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“Maybe, but where?”
“Come on.” She tugged on his arm. “We haven’t been looking in the right places.”
Sinjin put the box he carried down on Valerie’s coffee table. Shaking his head, he raked his fingers through his dark hair, then pulled her into his arms. “Breanna, we’ve already scoured every square inch of these rooms.”
“And I’m telling you, we haven’t.”
“We’ve gone through the pages of every book, ransacked the closet, her drawers…”
“Those are the obvious places.” Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, and she gazed up at him, trying to make him see. “Let’s try some not-so-obvious ones.”
“Like?”
I don’t know… “You have to think like she did, Sinjin, and you knew her better than most.”
He paced around her grandmother’s living room, eyes combing the shelves they’d already searched. Sinking into a chair facing the unlit fireplace, he stared straight ahead.
“Ice cream.” Abruptly, Sinjin stood and walked over to the mantel. “Strawberry ice cream.”
“I’m not following…”
“Didn’t your mom say that’s what Valerie gave you at the pool when you were in Tahoe?” he asked, the photo of her at Venice Beach in his hands.
“Yeah, but…”
“What are you holding in this picture?”
“A strawberry ice cream cone.” Out of nowhere, tears rushed to fill her eyes. “Sinjin, you don’t think…”
Breanna watched him carefully remove the backing from the frame, and there, behind the photo, was a key taped to a letter.
“Just like her to leave instructions.” Passing her the handwritten note, he chuckled. “I knew it. The bulk of the estate is in a trust. The original documents are in a safe deposit box in Sacramento.”
“What made you look there?”
“You told me to think like her.” He shrugged. “Your grandmother would sit in this chair every day and look at that picture of you.”
And the tears that filled her eyes broke free.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Rubbing circles on her back, Sinjin held her. “Everything’s going to be all right now, princess.”
After a quick stop at River City Bank, and then the courthouse, Dalton House was safe from Derek. And so was Breanna. With the probate and trust documents filed, they were a matter of public record now, and there wasn’t a thing his cousin could do about it.
Ian glanced at the white bakery box in the passenger seat and smiled. He’d stopped at Hank’s, getting one of his wife’s banana cream pies to bring home to her. He checked in on her car at the shop, too. Looking better than new, they told him she’d be good to go by the end of the week. What would Breanna do then? Stay? Go to LA? Portland? He understood she had another semester to go, but her graduation in May seemed so far away.
She was in the kitchen with Francie, watching her wrap a nice tenderloin in puff pastry. “Beef Wellington, Auntie?” he asked, kissing her on the cheek.
“Mmhm, and there’s truffle mashed potatoes, arugula salad, green beans, and fresh-baked bread to go with it.” Francie didn’t even bother glancing up when she asked him, “Everything go okay?”
“Yeah, it’s done.”
“Thank goodness,” she replied, letting out a breath.
“Stopped at Hank’s.” With a wink, Ian kissed Breanna’s cheek and set the bakery box on the counter. “Picked up dessert.”
“Is that a banana cream pie?”
“Could be.” He grinned. “Checked on that damn girly car of yours, too. It should be ready by the end of the week.”
