“They’ll fight,” Vincent said, setting a cup of tea beside me.
“Let them.” I didn’t touch the tea. “I have one more call to make.”
I dialed a number I’d memorized decades ago but rarely used.
“Robert, it’s Naomi Canton. I think it’s time I called in that favor.”
Robert Wilson had been Nicholas’s roommate at Penn State before either of them met me. They’d remained friends even after Robert moved to Philadelphia to start what would become one of the largest real estate law firms in the state. Thirty years ago, Nicholas had loaned Robert money when his first firm collapsed—money that helped rebuild a practice now known for tearing predatory developers apart in court.
“Naomi,” his voice was warm with recognition. “I’ve been meaning to call since I heard about Nicholas. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, Robert. I need your help with a situation.”
I explained everything. The forgery. The abandonment. The developer. Robert listened without interruption, and when I finished, the silence stretched so long I thought we’d been disconnected.
“I’ll be in Milfield tomorrow morning,” he finally said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “These developers—Platinum Acres—they’ve been on our radar. Naomi, what they’re planning violates at least six environmental regulations. We’ve been looking for a way to stop them.”
“And now you have one,” I said.
“Yes.” I could hear him shuffling papers. “Don’t sign anything before I get there. And Naomi… I’m sorry about your children.”
“I stopped having children three days ago,” I replied. “Now I just have adversaries.”
That night, I sat in Lucille’s kitchen as she closed the bakery, drinking tea and watching her prepare dough for the morning.
“You should try to eat something,” she said, nodding toward the sandwich she’d made me. “You need your strength.”
“I’m not hungry.” I hadn’t had an appetite since Nicholas died. Food was fuel now. Nothing more.
“Heard Melissa’s staying at the Milfield Inn,” Lucille said, kneading with practiced movements. “Brandon’s still at the house. People are talking.”
