And if he couldn’t tell exactly where the movie was set, that would come with time. Right? Everything was coming up Morris.
Well, no. Not everything. Ty was still going to have to show up in front of Alan Chiu and defend himself for trying and failing to save someone’s life. The whole idea of it soured his stomach. It was one thing to suspect your whole town hated you and another to face the prospect of knowing it for sure.
Well—no again. Not thewholetown.
Ollie loved him.
A knock at the door made him look up with a smile. “I’m not exactly looking for privacy.”
“Didn’t want to startle you. You looked lost in thought.”
Ty moved over on the couch so Ollie had room to sit next to him. “I may have been building castles in the sky.” Which reminded him. “Hey, if you get a regular pilot’s license, we can get you a plane and you can come pick me up from Chicago.”
Ollie gave him a wry look. “You are not buying me a plane.”
“Well, I’m definitely not buying you a helicopter. Those things are death traps.” Could a helicopter even fly from Connecticut to Chicago, or would it have to stop to refuel?
“Do you promise?”
Ty would not promise. He didn’t know what a helicopter cost. Maybe someday they’d engineer one that didn’t make him fear for Ollie’s life. He decided to change the subject. “Everything good with Theo?”
“Yeah. I think, uh, probably some of the gossip around town tipped him off. And it’s not like much is going to change for him.”
True. Ty cleared his throat. “Well, that’s—good. I actually meant about the job thing, though. Not us.”
“Ah.” Ollie wiped a palm over the back of his neck. “Well, as someone recently pointed out to me, I have the time and financial security to figure out what I want to do with my life, so now that I’m done freaking out about that… I told my kid it’s what I’m going to do. Call it accountability.”
Ty grinned, his chest swelling with pride. Look at Ollie finally doing something forhimself. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “Although my more immediate future is probably focused on fixing the office. Um. Sorry.”
Oh, as if Ty cared. He waved this off. “It was already a disaster. My mess is your mess.”
Wow, that sounded kind of romantic. What was a home—a family—if not a shared mess?
Ollie kissed him again, this time soft and sweet. “Thank you.”
Chapter 19
OLLIE STILLdidn’t know how he was supposed to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he had never been one to shy away from doing the job in front of him. Right now that job was sorting through… stuff.
Ty’s father had kepteverything. At one point in his life, that had probably been a good thing. Ollie imagined businesspeople needed to keep all kinds of records. But somewhere along the way the disease in his brain had taken over, and now he had his attendance badge from the 1996 Republican National Convention in the same file folder as an investment agreement for a greenhouse operation signed in 2015.
He more or less had the important stuff separated out now, with the junk mail and trash in one box and the personal things set aside to go through later, and he was sorting the business things into files. Most of them had been intact, at least; only a few had been of interest to the later Morris.
The greenhouse operation papers were everywhere—in two different filing cabinets, on the bookshelf, in a briefcase, and under the desk. Ollie tried not to read them beyond identifying them—he felt like they were Ty’s personal business—but every now and again he got sucked into what felt like a soap opera for rich businessmen.
For example, in the early nineties, Morris did several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of business dealings with someone named Applegate, and then all those partnerships were dissolved and some kind of lawsuit ensued. Unfortunately it had either been settled out of court or Morris had lost the paperwork afterward, because Ollie couldn’t figure out who won that battle.
In 1995 Morris had gone into business with Alan Chiu instead. It seemed like half the town had come to him with their business ventures. He’d held people’s mortgages, owned property to rent, even lent money (at punitive interest) so people could pay their medical bills.
By lunchtime on Wednesday, Ollie was half convinced Ty’s father hadn’t died in a car crash, someone had murdered him. Whowouldn’twant someone this obnoxious dead? Maybe the townsfolk of Suffolk all actually hated Ty because they couldn’t hate his rich dad out loud or he’d call in their debts.
Finally he emptied all the misfiled cabinets—two in the back seemed relatively untouched—and the desk drawer and was ready to start putting things back in order. He turned to pick up the water bottle he’d left on the floor—and stopped.
There was a corner of paper sticking out from under the filing cabinet behind the door. Ollie must’ve missed it. Frowning, he reached down to pick it up.
It was a legal-size envelope, stamped and mailed, bearing the house’s address and Ty’s father’s name. The return address was a law firm in Bridgeport.