“How much did he lose, Pops?”
“Who are we talking about?” I ask.
The tension in the room is stifling.
“I’m a smart man.” Pops’ voice is almost fragile, something I’ve never heard from him before. “I…I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“It’s not your fault. Harry’s a conman, Pops.”
That name, again. My fists clench until my knuckles are white. Why is it every time something goes wrong in this family it’s because of him?
“I gotta know, though, Pops. How much did you lose?” Cian gives me the side-eye. “And does Madi know?”
“I’m not bad with money,” Pops says defensively, and I wonder if he’s saying that for my benefit. “We should’ve been okay. I even had enough to leave Madi a little nest egg when I’m gone.”
“How much, Pops?” Cian asks again.
“All of it,” he admits gruffly. “I didn’t know until I went to make a withdrawal for the taxes two years ago. He said to give his partner time and that it was normal. I never trusted Turd, but his partner, he seemed like a real smart guy. When all that went down last year, I realized everything was gone.”
“What’s going on?” I finally ask. I hate seeing Pops so…broken. This isn’t the meddlesome, interfering man I’ve befriended. This is someone else.
“Fucking Harry started running schemes after his…accident, but he had a friend who came to town a few years ago. He was…” Cian looks me up and down. “He was kind of like you. Rich, nice to everyone, and smart. Harry talked a lot of people into letting this guy, Sam, manage investments for them, and at the time, most of us were still trying to help Harry get back on his feet. Hell, I even gave the guy some money. Sam appeared to have all the credentials and he said all the right things. Not only that, but he also spent time in town getting to know everyone. Now we know it was just a long con.”
Cian stands and paces the kitchen. “We told you not to give him everything, Pops. What happened?”
Pops shrugs. “I wanted Madi to have a good life. I wanted her to stop working all hours of the day. I wanted to give her the security her parents took away, so when he showed me the return on my first investment and suggested I go bigger, I did.” He’s so dejected, I feel sick to my stomach.
“Sam and Harry preyed mostly on the elderly,” Cian informs me. “But we all got swindled.” He stands in front of Pops. “What’s going on with the taxes?”
Pops waves at us to follow him, then leads us outside to the shed where he pulls out an old toolbox. Inside are a couple of envelopes from the IRS.
“I don’t know what the hell this means,” Cian says, handing half of the stack to me.
As soon as I open an envelope, a heavy, old-fashioned key tied with a blue ribbon falls into my palms. The ribbon says The Hideaway on it. I turn the key over in my hands, then read the papers it was tucked into.
What the fuck? “Madi doesn’t know about this?”
Pops grunts, then lowers his head. They were close to foreclosure due to back taxes right up until seven months ago.
The weight these papers carry sits heavily on my chest. My knees are about to buckle, so I lean against the old wooden structure. “How did you know my grandfather?”
Pops shrugs. “Ace was a good man. We played poker a few times, kept in touch over the years.” His answer is vague as hell, but I’m still trying to work out why my name is on the deed to the inn.
“This doesn’t make any sense, Pops.”
“What’s it say?” Cian steps closer to peer over my shoulder.
“They were close to foreclosure, then seven months ago, Pops sold a portion of the inn.”
“Feck me, Pops. You sold it? Why didn’t you tell Madi? Criminy Joseph, this is going to break her. Who’d ya sell to?”
My chest tightens, and sweat forms on my brow.
Pops throws his shoulders back and lifts his head, his pity party for one apparently over. “I did what I had to do. I’m working with the police to get my money back, but this sale ensured we wouldn’t lose her.”
“It can take years, and that’s if they can find Sam and if the cases are found to be fraudulent. That’s a lot of ifs, Pops. It’s more likely that money is gone,” I say absently.
How the hell do I own part of Madison’s inn?
