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librarians think they can find such things in a book?”

“Good one.” Again I suspected he was more of a reader than he let on. “But this particular book raises more questions than it provides answers.”

Betty came to life. “What are you talking about?” Her tone was defensive. “Bobby doesn’t have time to talk to you. Can’t you see he’s at work?”

This from the woman who seemed to be under the mistaken impression that today was Bring Your Parent to Work Day. “You appear to be the kind of mother who’d make it her duty to raise her children to be strong and independent.”

Betty lifted her chin. “That’s right. I raised Bobby to think for himself and to be able to stand on his own two feet.”

“Then why won’t you let him do that now?” I asked gently.

She gasped, looking at me as though I’d insulted her peach cobbler. “Well, I—”

“It’s all right, Mama.” Bobby turned back to me. His eyes gleamed with humor. The right corner of his mouth curved upward before he managed to compose his features. “Are you talkin’ about Fiona’s book?”

Betty bristled. “You have no right to harass—”

“Mama,” he interrupted her. “I said I can handle this. Thank you.”

Betty’s pale cheeks had pinkened.

Ignoring her discomfort, I offered Bobby a smile. “Everyone in Peach Coast says you and your father were close.”

A smile softened his inscrutable square features. “We were, especially as I got older.”

I chuckled. “That reminds me of a Mark Twain quote.”

Bobby returned my smile. “The one about his father gainin’ knowledge between the time he was fourteen and twenty-one?”

“That’s the one exactly.” Bobby had only deepened my suspicion he was more of a reader than he’d let on. Surely, this was a sign we were meant to be friends—provided he wasn’t a stone-cold killer.

Betty rolled her eyes at him. “You know, I was the one in labor with you for thirty-six hours, not your father. Are you done?” Her question, directed to me, was dry and bitter.

My smile faded. “Bobby, if you and your father were so close, why did he appoint Fiona to manage your inheritance? You appear to be a responsible adult—”

Sensing an affront to her child, Betty charged in. “What do you mean, ‘appears to be’? Of course he is. He’s—”

“Mama.” Bobby’s voice was tense. “Please let me handle this.”

A hapless customer approached the checkout counter at that moment. His appearance helped to distract from some of the tension. Bobby handled the sale with polite efficiency. It was strange the way he managed to remain distant yet approachable at the same time. He’d probably fit in well in New York.

Once the customer had disappeared, Bobby turned back to me. “How’d you hear about my inheritance?”

Stalling tactics. I couldn’t blame him. I had a few of those myself, but now wasn’t the time. I had a cat waiting at home, and I needed the truth. “Bobby, your father didn’t appoint Fiona to manage your inheritance, did he?”

Betty’s face filled with heat. “Are you calling my boy a liar? Is that what you’re doing? Because if you are—”

“Mama.” His tone was sharp. “Be still.”

This time, she wasn’t the only one shocked by Bobby’s curt command. I had the sense the mellow young man didn’t often lose his temper.

Bobby expelled a harsh breath. He paced behind the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. When he finally turned toward me, his inscrutable mask was back in place. “Ms. Marvey, you’re bound and determined to crawl into my mind and pick apart my thoughts, ain’t that right?”

I took his words as a statement of fact rather than an attack. “We’re both interested in the truth. I believe the truth is your father didn’t leave Fiona in charge of your inheritance, so what really happened to your money?”

Bobby looked toward his mom. “Your lies about Fiona gave the town the wrong ideas about her.”

“Bobby!” She shot a panicked look in my direction before giving him a quelling stare.

“It’s the truth.” Bobby appeared unmoved by Betty’s show of temper. He held my gaze. “I cared about Fiona, but I didn’t want to contradict my mama.”

“That’s right.” Betty gave a decisive nod, her previous shame forgotten. “I raised my son right.”

Bobby rubbed his eyes. I sensed the tension he was battling. It was strong and must’ve had a grip on him for a very long time. “What you did was wrong and unfair. Worse, I’m your son, and you put me in a bad position.”

“Bobby!” She gaped at him.

He ignored her interjection. “Fiona was a good person. She loved my father. He was happier with her than he’d been with my mama. I couldn’t resent my father for finding a woman who could love him like that.”

“Excuse me?” Betty’s tone was strident.

“And he never cheated on Mama.” Bobby pointed toward Betty in an almost accusing manner. “You know that’s true, Mama.”

Again Betty’s gaze met mine before slipping away. “Well, I…”

After speaking with Nolan and Zelda, and considering the information the librarians had uncovered about Buddy’s finances, I’d begun to suspect Fiona’s tattered reputation had been a figment of Betty’s imagination. Now Bobby was confirming that realization too.

Bobby turned back to me. “Don’t get me wrong. I had my doubts about Daddy and Fiona at first too.”

“I understand.” How would I feel if my father divorced my mother to marry another woman? It would be a difficult position. I’d want both of my parents to be happy. However, in such a situation, for one to be happy, the other would suffer a broken heart.

Bobby crossed his arms and propped his hips against the counter behind him. “Daddy tried real hard to correct the lies about Fiona. But no one listened. Everyone thought he was a fool.” He slid his mother another look. “Doctors said Daddy died of a heart attack. I think he died of a broken heart because of the lies goin’ ’round town about Fiona.”

Betty seemed to shrivel inside herself, but she maintained her silence. For once, she

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