“My role is ‘gold digger.’ I get that. There must be a way to prove I’m not. Maybe I can . . . I don’t know, sign a contract or whatever. Forfeiting any right to your money under any circumstances.”
“Signing a contract is what got me into this mess in the first place.”
“Right. Okay. But I think you’re too close to this, Aiden. How about we ask Rian? See what he says.”
Connolly snorts. “He will say that having you confront our parents is an excellent idea, and also that he insists on being there and hopes you serve popcorn.”
“You think he’ll want to see your parents eviscerate me?”
“No, the opposite. He’ll want to see you go after them, because it would be entertaining. He’ll consider the bomb, not the fallout.”
“I think you’re wrong,” I say softly. “I think you don’t give him enough credit. I’d like to ask him.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t have his number.”
There’s a pause that stretches for at least a half mile.
“Connolly? Please tell me you have your brother’s number.”
“He has several, and I am never quite certain which he is currently answering.”
I sigh and text Hope, who passes over Rian’s number. He answers on the fourth ring, just when I’ve decided he won’t pick up.
“Hey, Rian. It’s Kennedy.”
“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”
“It’s about your brother. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“What’s Aiden done now? No, wait. Let me guess. He’s being an asshole. A prissy, inconsiderate, arrogant asshole.”
When I don’t answer, he says, “He’s right there, isn’t he?”
“Kind of. Sorry. I forgot the warning label.”
Rian only laughs. “It’s not anything I haven’t said to his face. So what’s up?”
“It’s about his marriage contract.”
A creak, as if Rian is getting comfortable. “You found out about that, huh? Don’t worry. Aiden’s not marrying anyone he doesn’t want to marry. I reminded him of it a few years back, and he was already putting aside money. He’ll have enough before the chit comes due.”
I glance at Connolly. “You haven’t told him?”
“Aiden tells me nothing personal, Kennedy, and with him everything is personal.”
Connolly says, “I’ve been trying to contact him, so he knows the situation and hears it from me.”
Rian says. “Okay, I heard that, and I concede his point. I’ve been ducking calls. So what’s up?”
I look at Connolly who nods, telling me to go on.
“Well,” I say. “First, he may not have begun saving as soon as you think.”
“Really? Okay, that is a surprise. Still, he’ll have it by next year.”
“It’s due this year. On his birthday. He misunderstood the terms.”
“Misunderstood?” Another creak, as if he’s sitting up quickly. “That’s not possible. This is Aiden we’re talking about.”
“The contract says the money is due at the beginning of his thirtieth year. He didn’t realize that you’re in your thirtieth year of life right after you turn twenty-nine.”
“Shit. I wouldn’t have got that either. Wow, screwing over your kids in a contract. Our parents are winners, huh?”
“Mmm. The point is that Aiden is stuck. He doesn't have enough yet to pay it back, and your parents are trotting out the marital prospects early because they’re concerned about me.”
“They don’t believe he just wants to be friends? I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you. ” His laugh sounds uncomfortably close to a cackle, and I shift the phone to my other ear, away from Connolly.
“Aiden is concerned that they’ll make a move against me.”
Rian stops laughing. He’s stone-sober when he says, “Yeah, Kennedy, they will. They know where to apply pressure. For Aiden, that’s you, which will seem to prove that you two are more than friends and dig that hole deeper.”
“I want to talk to them. Meet face to face. Work this out.”
Silence.
“Rian?”
“Aiden isn’t going to let you do that, right?” He raises his voice. “Tell me you are not letting her do that, bro.”
“He is advising against it. Strongly. I thought you might have a different take.”
“Sorry, but I’m with Aiden. Anything you say to them will only make things worse. They’ll use it against you and against him. The best thing you can do is let Aiden handle it.”
* * *
We’re arrived at the address “Victor Costa” gave Ms. Silver for the painting purchase.
“You know what would have helped here?” I say as Connolly pulls into the drive. “Satellite view.”
Connolly makes a noise between annoyance and agreement. We’d plugged the address into the car’s GPS, but an online search would have brought up a photograph of the house and have saved us the trip.
“Maybe we’re being too hasty,” I say. “He is an artist. This place certainly has character.”
Connolly rolls his head to the side, giving me such an un-Connolly look that I sputter a laugh.
“Fine,” I say. “It’s a pigsty.”
“I believe that would be an insult to pigs.”
We’re at the end of a long road leading to what can best be described as a stunning example of rural decay. It’s the kind of derelict homestead that photographers love to capture, complete with dead trees and one lonely tire on a rope, swinging ominously in the breeze.
“Do we check it out?” I say.
He glances at me and then squints at the house and turns on the high beams, as if one of us clearly suffers from poor night vision.
“No one lives there, Kennedy.”
I shrug. “Sure, but we’re here now. We should check it out.”
“Whoever bought the painting found an abandoned house and gave Ms. Silver the address. There’s no actual connection between this farm and the painting.”
“I’m going to check it out. You can wait here. Keep your shoes clean.”
“Kenn—”
I’m already out of the car, the slap of the door cutting off the rest as I stride toward the abandoned house.
Chapter Eight
Eight
I get about ten steps—just far enough for him to be sure I’m serious—and then his door slams shut with more force than necessary. When I turn, he’s striding toward me, ignoring the puddled ruts in the dirt driveway. Once I’m no longer looking, though, I catch sight of his reflection in a half-broken window as he picks his way through, nose scrunching in distaste.
I clamp my mouth shut. If I tease him, he’ll take that as a sign that we’re fine, and we’re not.
I tramp through the overgrown front garden. I might be wearing low heels, but they’re washable. There’s nothing in my closet that isn’t.
“Watch out!” he says as I lean toward the broken glass.