about the photos? They weren’t really part of what the sisters had agreed to keep secret. And it might help her learn about the mother she barely remembered.
“Aaron, could I ask you about something personal?” She held the grab bar steady so he could mark the drill holes in the shower.
“Depends.” He reached for the electric drill.
“While Val and I were moving things around, we found a box of old photographs—pictures of you and my mother, from the time you were kids. It was a surprise. I never even realized you were friends, let alone sweethearts.”
The drill whined, biting into the shower wall, making three holes for the long screws, then three more for the other end of the bar. “I can’t believe she didn’t throw those pictures away,” he said. “But they must’ve meant something to her. Not that it matters, now that she’s gone.”
“All those years together. It must’ve hurt when she married somebody else.”
Aaron was silent, leaning into the drill to make the last hole. Then the breath exploded out of him. “You’re damn right it did. We had it all worked out, how we were going to get married when I came home, and how I could help her dad and take over the ranch one day. Instead, I served my country with honor and got shit for it.”
It was an awkward moment. Any sympathy on Lexie’s part would be insincere. If her mother, Isabel, had married Aaron, her family wouldn’t exist. Still, she wanted to learn all she could.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
“About the way you’d expect. She’d promised to wear my ring and wait for me, but then Bert Champion hired on to run cows for her dad. Just a no-account cowboy without two nickels to rub together. But he had a pretty face and knew enough to move in on the boss’s daughter. The right words, a little moonlight, and she forgot every promise she’d ever made to me. I came home to find that the bastard had stolen my girl, the ranch, and the family we’d talked about having. He took it all.”
My father wasn’t a bastard. Lexie bit back the words. She was learning things she’d never known, and she wanted Aaron to keep talking.
“He took it all and then the sonofabitch killed her—with that damned skittish horse—as sure as if he’d put a gun to her head. If Isabel had married me, she could still be alive. This house, and the family in it, would be mine.”
His words were too much for Lexie. She had to defend her father. “My mother’s death was an accident. Nobody killed her. And you could have moved on, Aaron. You could have found someone else and had a family of your own. Why didn’t you?”
He gave her a startled look, as if he’d suddenly come to his senses and realized what he’d been saying. “Never mind that,” he said, closing the door on the conversation. “Let’s just get this job done. Hand me that number-two drill bit.”
They worked for another hour with a minimum of talk. Lexie was accustomed to Aaron’s silences, so she didn’t feel as awkward as she might have. But the whole time she balanced and braced the metal pieces, and handed him what he needed, her thoughts were churning.
Aaron had never spoken about his connection to her family. But her mention of the photographs had triggered an avalanche of pent-up emotions. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been a good neighbor, dropping by to chat, to share a meal, or to help when needed, especially after her father’s cancer diagnosis.
Until now, she’d never suspected his obsessive love for her mother or his deep, burning hatred for her father.
Your family owes me . . . The words of the cryptic note were branded in her memory. Could those words have been Aaron’s? Could he, and not Callie, have been responsible for the malicious acts on the ranch?
But that didn’t make sense. Bert was dead. Aaron might have gained some satisfaction from watching him suffer and die, but he’d have no reason to hate the rest of the family. And it was Callie who’d been found with the poison; Callie, who had reason to be resentful about the size of her inheritance. Motive, means, and opportunity. She’d had them all.
The work was finished by noon. Lexie paid Aaron out of petty cash and invited him to stay for lunch, which would likely be canned soup and tuna sandwiches.
“Thanks, but