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Dean stepped away from the counter.

“Lorrie.”

“No.” I looked at Martin. “If my name is on something connected to Alan Ellsworth moving client money around, I want to know.”

Martin studied me, and I had the unpleasant feeling he was deciding how much truth a frivolous young woman could handle. He finally pulled a small notepad from the folder.

“These are notes tied to several conversations and memoranda.”

“I don’t care.”

He read carefully.

“After Friday. Hale Trust. Plenty of liquidity.’”

For a moment the room spun as I felt Dean watching me.

“What else?”

He didn’t answer.

“I said, what else?”

“Marriage.”

I stopped breathing and for one impossible second, I was back with Paul holding my hand.

I want to take care of you.

Then at dinner.

We should talk about practical matters after the wedding.

My father and Alan talking behind closed doors, my mother’s careful plans, Paul’s mother discussing Friday as if my answer were a mere formality.

A trust I hadn’t known about. I’d always known my grandparents had left my mom a great deal of money but I’d never asked how much. That would have been considered vulgar.

I pulled out the chair and sat as Dean moved toward me.

I held up one hand. “Don’t.”

He stopped and Martin Vale, investigator, closed the folder.

“As I said, I don’t know what those references mean.”

I laughed once, although nothing about it was funny.

“Really?”

“There are several possibilities.”

“Give me one that doesn’t involve Alan Ellsworth counting money he expects to get after his son marries me.”

Marin didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

My stomach rolled. Paul had known about the trust. I remembered the way he’d avoided my question when I asked about finances, his careful insistence that we could discuss everything later, after we were married.

At the time, I’d thought it was another example of Paul believing complicated things could be handled when the appropriate moment arrived, and that I didn’t need to worry my pretty little head about anything.