discovered a packet of letters, uh, and a passport. They all bear the name Norma Marsh. A friend of mine said Norma’s the first name of the Mrs. Santini who lives here. So I came to find out if the letters—love letters, I believe—belong to her.”
The man let go of the door and walked outside. His presence forced April to take a step down toward the car. Rain spattered in her eyes, making her blink.
“Save your breath,” he said icily. “Tell Daniel Mattingly it’s a good try, but I won’t be bribed, nor will I cave in to any attempts at blackmail.”
“Who’s Daniel Mattingly?” April held up a hand to the rain. “All the letters are signed by a man named Heinz von Weisenbach.”
“Come on, Ms. Trent. It won’t fly, so give it a rest.” His beautiful lips curled and he advanced, forcing April down two more steps before the white-haired woman moved into the doorway and said in a low voice, “Quinn, stop. Invite her in. I need, ah, would like to hear more of what she has to say.”
The man came to a halt. “Gram?” He glanced from the woman below him to the one behind him.
The older woman’s fingers clutched the shoulders of the little girl. But her hazel eyes reflected a mix of shock and concern. As Mrs. Santini released one hand, her fingers shook noticeably as she crushed the throat of her wool dress. “Hayley,” she said, obviously speaking to the child, “would you go upstairs and play? Your father and I need a private word with…Ms. Trent, is it?”
April nodded. The too-handsome man she now knew was Quinn Santini glared at her, then pushed back his sleeve and transferred his glare to a gold watch. “I’m already late for an important gathering, Gram. Can’t this wait?”
Mrs. Santini bit her lower lip and shook her head.
Seeing an advantage, April took it. She swept past Quinn and approached the stiff-backed yet elegant woman. “So the letters are yours? Yes, now that I see you in the light, there’s a resemblance to the woman in the passport photograph.”
April felt Quinn Santini’s breath on the back of her neck, above the rain-wet collar. It was all she could do not to shudder and spin to face him. Instead, she kept her eyes on his grandmother.
The little girl danced around on her toes. “Daddy, do I have to go upstairs? You said Gram and I could watch a DVD.”
“Please, Quinn, come in out of the rain. You’re both getting soaked.” Norma Santini beckoned her grandson and April into the house. “Ms. Trent may hold the key to a mystery that’s haunted me for years. And I…would…really like a glass of sherry while we speak.”
The man muttered, half to himself, “I don’t want dealings of any kind with anyone named Trent. If Coleman or Miles Trent sent her, she’s as likely as not to be a sneaky reporter, if not worse.”
April tossed her head. “I’m not! A reporter, that is. Cole is my father, and Miles and Roger are my brothers. I promise none of them have any inkling I found letters at my farmhouse. Well, n-not unless Eric blabbed.” It was April’s turn to stutter breathlessly as the possibility of Eric doing just that occurred to her. “Uh, that w-would be Eric Lathrop.”
“Lathrop?” Quinn hustled April none too gently inside and slammed the door. “I’m tired of being hounded by reporters. If you’re mixed up with Lathrop, I believe I’ll call the cops and have you charged with harassment.”
“Quinn! Enough!” His grandmother stood in front of a crackling blaze behind a fireplace screen. In the flickering light, she appeared pale and quite fragile. So much so, April wished she hadn’t come here at all.
“Mrs. Santini, I swear,” April said, “if the letters are yours, I want nothing—”
“Be quiet,” Quinn bellowed. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Hayley, please do as Gram asked,” he said, softening his tone as he addressed his daughter. “Go up and play with your dolls for a little bit, okay, hon? I’ll come and get you when we’re finished here and you can spend the rest of the evening with Gram.”
As the pretty blond child flounced across the room and stomped petulantly up the curved white staircase, April almost smiled. Quinn’s impatience was very evident in his daughter.
However, it was a noticeably less aggressive man who led his grandmother to a chair flanking the fireplace. He left her and crossed to a bar, pulling out a bottle of Harveys Bristol Cream and pouring a glass, which he carried over to his grandmother. He neither offered April a seat, nor a glass of the sherry.
After a bracing sip, Norma recovered sufficiently to display a steelier persona. “Quinn, perhaps you ought to cancel your meeting. Young woman,” she said, leveling April with a haughty stare, “I’m prepared to negotiate a fair price. Why don’t you start by stating how much you want? Whatever I pay will include return of the letters, and I’ll expect your complete silence regarding their contents.”
“Grandmother, we’re not paying one red cent! Will you please tell me what the hell’s going on?” Quinn stepped between the two women, his stance fully protective of his grandmother and combative toward April.
That’s it! She’d had it with this family. Regardless of how much she’d like to hear the ice queen’s answer to her grandson’s question, April resented the implication that she’d come here to shake anyone down. She felt she had every right to the indignation that propelled her out the hand-carved door. And it was definitely satisfying to slam that door hard enough to hear the leaded-glass window rattle.
It was now dark, and the trees around her were deeply shadowed. She ran down the wet, winding drive, holding her breath until she made it through the open gate and climbed into the safety of her battered pickup. She wrenched the key in the ignition, her fingers unsteady. The whole ordeal had shaken her.
Let the letters rot in Robyn’s safe for all she cared. Likewise, her friend was more than welcome to Turner County’s most eligible bachelor—the jerk.
April forgot to turn on her windshield wipers until she reached the end of Santini’s street and realized the world outside her window was one big blur.
All she could think of at the moment was that no way in hell would Quinn Santini get her vote in the November election.
Chapter 2
“Quinn, don’t let her leave. Please catch her.” His grandmother half rose from her chair. Her glass wobbled, and some of the sherry splashed over the edge, onto the long sleeve of her dress.
“Let her go, and good riddance. If I leave now, I can probably still get to Representative Hoerner’s cocktail party. I’ll bring Hayley downstairs first. We did shuffle her off without much explanation.” Quinn headed for the staircase, but his grandmother called him back.
“I really need you to go after that young woman, Quinn.” When he scrutinized her intensely, Norma averted her gaze. Her lips trembled. “The letters she mentioned…It’s important…well, suffice it to say I’d like to have them in my possession.”
“Securing the letters is more important than meeting Sam Hoerner’s handpicked supporters? I’ve got a narrow lead in today’s poll.”
“Politics.” She pursed her lips. “I begged you not to get involved, Quinn.”
“I’ve
