When they got to the bookstore, Jonathon was sitting outside, three coffee cups and a bag of donuts next to him. And he had a briefcase sitting on the ground next to him. She grinned at him as she dug out her keys. “If you were in a suit, I’d say you were going for the friendly FBI look.”
He stood and handed Archer one of the cups. “Nothing friendly about the FBI. At least the ones I worked with. I just have a project I’m working on. Might as well work here rather than Drew’s house. At least here I don’t get yelled at for not using a coaster. That son of mine needs something else to focus on besides work and keeping his house clean. Sam was good for him. She loosened him up a bit.”
“Well, we’ll just have to get this case settled, and we can all go back to our normal lives.” Rarity shot a look at Archer, who nodded, getting the hint.
“I’m heading to my shop. Have a good day, everyone.” And then he handed Killer’s leash over to Rarity. Killer took the time to go water his favorite spot on his artificial grass. Then he hurried into the shop after Jonathon.
“So what’s the project?” Rarity locked the door behind them. She still wasn’t opening until nine, even if her babysitter had already arrived. She had inventory today.
“Oh, just some record keeping.” He blushed and went over to a table where he set the briefcase and his coffee. “Do you want a donut?”
“I won’t say no to a blueberry cake.” She unclicked Killer’s leash, then walked over and waited while Jonathon found the donut and handed it and coffee to her. “Thanks, this was nice.”
“I think better with caffeine and sugar.” He opened his briefcase and took out a laptop and a notebook.
“For your record keeping project.”
He blushed, hard. He glanced around the empty bookstore. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else. Not Archer, not Drew, not even Sam.”
She held up her hand, her fingers in a scout salute. Or what she thought a scout salute looked like. “I promise.”
“I’m trying to write a book.”
“That’s amazing.” She grinned at him. “Why would you keep that a secret?”
He sank into the chair and opened his laptop. “Because I’m trying to write. I don’t know if I can, and I don’t want people asking for years what happened to that book. There’s no way I’m going to be that guy.”
“So you’re going to write it and then tell people?” Rarity thought about her nonfiction section. “I’ve got a ton of writing books over there if you want one.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that. I’m attending the writers’ group in Flagstaff while I’m here. I’ve been in their online group for months now. Tonight, I’m reading my first chapter and getting feedback.”
“That should be fun.” Rarity hadn’t ever considered writing a book. Who would want to read about her? The most interesting thing in her life had been the cancer journey, and she’d rather not think about that time again.
“It’s horrible. I’ve hunted down serial killers and put cuffs on them. But walking into that meeting last week was gut-wrenching. Maybe I’m not meant to do this.” He straightened the pen on the table to line up with his notebook.
“Jonathon Anderson. You can do anything you want to do. If this is what you want, push past the fear and go to those meetings. Get whatever tools and information you need to write this book. Then write the best book you can. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder what if.” She sank into a chair so she could meet his gaze. “I quit my high-paying job and moved states to open this bookstore after I beat cancer. I was more scared about that than going to treatments or surgery. Taking a chance is always scary, but it’s so worth it.”
He smiled at her. “You’re right. I should have known you’d knock some sense into me. I should have talked to you months ago when I first started thinking about this. Thanks, Rarity.”
“You’re welcome. And get to work. That book isn’t going to write itself. And I have just the space for it on one of my shelves when it gets published.” She stood and walked over to the counter.
“I’ve got a long way to go before that happens, but if I want it bad enough, I’ll get there.” He focused on his computer.
Rarity smiled as she went about her day. The one thing she’d learned after having cancer was that tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone. And if you had a dream, you needed to fight for it. She was living her dream. Good or bad, she’d jumped. And her life was better for taking the chance. A lot better. Not just in her career, but in her life. She had a community here. And no one was going to rip that apart.
Shirley came in about ten to get ready for the Mommy and Me class. As customers wandered in, she started greeting them like she’d known them for years, not just from last week’s class. Shirley was a natural at this. Besides, it gave her something besides George to focus on. Rarity thought at least one good thing had come from Janey’s death. Shirley had bloomed as she took over the Mommy and Me class.
Rarity frowned. Maybe they were looking at this wrong. They were looking at trying to prove Marcus didn’t do it. Maybe they should focus instead on why someone would? Shirley’s new energy was a motivation, even though it was unintended, and there was no way Shirley would have killed Janey to get her out of the way. But what about others?
As Shirley worked with the moms and kids, and Jonathon worked at a table on the other side of the shop, Rarity sat in the middle, writing down people who might have benefited from Janey’s death. On top of that list was Cara, her roommate who’d inherited Janey’s money, house, and dog. And her sister. Trish might have thought she’d be Janey’s heir. And maybe one of them was wrong.
Rarity wrote the word Trust in the middle of her page. Then she grabbed her cell and called Drew. She left the register and caught Jonathon’s gaze. She pointed to the back room, and he nodded that he understood where she was going. When Drew answered, he didn’t wait for her greeting.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just had a question. You might not be able to tell me, or maybe you can. Either way, I think it has something to do with Janey’s death.” Rarity waited for a signal to go ahead. Drew was conflicted on giving her information because he thought it put her in harm’s way. In a way, she was already there. Whether she wanted to be or not.
Drew must have thought the same thing, because he didn’t disagree. “What do you need to know?”
“Who gets the trust money when Janey dies? Is it her sister or Cara?”
He didn’t answer at first. Then he sighed. “You know, I don’t know. I’ve got an appointment with the family lawyer today at ten. Maybe he’ll be able to tell me. I know Cara thinks Janey transferred the house and the trust to her so she could take care of Whiskey, but maybe the trust was set up so her share just went back into it for Trish if she died.”