Page 28 of The Moment He Couldn’t Walk Away

“You’ll need to watch that waistline,” Nina muttered.

After pouring herself a large glass of wine, she found the scissors in her kitchen drawer and went to open the shoebox.

Sitting on the sofa, she took a large fortifying sip of wine. Then she cut the red tape and opened the lid. There was another note on top. As she lifted it, she saw what was underneath.

Money—lots of money. She stared at it, shocked. Nina reached for the envelope, which was just like the one she’d received in Circle Left, opened it, and pulled out the letter, unsure how much more her heart could take today.

I know this is all hard for you to grasp, my beautiful girl, but I need you to understand that this money didn’t come from him. Two days after they sentenced your father, his family gave it to me so I could survive until he was released. I saved it for you, Nina. Follow your dreams, and know I will always love you, xx.

Chapter 8

“At least he hasn’t run away this time.”

Finch let out an unmanly yelp at the words. Turning, he found his sisters and a niece. “Shit, Blue, my heart nearly stopped.”

He was down the back of his parents’ property, inspecting the chicken enclosure on a frigid winter morning. While his parents normally preferred the hens to be roaming all over the property, they liked them enclosed during the colder months.

“You trying to find Cluck Norris’s escape route?” Birdie asked.

“I am.”

Apparently, there was a rogue hen who didn’t seem to understand that it was too cold for her to wander around in the garden in these temperatures. Cluck Norris, as their father called the escapee, had found a way out, and now Finch had to locate the hole and fix it.

“It’s freezing out here.”

“Then go back inside and leave me in peace, Blue Jay,” he told her.

He’d worked at the Beckers’ for five days, and much as he loathed to admit it, Finch felt better for the experience, if not the continual counseling from Klaus and any other local who drove through for coffee.

Yesterday Larry Limpet had told him to start fishing, as it cleared the head, which had surprised Finch because from what he remembered of the man, he wasn’t a sociable type. He’d then further shocked him by offering to take Finch out in his boat.

“How are you finding the work on the coffee hut extension?” Blue asked instead of taking his advice.

“I’d rather not be doing it,” he said.

“You’re still standing, aren’t you, so what’s the problem?” she retorted, lowering her daughter, who she was carrying, to the ground.

“Finch, be nice,” Birdie, the family peacemaker, said.

“Hey, Chloe, come and give Uncle Finch a hug so I don’t wrap my hands around your mom’s neck and squeeze.”

The little girl walked his way, giving him a wide smile. She lunged at him in her one-piece puffy yellow ski suit, and he picked her up, then threw her into the air, which produced a shriek of laughter.

This was one reason he’d never regret coming home. He got to spend time with his sisters’ kids, who loved him unconditionally and, unlike their parents, didn’t hound him with questions he had no answers for.

“Jay thinks that shriek could pierce an eardrum,” Blue said.

“He’s not wrong,” Finch agreed, settling Chloe against his shoulder. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed. “What is that on your head, Blue?”

She patted the ear flaps of her brown hat, which looked like something a hunter would wear. “Jay got it for me because I was always moaning about having cold ears.”

“Or, he was playing a bad joke on you, and you fell for it,” Finch said.

His sisters were opposites in personality, but there were physical resemblances, like hair color. Blue was taller, strong-willed and opinionated. Birdie was softer and didn’t like conflict.

“How are you, Finch?” she asked.

“Where are your other kids?” he asked instead of answering Birdie.