Unspoken

  Ellie laughed. “It’s going to be fun, Bryce, over the next decade to watch you figure this out. I’ll be glad to help when I can. One of the joys of my days is walking into Charlotte’s studio to see what she’s working on. I’ll stop by to give you some time, and keep an eye on her art. It will make an ideal day.”

  Bryce tugged a key out of his shirt pocket. “I had a copy made for you. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “I appreciate the key, but it won’t be necessary.”

  Charlotte reached over and put her hand on Ellie’s arm. “Think of it as insurance, in case I lock my keys in the car.”

  Ellie nodded and added the key to her key ring.

  Bryce wrote down the current security code. She looked at it, nodded. “Rip it up, I won’t forget.”

  Charlotte pushed back from the table. “A very good meeting. Is it okay if I escape to the studio?”

  Bryce smiled. “Go.”

  Ellie watched her leave. “She looks happy.”

  Bryce heard the surprise in her voice, and chuckled. “You can relax, Ellie. I know you were worried, but Charlotte and I are going to be good together.”

  “I’ll relax in a few months. I am very glad she married you, Bryce.”

  Bryce tapped the two checkbooks. “I’m glad too, and for more reasons than the money, Ellie.”

  “You’re a smart man.” Her smile faded. “I owe you some answers, concerning what she’s shared about what happened.”

  “Not today.”

  Ellie looked over at him, and he held her gaze. “Not today. We both get a pass from the hard things today.”

  Ellie slowly nodded. “She didn’t sleep well.”

  “No, she didn’t. But she’ll compensate by putting her attention on an ambitious sketch and working until she can’t see straight tonight.”

  “You’re already figuring her out.”

  “My wife . . . my job to figure her out.”

  He picked up the box, the folders, the checkbooks. “Come back to my office for a minute, Ellie, if you have time. Let me show you what I’ve got organized so far. And I’d like your advice on a comfortable chair to move into the room for Charlotte.”

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  Charlotte tapped on his office door. “How’s it going?”

  Bryce stretched his hands over his head, sorting out the kinks in his neck. “Very well.”

  He pointed to the chair. “Try that one, see what you think. Ellie thought it might do as your chair.”

  “My chair?”

  “We’ll bring down a couple of pillows for it, get a sketchbook to rest on that shelf behind it, fill a mug with pencils—you want to come hang out with me while I work, you’ll have a comfortable place.”

  She smiled and settled into it. “I appreciate it.” She rested her feet on the footstool he’d brought in, nudged it a few inches closer. “This is very nice.”

  Bryce smiled. “Not quite as inviting as stretching out on a couch for a nap, so if I see you nodding off, I’ll send you elsewhere.”

  “Deal. I came to see if you want to break for a late lunch.”

  He glanced at the clock, surprised to find it was after three. Ellie had left shortly after one p.m. “Sure.” He pushed back from the desk. “So how is our first day going, Mrs. Bishop?”

  “I’m glad it’s Friday.”

  He laughed. “You know, I am too.”

  Bryce heard the music fade as Charlotte closed the French doors between the sunroom and the back patio. Minutes later he heard footsteps on the staircase up to the bedrooms. He glanced at the time. Quarter after five. He regretted not stopping to go see the changes she’d made to her studio before she called it a day.

  He pulled another stack of checks from the printer. He clicked the spreadsheet column to check the tally for the day. Two million one. He’d call it a day and find her when these were ready for the mail.

  The ball game he had been listening to concluded with a line drive and runner out at first. Bryce changed the radio station to background music. He labeled the envelopes, then started signing checks.

  He heard Charlotte coming back down and found himself glad he hadn’t added ‘tightening stair treads’ to the project list the last time he had carpenters working in the house. He could tell from her footsteps where she was in the house—kitchen, hallway, stairs. He figured she would be after food and drink and would head to the kitchen, but she turned into the living room. She didn’t settle on the couch or turn on the television. She came on back to his office.

  She tapped on his office door as he looked up. “Mind if I interrupt?”

  She’d lost the shoes and was barefoot, her hair was tied back with a ribbon, and he wasn’t sure what she was carrying tucked under her arm. “I’d welcome it. Come on in. I’m just finishing up the food pantry checks for this month.” He glanced at the address list. “We’ll be sending out a hundred and six today.”

  “Nice.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Bishop, what do you know about precious gems?” There was just a hint of a smile in the way she asked the question.

  He looked up from signing the check, studied her. Slowly set down the pen.

  “The coins were just practice,” she explained, trying to keep laughter out of her voice.

  Precious gems. He closed his eyes as he sighed. “I can learn.”

  She came around the desk to his side and leaned against his chair. She opened the thermos she carried and poured a stream of diamonds into her hand. “My dowry,” she said as he watched them glitter in the reflected light.

  “My grandfather felt it was important I have something I could bring to a marriage—whenever it might happen during my lifetime—that said I was precious to him, that I should be precious to a husband. He settled on precious stones.”

  “How many?”

  “Fifty million worth.”

  “Is that all?”

