out of the house at the memorial service. The only person who thought of the Frenchman’s Treasure was Charlotte.
“Maybe Michelle’s death triggered some kind of clue,” Gabby said. “Was there anything in her will?”
“That’s a thought,” Rhoda said. “We should check with the lawyer.”
Zach shot her a glare. He couldn’t believe Rhoda was considering Gabby’s nonsense. “Michelle’s will isn’t public information. The thieves wouldn’t know about it.”
Gabby wasn’t deterred. “Bad guys could have broken into the lawyer’s office and—”
“Forget about the treasure.” He paused to sip his tea. “If I believed there was a real danger from treasure hunters, I wouldn’t leave Charlotte alone in the house.”
“Is that so?” Gabby arched an eyebrow. In spite of being a drenched mess with her hair hanging in limp strands and makeup smearing her cheeks, she managed to look sophisticated. “And I suppose you’re never wrong.”
“Seldom,” he said.
For a long moment, she held his gaze. He recognized the defiance in her dark brown eyes. She wasn’t the sort of woman who was going to take orders and back down. Everything he said, he would have to prove. For the first time, he saw the family resemblance. Gabby was a lot like her great-aunt.
Rhoda stood. “Why don’t you come with me, Gabby? I’ll get you some dry clothes. Then Zach can take you back to the Roost.”
Without looking away from him, she said, “Not on horseback.”
“He’ll take the truck,” Rhoda promised.
Zach watched as the two women went down the hall toward the bedrooms. Gabby was going to be a handful, no doubt about it. He’d been prepared not to like her. During those last difficult months when Michelle’s health was failing, Gabby couldn’t be bothered to visit. And yet, when she heard of her inheritance, she hightailed it across the country to stake her claim.
Before he met her, he was ready to dismiss her as an ungrateful, greedy relation who only wanted to take advantage of her great-aunt’s inheritance. But now, he wasn’t so sure. She had an innocence that seemed real. She wasn’t a great beauty but she carried herself with confidence, even while wearing those sandals.
Dealing with her was going to be complicated. He looked down into his mug of herbal tea and wished it was whiskey. One day at a time, he had to take Gabby one day at a time.
* * *
GABBY FELT ALMOST human after washing her face, dragging a comb through her chin-length hair and changing into dry clothes. On the bottom, she wore a pair of Rhoda’s faded red sweatpants that were Capri-length on her long legs. The zip-up sweatshirt fit just fine on top. Shoes were a problem. Gabby’s feet were at least two sizes larger than Rhoda’s and much too small to fit into a pair of sneakers belonging to Zach. For now, her sandals would have to do.
When she climbed into the passenger seat of Zach’s big, old truck, she was hit by the smell of dirt and wet dog. “Do you have a dog?”
“Three.”
“I’m guessing they aren’t pocket poodles that fit nicely in a Gucci bag.”
“Two hounds for hunting and a border collie named Daphne.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’m surprised Daphne didn’t run up to meet you when you crossed onto my property.”
“Is she a guard dog?”
“She’s a border collie,” he said in a tone that you’d use with a slow learner. “The breed is known for their intelligence.”
“So Daphne probably took one look at me and decided I wasn’t a threat.”
“Yep.”
When he cranked the engine, the radio came on. Of course, it was tuned to a country and western station. She had dozens of more questions, but talking to Zach had thus far proved futile. The man seemed determined to either ignore her or snap her head off every time she opened her mouth. Still, it didn’t hurt to keep asking. “How old is Charlotte?”
“Don’t know,” he said.
“Could we call a truce? I’ve had enough of the strong, silent treatment.”
He shrugged.
“I know you’re lying about not knowing anything about Charlotte,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“Because you care about what happens to the kid. When you said that you’d protect her from treasure hunters, your voice was forceful.” She’d liked his protective, masculine tone. “And your jaw was as hard as steel. You’re not going to let anything bad happen to her.”
“Damn right, I won’t.”
“So, how old is she?”
“Eighteen or nineteen. She stopped going to high school last year. I’m not sure if she graduated.”
The road between the two houses was filled with ruts. The rain had stopped but the tires splashed through puddles as they drove. “Has Charlotte talked to you about her future plans?”
“Nope.”
“Rhoda said her parents were out of the picture. I’m guessing the girl doesn’t have a place to live. Do you think she’d be willing to stay with me for a while?”
“Do you want her to stay?”
“Of course, I do.” Gabby hadn’t expected to find anyone at the Roost, but she was glad to have bumped into a possible cohort, even Crazy Girl. “For one thing, I need all the help I can get.”
“That’s for damn sure,” he muttered.
“For another, I don’t want to kick Charlotte out before she’s ready to go. I appreciate what she did for Michelle.” If Gabby had been closer to her great-aunt, she might have known when her health was failing. “I nursed my other great-aunt Rene in the last years of her life, and I know that caring for the elderly isn’t easy, even when they’re cool like Michelle. I wish I’d been here.”
The first time she heard of Michelle’s death was a phone call from her lawyer, Jason Fox. He’d faxed a copy of the will and Michelle’s last wishes to be cremated and have her ashes spread. Gabby really hadn’t known her great-aunt well enough to grieve, but she’d felt empty, like a part of her was gone. It hadn’t seemed like there was anything left for her to do.
Zach cleared his throat. “Rhoda asked Charlotte if she wanted to stay with us, but she refused.”
“Because of the treasure hunters.”
“She and Michelle were real close,” he said. “It’s going to be hard for her to let go.”
Empathy and understanding from Zach? That was a surprise. “Does Charlotte have other friends? Somebody her own age?”
“She
