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“Yes, I believe Lou mentioned him once,” Maggie said. She saw a shadow of the boys outside, chatting in the garden. “Wealthy, isn’t he?”

“He was very wealthy, yes, and he never married, so he had no heirs except for us.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. “So, you’re a rich pastor?”

“Oh, yes. As you see, I am Minnesota’s Mansa Musa.” He gestured around his Spartan home. “Any luxury you desire, allow me to conjure it from my collection of magic lamps.”

Maggie was unprepared for this turn of events, but she was caught utterly off-guard by Samuel Myerson making a joke.

He ignored her silence. “My uncle had a very particular will, which had very particular stipulations. At least one of us three had to join the church, and we were not permitted to leave service. If none of us joined the clergy, the money would be distributed to charities of his choosing.”

“That sounds highly unusual,” she said. She couldn’t conjure up any stronger words. “Was he a religious man himself?”

Sam’s face darkened. “My grandparents were very devoted to the church, and both my mother and her brother inherited their … enthusiasm.”

“As did you, apparently.”

Sam’s furrowed brow didn’t move. “Hardly, Miss Cruthers. I volunteered to do it to spare my brothers. They would not have thrived in the role as well as I am.”

If this was Sam’s idea of thriving, she hated to think of what a failure would look like. “So, you took on the position as the pastor of the village for money?”

Sam’s face hardened. “I did what was necessary to provide for my family, Miss Cruthers. I think we are similar in that regard.”

Maggie couldn’t argue with facts. “Very well. You joined the church to get the inheritance your eccentric uncle left. Is there a reason you’re telling me all of this?”

Discomfort slid back onto Sam’s face. “It’s why I posted the pamphlets. It’s also why I write such dull, harsh sermons, and why I don’t nod at shopkeepers or smile at old women I pass on the street.”

“Sam, I am completely unable to follow what you’re trying to⁠—”

“I am trying,” he said shortly, leaning forward, “to make myself unsuitable for this position.”

Maggie, sensing a con, immediately perked up. “You’re trying to get defrocked?”

Sam shrugged, looking unbothered. “The will says I can’t leave, not that I can’t be forced out.”

“You don’t think that’s a bit … pettifogging?”

“It’s legal, according to our lawyers.” His mouth set. “My brothers want me out as much as I want to leave, and they used part of their inheritance to hire some counsel.”

“Where on earth is your mother in all of this?”

He snorted. “We bought her a cottage in Elm Lake and haven’t seen her in years. My brothers and I are all each other has, Miss Cruthers.”

She absolutely refused to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t entirely squash the sympathy pricking her chest.

“You’ve spent the last two years being insufferable so the village would complain and you would be let go.”

“That’s the long and short of it.” He picked up a dry-looking biscuit and chewed on a corner. “I’m not proud of myself, Miss Cruthers,” he said, squinting at her. “I hope you don’t think any of this is ideal for me.” He swallowed. “I was careful who I went after. No one was going to abandon any of the businesses I named, and I made sure to never touch on your, erm, brothers’ relationship. Oh, don’t worry,” he added when her face crumpled. “They’re quite safe.”

Maggie felt rooted to her seat. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Took a deep breath. “How did you know about Tom and Bridgers?”

Sam’s brow crinkled. “You’ll forgive me for saying that your ruse of being siblings was quite unbelievable. Aside from none of you resembling each other in the slightest, they look at each other with unguarded adoration at all hours of the day. Additionally, your claim of having different fathers was, if anything, a larger indicator that you were hiding something.” He offered a small, crooked smile. “Sorry.”

Why had they ever come up with that stupid lie? They should have pretended she and Tom were married and Bridgers was their adopted stray. A sudden thought sank its claws into her, and she reeled back, horrified. “Does the village know about Tom and Bridgers?”

“Miss Cruthers, I think everyone knows about Tom and Bridgers.”

She slid a hand over her mouth. “It can’t possibly be safe.”