  Her laughter bubbled. “Actually, that’s just the diamonds. He bought some emeralds before he died too, and rubies, sapphires. He really fell in love with the sapphires. Coins were easier for me to understand, so I started with them.”

  He picked up a diamond from the handful she held. It looked similar to a stone in her wedding ring—a couple of carats, and beautiful. He looked at her. “That’s why you kept the storefront next to Bishop Chicago.”

  “It would make a nice jewelry store. Custom-designed pieces, a choice of stones. The gems are in safe-deposit boxes. And in a couple of boxes stored in the bottom of my closet.”

  “If I had known I could have at least had insurance on them.”

  “Silence is the best form of secrecy there is.”

  “I’ll learn about gems, Charlotte, enough to know the terrain. But it will be best if we open that jewelry store and let experts advise us.”

  “We could leave them sit for a while.”

  “The store is there and designed to be a showcase. We can find the staff easily enough if we’re willing to pay very good talent to move from where they’re presently working. Better to have the stones sold and in circulation if we’re not going to keep them. Do you like to wear jewelry?”

  “I wear a piece on rare occasions, but not really. Ellie does. What about your family?”

  “We can give a nice piece of jewelry to everyone in the family and it’s still not going to use more than a couple handfuls of these gems.”

  “Hire good designers, have pieces made for your family, mine,” Charlotte suggested. “They can be our first Christmas gifts. Everyone gets something custom-made and valuable, but no one gets singled out.”

  “A smart idea. Mom would get a kick out of a brooch and matching earrings.”

  Bryce put the diamond back with the others and circled an arm around her waist. “Any more surprises I need to brace for? You own an island? Half of Montana?”

  “The gems were my last surprise.”

  “Fifty million dollars’ worth of gems.”

  “Kind of a large surprise,?
?? she conceded.

  He laughed as he watched her pour the diamonds back into the thermos and then tighten the lid. He marked his place on the checks and envelopes, set them aside for the day. He reached for her hand. “I’m fixing dinner tonight. Come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while I cook.”

  She nodded and followed.

  “This is one reason you were comfortable giving away the money from the coins. You knew even if you said no to the Legacy Trust, the coins were just the tip of the items you had to sell.”

  “I could keep the gems tucked away for decades, sell a few as needed. But mainly my thinking was one thing at a time. Coins first, then Graham Enterprises, then deal with the gems.”

  She settled on a stool at the island counter, set the thermos by the flower vase, picked up an apple from the bowl of fruit. Bryce made a mental note since it was the second apple she’d picked up today. He put chicken strips into a hot skillet. “Tell me about your studio. What you like, what you think you’ll want to change. I have a feeling that art and sports are going to be our subjects when we need to forget the money for a while.”

  “I think the lighting is excellent. Even late afternoon the direct sunlight doesn’t come more than a few feet into the room, so I can stage the drawing table where I want. With the French doors open, the breeze ripples in. I’ll make sure to keep the inside doors closed to keep flying visitors from coming into the house proper, so don’t assume a closed door means I don’t want company.”

  “Noted. But I need a signal for when you do want the solitude.”

  Charlotte thought about it, gestured with the apple. “If there’s a red ribbon on the door handle, don’t bother me unless it’s a near emergency in your family or mine. If you’re going out or something, just write me a note and leave it on the kitchen counter. What about you?”

  “There are occasional phone calls with someone at church on a confidential matter, but otherwise there’s very little you’re not welcome to sit and hear. I’d like you to consider the door always open even if it’s closed. If I’m on the phone, just curl up in your chair. I’ll give you some idea of how long I think the call will be—you can decide if you want to wait or come back later, and I’ll tell you if I need privacy for the call.”

  “Okay. Will it bug you if I decide to let you always answer the house phone? It’s going to be telemarketers and political calls and people who have known you for years. I’d rather not have to tell a curious caller that I’m your wife and hear the shocked silence as they realize you’re married and they didn’t know—even worse, discover it was someone you once dated, or it’s your great aunt I just shocked.”

  Bryce laughed. “No problem. I’d suggest you just turn off the ringer for the house phone in your studio and bedroom. I ignore the phone and let it go to a message when I’ve got company and will tend to do the same when we’re having a conversation.”

  Bryce moved the rice off the burner to finish. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Water is fine.”

  He filled glasses, and she took them to the table. She opened the drawer to get out silverware. He shut off the heat under the chicken and plated the meal. “My teriyaki chicken, with care not to let it get too dry.”

  She reached for the plate he offered. “It looks good.” They moved to the table. She sampled it and nodded. “It’s very good.”

  He tried his. “Jo’s right. I tend to overcook the chicken.”

  She tried the rice. “I can do with you practicing then. I like this recipe.”

  Bryce felt himself relax as the pace of the day faded. “Grade day one.”

  “We survived it.”

  He grinned, nodded. “Not a bad grade then.”

  “Where did you put the two checkbooks?”

  “Desk drawer, left side. The printer-fed version and extra check boxes are in the bottom drawer.”

  “Not the safe?”

  “If an intruder wants me to write a check, I’m going to write a check.”

