in touch." The letter had gone out the very day she'd heard the news, but to her disappointment, she hadn't heard back from him.
"That's great, Mom."
"I thought so, too." She finished her wine, and then, because it was obvious that her daughter wasn't in the mood for more company, Charlotte decided it was time to leave.
After a quick peek at the pictures, she gathered her things. Olivia made a token protest, then escorted her to the door.
"I'm glad you had a good trip. And I'm thrilled about James."
"Thanks, Mom." Olivia hugged her. "Did you feel this elation when you first became a grandmother?"
It hadn't been so long ago that Charlotte had forgotten. "Twins, no less. That was one of the happiest days of my life."
"And mine," Olivia told her, but a sadness came over her, a sadness Charlotte felt, too, as they remembered Jordan and the happy, carefree boy he'd been.
On her drive home, she thought about Cliff Harding. He would certainly have received her letter but for some reason had either put off answering, or - worse - decided not to answer at all.
Perhaps she should have called, instead.
Yes, that was what she should've done, all right.
Unable to resist, as soon as she walked into the house, Charlotte located his number, which Roy had given her.
The phone rang four times before the receiver was abruptly lifted.
"Harding," said a gruff male voice.
"Jefferson," she returned in the same clipped tones. "Charlotte Jefferson."
Silence.
"I'm phoning to see if you got my letter," she explained. She knew he most likely had but that seemed the easiest way to introduce her subject.
"I got it."
Charlotte paused, wishing she'd thought this through more carefully. "Perhaps right now is a bad time?"
"It's as good a time as any. Basically, I'm not interested in anything to do with my grandfather."
Charlotte frowned in disapproval. "I'm sure you're going to reconsider when you see what I have."
"Listen, Mrs. Jefferson, I realize you mean well, but - "
"Were you aware that your grandfather recently died right here in Cedar Cove?"
"Your letter said as much."
"Mr. Harding, I have risked a great deal to find you."
"I'm not ungrateful, but - "
"I could do jail time for what I've done and at seventy-two, I don't intend to spend the rest of my life rooming with someone named Big Bertha."
He howled with laughter. How dared this young man be amused when she was dead serious?
"What exactly did you do to risk facing Big Bertha?"
Charlotte told him, sparing none of the details. "I have everything under my bed."
"That's probably the first place the sheriff will look, don't you think?"
Charlotte suspected he was still mocking her - a little bit, anyway - but she gave him a straightforward reply. "I did think of that, but my knees are too tired to be traipsing up and down the basement stairs."
"My suggestion is that you give it all back to the state. Let the authorities sell it and recoup whatever expense they put out on my grandfather's behalf."
"You can't mean that!" Charlotte was outraged. "My dear boy, this was your grandfather."
"He was as much a grandfather to me as he was a father to my dad. In other words, not at all. Dad saw him a grand total of three times in his entire life. I never had the pleasure nor would I have cared to."
"All the more reason to learn what you can about him now," Charlotte argued.
"Frankly, I don't care. So what if he was a movie and TV cowboy from the forties and fifties. The 'Yodeling Cowboy,'" he added scornfully. "Well, my dear Mrs. Jefferson, I don't give a damn."
"It's his blood that runs through your veins."
"I'd rather it didn't. Like I said, he wasn't any kind of a father or grandfather, and I sincerely doubt he cared about me in the slightest."
"I beg to differ." Normally Charlotte wasn't this argumentative. But she refused to let this...this arrogant whelp turn his back on his heritage. "You have a great deal in common with your grandfather, young man."
Cliff snickered softly. "I doubt that. And I'm not so young."
"Don't you raise quarter horses?" This was part of the information Roy had given her. "Where do you think that interest in horses came from?" she asked grandly.
He didn't answer her question. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"Mr. Harding, please. Considering the risk I've taken, the least you can do is look at what I've rescued. There just might be something here you'd want."
"You mean like a Yodeling Cowboy lunch bucket? No,