and Russ met. I mean, she’s from New York.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to tell you before, but I talked to my son about this heir-finder business. Heir finders don’t merely reunite loved ones. They find people who are due an inheritance but don’t realize it and help them recover the funds-for a cut, of course.”
“Oh. Ohhhh. That makes more sense. I should have asked her more about her work.” Winnie’s heart hammered inside her chest. Had someone left Russ some money?
She knew of only one person connected to Russ who’d died with any money to speak of. When news of Sammy’s death had reached her a few years ago, Winnie hadn’t spent much time mourning the bastard. She had sent some flowers and a generic note of sympathy for Paula, because they’d once been friends even if the witch had stolen her husband, but then she’d promptly forgotten about it.
Could Sammy have left Russ some money? It seemed unlikely. He’d never once treated Russ as anything but an inconvenience and an embarrassment. And wouldn’t Paula have gotten in touch to let her know? Granted, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but still.
“Betty, you’re better at computers than I am. Would you help me look up some stuff?”
Fifteen minutes later, crowded into her tiny office, Winnie and Betty stared at the computer screen in shock.
“Ten million dollars. Sammy left Russ ten million dollars. My God. I’m going to be rich!”
“Uh, Winnie, honey, before you get carried away, the money is Russ’s, not yours.”
“He’s my son, my only child,” Winnie argued. “Of course he’ll share with me.” She closed her eyes, thinking of what all she could do with that kind of money. She’d buy the mink coat she’d always wanted, to replace the one she’d sold. And a brand-new Cadillac, the expensive kind, too, not a cheap one. Maybe a vacation to Paris. “I could have my own apartment in Paris!”
“Winnie, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I have to call Eleanor. She’s always rubbed it in that she doesn’t have to work because her husband’s so stinking rich. This’ll shut her up. And Lisa Gerber, too. She practically laughed at me when I wanted to run for garden-club treasurer. Well, we’ll see about that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sydney drove her own car to Russ’s house, following his Bronco. The road leading up to it was almost as bad as the one they’d taken into the woods before their hike, but that didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t see him living in some suburban subdivision. They were near a lake, she knew that, because she’d caught glimpses of the setting sun glistening on rippling water whenever there was a break in the trees.
But nothing prepared her for his house. It was fantastic-a redwood cabin on steroids. His property was right on the water, and she could just make out a private dock and a boathouse maybe a hundred steps from his front door. He opened the two-car garage and then pulled to the side, motioning with one hand that she should park the BMW there.
She slid the window open and he did the same. “I don’t want to take your parking place,” she said. Because the rest of the garage was filled with bicycles and kayaks and other sports paraphernalia, there was room for only one car.
“You’re the one who has to get up early. It’s supposed to rain in the morning and I want you to be warm and dry for your trip.”
That was really sweet of him. Since she’d had enough of cold and wet for this century, she accepted his offer.
She opened her door to find Nero right there, waiting excitedly for her to exit the car. The dog did seem to like her, though she couldn’t imagine why. She hadn’t given him one bit of encouragement.
“Nero,” Russ said sternly, “back off and let the lady move.”
Sydney looked into the hound’s sad, bloodshot eyes and she saw something there she’d never seen before. Nero suddenly had an identity, a personality. He was no longer merely a dog, to be lumped generically with all dogs. He was Nero, Russ’s dog, the first dog to ever like her.
She reached out one tentative hand and patted the top of his head. His fur was warm and soft. He seemed to enjoy the attention.
“I guess he’s not such a bad dog,” Sydney said.
Russ looked as pleased as she’d ever seen him, which was saying a lot.
His house was no less impressive on the inside. The focal point was a great room with a fireplace in the center that heated both a den area and a dining room. A large kitchen opened out to both areas. A wall of glass looked out onto the deck and ultimately out to the lake. Everywhere were the earthy tones of wood and stone-the floors, the high-beamed cathedral ceiling, the walls. It was almost as if the house had spring directly from the earth without human intervention.
Russ took her on a brief tour while Nero followed them around, his toenails clicking against the wood floors.
“This is amazing.”
“Thanks. I built a lot of it myself, though I had an architect friend refine my plans. Bert and a couple of the guys from town helped with some of the major stuff.”
Sydney turned slowly, taking it all in. The furniture had a slightly worn, comfortable look, as did the rugs. The place didn’t have the appearance of a professional decorator, but it all worked.
“Why don’t you sit down and put your feet up?” Russ suggested. “I’ll get us some wine and a snack. Our reservation isn’t until eight-thirty, so we have time.”
How civilized. A late dinner. So not everyone in Linhart opted for the early-bird special and went to bed with the chickens.
Russ showed Sydney to the most comfortable-looking chair in the den. She sat down with a sigh and put her feet on the footstool. Ah, heaven. She hadn’t realized how much her ankle had been hurting until she got off it.
It took only a moment for Russ to get a fire going, with the help of a gas starter.
“Now, that’s my kind of fireplace,” Sydney said. “I think even I could start
“It’s nice,” Russ agreed. “It rarely gets cold enough down here that a fire makes sense. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She heard him going into the kitchen and rustling around. It sounded like maybe he was giving Nero food and water. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a wine bottle being uncorked. He returned with two glasses filled with white wine and handed her one.
“Authentic Texas wine,” he announced.
She eyed it dubiously. “No kidding?” It looked like normal wine. “What shall we toast to?”
Russ raised his glass. “To…civilization. Much as I love roughing it in the woods, I don’t mind creature comforts, either.”
“To civilization,” Sydney agreed. They touched glasses and each took a sip of the wine. It was cold and dry and exactly what she needed. “Mmm, not half bad.”
Russ sat on one end of the sofa. “I happened to look out the window at the store earlier and saw you coming out of Rose’s dress shop. What did you think?”
Had he just “happened” to be looking? Or had he been watching for her? It pleased her enormously to think he’d been anxious for her to return.
“It’s a very nice shop,” she said. “Rose is a lovely lady and she helped me pick out the perfect dress for tonight, on sale.”
“It must have taken you quite a while to find what you wanted,” Russ said. “Either that, or it took you forever to get packed up and check out of the Periwinkle. I was starting to think you’d driven back to Austin after all.”
“Oh, I didn’t spend all that time shopping. I had my nails done.” She wiggled her red nails at him.
Russ went very still. “You did?”
“Yes, and don’t look like a scared rabbit. I met your mother and she’s absolutely delightful. I did not breathe a