  “Good point.”

  “Ellie set it up well. The name and address on the checks is Legacy Trust with the address of an office in the building next to the law firm. She said to think of it as a correspondence hub for the trust. The law firm will keep a staffer there. As the confirmations for tax purposes start coming in, they’ll track them. Any due-diligence materials about a particular organization I want to have mailed to me, I can use that address rather than this one. Newsletters. Correspondence. They’ll forward on a box of mail every few days.”

  “It adds another layer of privacy.”

  He nodded. “Useful if we’re traveling, or if we move one day. Nothing will need to change. You want wedding cake for dessert?”

  “Absolutely. I was too keyed up to enjoy it the first time.”

  He brought over the cake and two forks.

  “Did you make your two-million goal for today?” she asked, slicing a fork through a red rose.

  “I wrote four big checks, and another hundred smaller checks, so I took a shortcut.”

  “It counts. Is it going to be annoying if I ask that question every day?”

  “Feel free to ask. It gives me an opening to mention whatever I found interesting about the recipients of the gifts.”

  He paused with a bite of cake on his fork. “Any more ideas for your ambitious sketch?”

  “Great Plains. Glacier. Olympics. Kindergarten.”

  Bryce thought about them. “All four generate very vivid images.”

  “It’s going to be a hard choice. It always is.”

  When they were done, he covered the rest of the wedding cake and put it away. “I’m thinking about a movie, then an early night. Does that appeal or would you rather go for a walk, find a book to read, like me to disappear for a couple of hours so you can have the place to yourself? Tonight I’m willing to be flexible.”

  “Let me choose the movie.”

  Bryce looked at the foot of space between them on the couch and wondered how long it was going to take for her to want to sit beside him rather than just with him. He toyed with the ribbon around her hair, the movie not particularly holding his attention. For a first day, for the money and for being a husband, it would count as a good day. The gems were going to take some more thought. They were so wealthy fifty million in gems had lasted as a shock only about twenty minutes and he had moved on to fixing the chicken. The reality of that was beginning to settle in. Life had really changed.

  Charlotte pulled her feet up under her. He needed to get her a pair of slippers to keep handy down here so her bare feet didn’t get cold. The house did feel a bit cool tonight.

  “Would you rather we watch something else?” She turned her head and met his gaze.

  “No, this is fine.”

  “You’re making me nervous, Bryce.”

  “Good or bad nervous?” He skimmed a hand down her hair. “You’ve got an interesting face.” He eased his hand away and offered her another pillow from his end of the couch, patted his shoulder.

  She hesitated, but shifted to sit beside him, rest her head against the pillow and his shoulder. He left his hand on the back of the couch. They watched the movie. She sighed.

  “What?”

  “Now you’ve got me bored with the movie.”

  Bryce smiled. “We’re both unwinding from a very strange day. At least for me the house is familiar. You don’t even have that.”

  “We are very wealthy.”

  “I was just thinking we should tuck one of those checkbooks in our pocket and get out of the house for an hour, go somewhere, buy something, just to have something to remember from our first day.”

  “Fancy car? Clothes? A pricey painting? For the right price someone would be willing to open their store for us this evening.”

  “If I spent more than ten bucks I’d feel odd.”

  “It would feel frivolous.”

  “A bit.”

  She shifted against the pillow, getting more comfortable. “I
think my limit is five. Have you figured out how much money we earn every minute of the day?”

  “Eight hundred thirty dollars per minute.”

  She thought about that and abruptly leaned back to look at him. “So that means we earn a hundred thousand while watching this pretty awful two-hour movie?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  She dropped her head back against his shoulder. “I didn’t want to be this rich.”

  He feathered her hair with his hand. “I’m beginning to realize I don’t want to be either. Fifty thousand while we watch a movie—that’s my upper limit.”

  She laughed and then sighed. “Give it away, Bryce. Good ideas preferably over bad, but give it away.”

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. “I will.”

  He watched the movie, trying to pick up the story line. He had no idea what it was about.

  She was turning her wedding rings. He watched her for a bit, then took her hand. “Let’s go buy a chocolate shake to split, then drive a loop out toward the airport and back to see the city lights at night. You’ll sleep better.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Find your shoes. I’ll tell Mitch where we’re going.”

  Her smile faded. “It’s going to be like that whenever we go somewhere, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  She settled back on the couch, deciding if she wanted to change her mind. He let her think about it.

  He didn’t bother to tell her he and John had an agreement. Didn’t bother to tell her John had leased the house at the corner of the block, so security could have line of sight for this place. She didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know, the kind of security now around her.

  “Are we paying them enough?”

  “John is.”

  “Call Mitch. And I wouldn’t mind splitting an order of fries to go along with that shake.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Paul studied the aerial photo Ann had taped to the whiteboard, the neighborhood neatly laid out as viewed from above—house rooftops, yards, trees, and streets. She had colored dots on various homes indicating those who had lived in the neighborhood back when baby Connor was found, more for those who had provided useful information. “Where do you want us to focus this weekend?” he asked.