Eight

W yatt settled into his chair to rehash the last minutes of his recent meeting. Training a new attorney presented a welcome challenge. He'd made a note to review the paragraph on page two that caused a delay in the agreement. Maybe he could share his insight with her, the new attorney. This agreement would need a compromise—an off-putting concession. Reading through the document, folder open, he reached for his pen and tapped his fingers across his desk. No pen. He scanned the room. Things were out of place. Little things—but enough if one looked. He dialed Cindy.

"Did you notice anyone in my office while I was out for the meeting?"

"Mr. Alan came by earlier. He said he'd wait in your office. I meant to tell you the minute you returned, but I got started on the documents you asked me to rush. I hope that wasn't a problem."

"No, you were right. They're waiting on the documents." He paused. "How long?"

"Sir?"

"How long was Devlin in my office?"

"Oh. Not long. I made it a point to come check on him regularly."

"Remind me about this event during your evaluation. This is one of many things that makes you excellent at your job, Cindy."

"Why, thank you, sir."

Had Devlin ever before dropped by his office unannounced—or waited while he was in a meeting? Wyatt scratched his chin, then pulled the key from his pocket. One click, the drawer opened. Did he miss something important in the files or was it a test to double-check his skills? He could handle Devlin if he enjoyed playing games, but still, Wyatt pulled out the files once more. Maybe the answers were right in these.

He'd go slow, take his time. Reviewing each document, page by page, he shook his head. There was nothing here, nothing new. The connection between Anna's family and Greta, no surprise, was well known from her relationship with Atticus. The same folders, same documents. Nothing to drive Devlin to act erratic. Wyatt's grandparents knew—or suspected—Lila owned the property when she moved to Texas. Greta owned the property at the time of her death, although no deed returning the property found its way into these files. He pressed a palm on his brow and tried to understand the circle. As he slid the legal-size papers back into the folder, he paused at one he'd overlooked. A letter-size document from an attorney regarding parental-child obligations in Idaho—dated after Lila's father's death, but before Anna's birth.

Dear Mrs. Alan,

In response to your query, in Idaho, the law allows a child to be "emancipated by marriage," allowing the child to be considered a legal adult. Therefore, the marriage between Niklaus Knerr and Lila Stanten dissolves the parental-child obligation. Lila Stanten, now an adult according to the law, is eligible to live independently.

I have enclosed my invoice for this service. Please contact me if there is any additional information or services required.

Yours truly,

Tim Johnson

Wyatt tapped his fingers together. He'd read an article a year ago on the subject. That, combined with a short mention in law school, confirmed his knowledge regarding the law. According to the article, the controversy entered with "sham" marriages intended to skirt the rules and allow a child to sever the parent-child obligation and relationship. Misuse of the law involved child custody battles, nullifying child custody agreements when the child was considered an adult due to marriage. Did Lila figure out she could remain in that old house on the property by marrying Niklaus, Anna's father? Then the relationship grew into love, or did the love blossom first? How and why did Greta know about the marriage to the point of seeking an opinion from legal counsel? Another example of her relationship with Atticus—protecting and watching his family from a distance?

He slapped his hand against his head. Two steps forward, one back.

His phone in one hand, scrolling a computer screen with the other, he sensed someone. His gaze swept to the doorway. Devlin stood silent, focused on Wyatt without as much as a knock.

Wyatt slid the meeting folder over the deed and hung up the phone, his full attention now on the man in front of him.

"Did we have an appointment?" Wyatt asked, pulling up his calendar.

"I don't need an appointment."

Holding his frustration in check, he flattened his hands calmly on the desk. Had he ever even known this man with the soulless eyes?

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Do you have any updates on the diner incident?" Devlin slithered into the chair across from Wyatt.

Why the sudden interest? Hands now in his lap, Wyatt eased back in his chair. "Only that the injured party isn't suing yet and is out of the hospital."

"By injured party you mean Anastasia Stanten?"

Something about this conversation made Wyatt's skin crawl. Devlin didn't care about details. "Yes, Anna Stanten."

"Did the files have what you needed?"

"Time will tell, but without any litigation, we have fewer concerns regarding the incident. Of course, the investigation may turn up something, but that would be more in the area of a crime, not company liability."

"I'm considering selling that diner. I have no idea why Greta bought it in the first place. Do you?"

Wyatt shook his head. "It took me by surprise."

Devlin's eyes narrowed as he stood. Then he tilted his head with a shrug. "Well, no matter. Be prepared to wrap things up. We're paying our accountant to live in another state for a tiny diner. Makes no sense." He started for the door. "Yes, I've decided. Once the investigation is over, we're selling."

As Devlin called over his shoulder, as if trying to provoke a reaction, Wyatt clenched his teeth and held back the words he wanted to speak—for now.

Around the time he finished the deal on the diner, Greta astonished him with a large bonus—his entire annual salary. Speechless when he opened the envelope, he later surmised she felt her end near and chose to shower her final gifts as she desired. He interacted with her professionally, not personally, but for some reason, she took him under her wing and treated him well. He hadn't spent a penny of the bonus, saving it for a rainy day.

Why was Devlin asking about Anna, and how did he know so much already? Clouds were forming, a storm brewing.