The Wicked Trade (The Forensic Genealogist Book 7) by Nathan Goodwin (types of ebook readers TXT) 📕

 Morton embraced Laura as though she were an old friend, yet this was their first meeting. ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ he said with a wide smile.

‘You too,’ she beamed. ‘It’s such a great story you guys have!’

‘Isn’t it just,’ Morton agreed, taking her in more fully. Like Jack, her face, hair and the way in which she dressed removed a good decade from her sixty-two years. Her dark eyes were enhanced by subtle make-up and her hair was trimmed into a neat blonde bob. She wore tight blue jeans and a small black leather jacket.

Laura took a step up towards Grace and Juliette, leaving Morton standing before his half-brother, George. He had seen plenty of photographs of George, yet to actually see him in the flesh was somewhat startling. He, just like Morton, had inherited many of Jack’s physical features. The three of them shared the chestnut-brown eyes, the dark hair and the handsome boyish facial detail. The main difference with George was that he was taller than Morton and heavier set.

‘Christ, look at you two,’ Juliette exclaimed, evidently having seen the same thing.

‘Wow—there’s no mistaking your paternity,’ Laura quipped.

‘Hi,’ Morton finally said, shaking his brother’s hand.

‘Nice to meet you,’ George said, with a deferential shyness.

‘How are you?’ Morton asked.

‘Exhausted,’ George answered with a thin smile.

‘Why don’t you have a sleep? Your bed’s made up. I’m afraid you’re in Grace’s room; not with her in there, I hasten to add.’

Juliette scooped Grace into her arms and directed everyone inside, asking them if they were hungry or thirsty.

‘I might just do that,’ George said. ‘Leave you guys to catch up.’

Morton returned his smile, moving up the steps into the house, all the while wondering at George’s comment, which obliquely placed him on the periphery of the reunion. He hadn’t considered before now that George would be anything other than delighted to have a ready-made older brother thrust upon him.

Morton closed the front door, observing his half-brother carefully as he joined the others in the kitchen. Jack and Laura were seated comfortably at the table, discussing the house with Juliette. George slid in beside his father and Morton was sure that he exhaled in a way which suggested irritation. George ran the nail of his index finger down a grain line in the table, then looked up and caught Morton staring at him. Rather than smile, as Morton might have expected him to, he just stared back.

The short uncomfortable stalemate was broken when Morton smiled and glanced away, trying to latch on to whatever it was that Juliette had been saying.

‘I wasn’t very keen on this house at first, was I, Morton?’ she said.

‘No, I think you were after horizontal floors and vertical walls,’ Morton recalled with a laugh.

Juliette rolled her eyes. ‘And I still don’t know why we have two front doors…but that’s another question.’

‘How old is this beautiful place?’ Laura asked.

‘Built in the early 1500s,’ Juliette replied, leaving Laura’s mouth agape in awe.

Morton looked at the time, then said, ‘What do you feel like doing? It’s going to be a good three or four hours until dinner. We can stay here, you can go for a lie-down or, since it’s a nice day, we could go for a walk—show you a bit of Rye and get a cup of tea somewhere?’

‘That sounds a great idea!’ Jack said, turning to Laura. ‘What do you think?’

‘Perfect. I’ve heard so much about this little town; I can’t wait to see it.’

‘I’m going to stay here, if that’s okay,’ George said. ‘I’ll get the bags in and then have a sleep.’

Jack tapped him lightly on the back. ‘Sure thing, Son.’

Morton watched their interaction with interest. He noticed that Jack had called both him and George son and wondered if he was being literal or if it was a term of endearment that any younger man received. He could hear him using it as an appellation for the young man who had fixed his car, or the student at the university where he lectured, who had held the door open for him, or the postman who had delivered a package.

‘Morton, show them their rooms while I get Grace ready,’ Juliette instructed.

‘Follow me up the wonky, creaky stairs,’ Morton said with a grin.

Jack, followed by Laura, followed by a seemingly reluctant George, trooped up the stairs to the first floor.

‘That’s your room,’ Morton said, pushing open Grace’s bedroom door. ‘As you can see, we’ve decorated it especially for a thirty-seven-year-old American.’

Jack and Laura laughed as they stuck their heads into the room, casually taking in the pink and white walls adorned with rabbits and flowers. In the centre of the room was a single put-up bed with vaguely feminine bedding. ‘It’s cool,’ George said. ‘I’ve slept in much stranger places.’

‘And you two are on the top floor,’ Morton said, continuing upstairs with them behind him. He showed them into the guestroom, situated directly opposite his study.

‘Perfect,’ Jack said.

Downstairs, they found Juliette strapping Grace into the buggy. ‘Look, here comes Grandpa and Grandma,’ she said heartily.

‘Gandpa,’ Grace said, pointing at Jack.

‘Yeah!’ Jack cried. ‘Good girl! Grandpa!’

‘Gandpa,’ Grace repeated.

Juliette flicked her head around, bemused. ‘I wonder at what point in your fast-growing vocabulary you might like to say MUMMY?’

‘She’s doing it to annoy you,’ Jack said with a smile.

Morton grinned, handing Jack and Laura their coats and pulling open the front door. ‘Let’s go down the hill,’ Morton said. ‘The cobbles are a nightmare with the buggy.’

They all stepped out into the warm afternoon and began to head away from the house. Morton took a cursory glance up the hill at the real reason for their heading this way—the Mermaid Inn, where his