“I love it,” she replied, her smile widening as she moved closer and held out her hand. “Thank you so much for selling it to me.”
Shaking her hand, Sam smiled. “I’m just glad it’s going to someone who’ll appreciate it. That old thing’s got a lot of life left in her.”
An hour later, the three of them sat at a desk in at Harland Bank and Trust, where Harper had just opened an account, and a clerk had transferred money for the truck purchase into his father’s account.
Caspian’s heart lurched out of his chest when he found out she’d closed her account in Michigan and had traveled all the way to Texas with her money in her purse. Alone.
Thank God no one had known. She would’ve been an easy mark.
Several grisly images of dead, vulnerable women rushed through his head. He’d seen way too many over the years. Granted, none had been in this country, but they’d been innocent victims, and shit like that went on in this country too.
“Why didn’t you open an account online and have your old bank transfer your money?” he asked, trying hard to keep his frustration and concern in check.
Harper shook her head. “No way. I wasn’t about to let some internet gremlin steal my life’s savings with a few clicks of a button. I wanted to do it myself and make sure it got where it was meant to go.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to point out she’d just allowed the clerk to transfer her money with a few clicks of a button when his father set a hand on his arm as if to stop him.
“And yes, I know, Mr. Martin here just used his computer to remove money from my new account into your dad’s, but this system is in-house, not out on the web,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “I’m sure it’s quite safe.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Mr. Martin rushed to reassure, handing Sam a deposit receipt and Harper a folder with her new banking information. “Mr. Anderson, the owner, takes pride in the fact our systems are very secure. We use the latest state-of-the-art equipment and encryption. Besides, we’ve been around for almost two centuries, and have never been robbed. I can assure you, your money is safe with us, Ms. Quinn.”
“Thank you, Mr. Martin. That’s good enough for me.” Standing up, she smiled and shook hands with the middle-aged, bespeckled man. Poor guy blushed and looked like he’d swallowed his tongue.
“Me, too,” his dad said, rising to his feet.
Cas rose also but kept his mouth shut as he followed Harper and Sam outside. After all, his presence technically wasn’t needed. Harper was more than capable of driving his father to the bank and title place, and returning him home, but he’d automatically driven his dad, and she’d followed. He told himself it was because Sam was chomping at the bit about losing his independence and Cas didn’t want to subject her to it.
But Samuel Taylor’s good manners were ingrained in him since he was a boy and he’d never be anything but nice to Harper.
Cas knew this but didn’t care to dissect his unexpected need to tag along.
Since the bank was conveniently located next to the older strip mall in town, which housed a pharmacy, a pizza shop, and Harland Title and Tag, they decided to walk.
He shortened his stride and listened as she and his dad discussed the barn wood. Then Harper mentioned her vision for the feature wall in Sam’s old bedroom.
“That sounds great,” his dad said, holding the door open to HT and T for her. “If there’s any left, could you do that to my new room?”
Excitement lit her face as she entered then turned to face Sam. “Sure. I’d be happy to. I hope to get started on Cas’ today, and I should be done by the end of the weekend. So, I’d be happy to start yours next week.”
“Wow? That soon?” his dad asked. “I don’t want you rushing on my account.”
She laughed. “I won’t be rushing. Trust me. Now that I almost have a truck, I can transport my table saw and make quick work of the cuts. After I treat the wood, of course. That’s what will take the longest.”
“Can I help you?” The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with cat-eye glasses and a tight bun, greeted them with a hurried smile from behind her cluttered desk.
The company was small and cluttered with outdated beige walls and rows of filing cabinets crammed against the sides. Behind reception, Cas could see and hear two agents working at their desks, shuffling papers and chatting with customers in low, businesslike tones. The air was filled with the hum of conversations, the soft click of keyboards, and the occasional ringing of a phone.
His father smiled at the woman, who instantly sat up and blushed as he filled her in on their reason for being there.
While they waited in the reception area out front for one of the agents to finish with their customers, Cas leaned back against the wall and glanced at Harper. “So, how’s the diary reading going?”
She chewed her lower lip. “It’s interesting,” she slowly replied. “I read another entry last night. It was a little intense, honestly. I had to stop myself before I got too deep into it and risked bringing back my own nightmares.”
Cas nodded and wanted like hell to ask her about them, but this was not the time or place. “Sounds like your great-grandmother went through a lot.”
“Yes,” Harper agreed, her voice softening. “I think Mary was only seventeen at the time. There’s definitely some heavy stuff in there. I just feel like there’s something she’s trying to tell me, you know? Something I need to figure out.”
His dad moved closer. “You found your great-grandmother’s diary?”
