Barney shook his head, more sure this time. “It definitely wasn’t there. Most everything is ash or broken glass, I’m afraid. And it stinks to high heaven.”
Sam nodded from where he stood a few feet away. I’d begun to notice when Barney was around, Sam seemed to keep his distance. I wondered why. Was he afraid of interfering in some perceived relationship of mine?
Sam cleared his throat. “I didn’t see anything like that when I was there either, but then again, the investigator didn’t let me very far into the building because it was considered a crime scene.”
“You went to the shop, too?” I asked him.
Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I boarded it up. Remember?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just turned around… When you were there, did you see anything else worth saving?”
Sam glanced at Barney, then back at me. He spoke carefully. “Truman, there wasn’t even a single square-inch of wood from an interior wall or piece of furniture that wasn’t burned. Nothing survived that fire in one piece.”
I met his eyes and saw the truth in them.
This notebook hadn’t been in the fire.
17
Sam
I wasn’t sure what the older man was playing at, but I didn’t like it. Barney had obviously lifted the notebook from Truman’s house while he was creeping on the guy the other day. It was clear Truman had understood what I was saying about the notebook not being in the fire, but he did a good job changing the subject before Barney caught on.
“Do you think the insurance company will send out an adjuster?” Truman asked Barney. It was the perfect distraction. Barney puffed up and began giving Truman advice on how to handle the insurance adjuster. Meanwhile, Tiller raised an eyebrow at me and nodded his head toward the back door.
“Will you come check out a rotten board I found? I wanted you to tell me if I should replace it.”
I nodded and found my boots next to where I’d tossed my saddlebags in the corner of the kitchen by the back door. I shoved my feet into them before following Tiller outside.
“That guy is a meddling prick,” I muttered once we reached the privacy of the backyard.
“No kidding. Also a pompous windbag, which is an expression I’ve always wanted an excuse to use.”
I took in a deep breath of cool, clean mountain air. This really was a beautiful place. The ski mountain sat right behind their house, and the trees were beginning to bud. “You don’t really have a rotten board, do you?” I asked.
Tiller shrugged. “Probably. This place is huge. I’m sure something’s rotten somewhere.”
“That notebook wasn’t in the fire,” I said.
“No. It wasn’t. Seems to me the guy swiped it from the farm and is using it to try and be a hero. What an idiot. Not sure I could have stayed in there without laughing in his face.”
He was right. It was embarrassing. Barney was so intent on winning Truman over, he was willing to use the fire as a way of appearing the savior. If he wasn’t such a plodding Goody Two-shoes, I might have suspected him of actual arson. Instead, I mostly suspected him of being pathetic.
I was grateful there were plenty of other people in town Truman could rely on besides Barney Balderson. It was a good community, and this visit had confirmed it for me. Tiller and Mikey had moved from Houston into a much better social situation.
I envied them their future here and wondered if now was a good time to ask Tiller how serious he’d been about an opportunity for me here.
“When you decided to move to Aster Valley, did you… how did you make such a big decision that quickly?”
Tiller thought about it for a little while as we walked down into the yard and across the grass toward the tree line. “I didn’t decide to move to Aster Valley,” he said with a soft smile. “I decided to do whatever it took to make Michael Vining happy. And Mikey was going to move here with or without me. So I bought this place to make him happy. And I moved to Aster Valley because that’s where my Mikey was.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it was. I would give up my NFL contract for him, Sam. And you know it.”
I did. Tiller would do anything for Mikey, but the feeling went both ways. Which was why they were able to have both Mikey’s future resort in Aster Valley and Tiller’s current NFL career in Houston.
I thought about my life back in Houston, my family, my company. None of it meant very much if Mikey and Tiller were here.
And if Truman was here.
“I never saw myself settling down with someone,” I admitted. “I thought I was shit at relationships.”
Tiller glanced over at me. “You were shit at relationships,” he said with a smirk. “Because you always put your family first.”