suddenly broke after decades of clean living? We need to pursue the truth.”
“How?” Mariah asked. “We’d need an army to comb the property and the woods. There are just seven of us. The police have other things to do, and we’re not asking clients—some of them addicts—to look for drug paraphernalia!”
“There’s his house,” Olivia said, turning to Aaron. “If his house was searched, we’d at least know he wasn’t using there—or considering it.”
Aaron left out a soft sigh. “I believe that, as of tomorrow, the house will be mine. You can search to your heart’s content, Liv. And if any of us thinks of a forest hidey-hole, we can search that, too. Liv, I don’t know what else to do!”
“I’ve been in his house,” Sydney said. He worked the cap furiously in his hands. “I went to get his suit for the funeral home. I didn’t search the place, but it’s not big, and I sure as hell didn’t see anything that would indicate Marcus had lost it. Of course, that was before they released the autopsy report.”
“Maybe tomorrow night you and I can go back,” Olivia suggested.
“Yeah,” Sandra said. “Oh, Olivia, honey, I know how much you loved Marcus. But what can we possibly prove?”
“That he didn’t fall back on drugs, Sandra! It could mean everything for the Horse Farm.”
“You search his house tomorrow night if you want,” Aaron said. “Olivia, you can do anything that’ll make you feel better, and when you need our help, just say so.”
She had the feeling that what he really meant was emotional help; still, it seemed that Aaron was on her side, and that mattered.
“Thanks,” she told him.
“So the attorney is coming here at ten,” Aaron said. “See you in the morning.”
They all moved. Some of them would get into conversations about Marcus—or about Dustin, Olivia knew.
She didn’t want to get into a conversation.
She drove home. Sammy greeted her and she stroked the dog’s back and spoke to him for a minute before she looked around downstairs.
“Marcus?” she called.
There was no answer. She went up to her room and changed into comfortable sweats, then came back downstairs.
Marcus was there, in the kitchen. “Wish I could’ve put the teakettle on for you,” he told her.
“That would have been nice.” She put the kettle on and leaned against the stove. “Maybe in time,” she said.
“In time!” he protested, then smiled at her. “That’s almost Biblical. A time to reap, a time to sow—and a time to walk into the light. I want to walk into that light, Liv. I’ve seen it. It’s beautiful. I should go there.”
