Twenty-Nine
In some respects, Samantha thought she could safely assume that making love would have resolved some of the tension and adrenaline left over from how she and Justin had met, but when she woke up alone in his bed, she knew nothing about him was simple or easy or ever would be.
She took a shower, got dressed and discovered his truck was gone.
Of course.
Even after two bouts of incredible lovemaking, she had energy to burn and went out into the cold, clear Knights Bridge morning and started walking to town.
Randy Frost picked her up in his truck. “Looking for breakfast?” he asked.
“Breakfast would be great,” she said as she climbed into his old truck. “What’s the word on Christopher Sloan?”
“A week recuperating and he’ll be back on the job.”
“That’s a relief.”
Randy nodded. “Yes, it is. A hell of a night. Don’t let Justin fool you. It was a near thing for him with this fire, too.”
He dropped her off at Smith’s and went on his way. The restaurant was crawling with Sloans and Knights Bridge firefighters. Justin got up from his booth with Eric, Brandon and Adam and headed to a small booth at the back, nodding to Samantha.
She slid into the booth across from him.
“Lively night,” Justin said. “I woke up hungry. I see you did, too.”
Dylan McCaffrey entered the restaurant and headed straight for their table. “I’m not staying,” he said. “I just heard from Loretta, who heard from Julius Hartley, the L.A. private investigator she knows. I thought you’d like her report.”
Samantha scooted over on her bench. “Have a seat.”
Dylan sat next to her but shook his head when their waitress brought two mugs and asked him if he wanted coffee. When she withdrew, he said, “Henrietta Hazelton arrived in Boston in early 1916 as a very wealthy young widow with a small son, Benjamin. She married a widower, also wealthy, a banker fifteen years her senior named James Magowan. He adopted Ben. He and Henrietta had no other children. He died at eighty.” Dylan paused, sitting back against the booth. “Henrietta loved to make up romantic adventures and eventually took up painting. She and Ben remained close until her death at eighty-five.”
“Zeke Hazelton did all right, but he wasn’t wealthy,” Justin said.
Samantha drank some of her coffee, just to buy herself a moment to think. “My grandfather told me that Ben often said he didn’t know the whole story about his mother. That she’d left out some parts of her past, and not everything added up. Grandpa didn’t mention Knights Bridge, or the fire. Nothing like that.”
Dylan nodded. “I’m not surprised. Henrietta kept the Hazelton name but that didn’t mean she wanted to revisit what happened here.” He rose, clearly as taken with Zeke and Henrietta as Olivia had been. “I know there’s more to this story, but that’s all Julius and Loretta have at the moment.”
“Thank you,” Samantha said. “And, please, thank them for me.”
Dylan glanced at Justin, then shifted back to her. “I hope you’ll be able to thank them yourself in person one day soon, but they were happy to help. It’s a fascinating tale.”
As Dylan left, Samantha looked across the table at Justin. “A lot going on this morning.”
“All good.”
“Randy Frost said it was a near thing for you last night.”
“My brother’s okay. The rest doesn’t matter. What are you having for breakfast? Did you even have dinner last night?”
“If I order a huge breakfast, everyone here is going to know we...”
“They know, anyway, Sam,” Justin said, amused. “It’s what we call obvious.”
“You’re all a bunch of know-it-alls,” she said, and, ignoring Justin’s grin, ordered fresh-squeezed orange juice, whole-grain pancakes with real maple syrup and local bacon, cooked crisp.
Her orange juice arrived at the same time as a text from her uncle. We’re at the family farm. Our second cousin has done a great job with the place. Says Ben and Pop visited several times over the years. Ben always said his mother insisted she was descended from pirates.
She texted him back. Farraday?
No names. Hell, Sam. Pirates.
She handed her phone to Justin and sat back, drinking her juice and remembering her talks with her grandfather in his last days. “I’m positive that Grandpa never mentioned the painting or the story,” she said. “I’d remember.”
“His friend Ben could have dropped them off before he died but never told your grandfather what they were all about.” Justin shrugged but was clearly interested, despite last night’s fire. “Ben might have been torn about digging into his mother’s past.”
Samantha nodded. “I can see him being ambivalent. Wanting to know her true story, but afraid he couldn’t take it—that it was sad beyond words.”
Justin leaned forward. “My guess is your grandfather decided you were meant to be the one to figure out Henrietta’s story. You were relentless enough to follow the leads wherever they took you.”
Here, she thought. To Knights Bridge. “Grandpa must have met Henrietta. Maybe my father and Uncle Caleb did, too. Wouldn’t it be ironic if Grandpa’s first expeditions were funded with pirate treasure?”
Justin winked at her. “Par for the course with your family, if you ask me.”
Her breakfast arrived—the pancakes and little pitcher of syrup steaming, the bacon with a smoky, maple smell. Samantha grabbed her fork, ready to dive in, when the waitress returned with a little bowl of plain yogurt and granola and set it in front of Justin. “Yogurt, Justin? Really? After last night—”
“I don’t want too much in my stomach. I’m going back to bed after breakfast.” He pointed his spoon at her. “You eat up, though.”
“You’re going back to bed?”
“Mmm. Long night. Didn’t sleep much. I’ll see Chris this afternoon after he’s caught up on his sleep.”
“I could eat a few bites of these pancakes and get the rest to go.”
“We could share them for a late lunch.”
Samantha raised her eyes to him. “You know every one of your brothers and firefighter friends is watching us right now, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Get used to it.”
A warmth spread through her, and she smiled at him. “I already am.”