Gift-Wrapped Family. Lois Richer
made sense.
âDid you know her?â Miaâs curiosity was evident.
âI did.â Caleb declined to discuss his childhood interaction with the legendary legal genius, but he couldnât suppress a smile remembering Piaâs potent courtroom condemnation of his father. âI was her client once. I never forgot her.â
âI never saw her at work, but Iâve heard she was a good lawyer.â There was something wistful in Miaâs voice.
âPia was beyond merely good,â Caleb told her. âHer firm, Standish Law, was the biggest in the province. I remember seeing well-known people in her office.â
âI used to think we were well off,â Mia mused reflectively. âAt first I thought thatâs why Harlan agreed to marry me.â
âExcuse me?â Caleb stared at her. Who would need to be coerced to marry this lovely woman?
âI was seventeen and in boarding school when I was summoned home. My mother told me sheâd been diagnosed with brain cancer. She told me that for my own protection I was to marry this lawyer who worked for her, Harlan Granger.â Miaâs voice faltered. âShe said heâd take care of me.â
âHe was much older. Why would he agree?â Caleb asked.
âMoney, I suppose. Harlan received my motherâs law firm as a kind of dowry.â Her green eyes grew troubled. âMother had a nice house.â
âI was there once.â Caleb remembered his awe at visiting the huge mansion.
âHarlan sold it after she died,â Mia said, staring at something Caleb couldnât see. âI thought it should have brought us plenty of money, but Harlan said Mother had run up large debts trying to find a cure. He sold the house to pay off what she owed.â Her lips pinched together. âI was sorry to lose some of our things,â she added in a small, hurt voice.
Miaâs defenselessness, her sadness touched Caleb. He gave her time to regroup while he shot off a text message to his paralegal. Find out everything about Mia Standish Granger. Stat.
âThatâs why your claim is so incredible.â Mia rose. âIâve lived here since I married Harlan. Weâve had to be very frugal while he revived her firm. Weâ Iâm not rich, Mr. Grant.â
âYour mother didnât leave you any money of your own?â He searched her face, no longer certain she was lying.
âIâm afraid not. Everything goes to pay the bills.â A tiny smile flitted across her incredibly beautiful face. âWould you like some tea?â
âI would. Thank you.â Caleb hated tea, especially herbal tea, but heâd learned the fine art of pretending to drink it when his best friend Lara was alive, because sheâd loved tea and heâd wanted to love her. It still rankled that heâd never felt the strong emotion for her that Lara claimed to feel for him, to realize that he couldnât love anyone because of what his father had done.
Caleb shoved those uncomfortable thoughts away and concentrated on Mia. She had to be pretending her marriage was solid, but he was determined sheâd admit the truth before he left here, and if that required tea drinking, that was what heâd do.
âLetâs go to the kitchen. Itâs warmer there.â Mia waited for his nod, then led the way. âHave a seat,â she invited as she pulled out a mismatched chair from the big oak table. âDo you have a particularly favorite tea? I have a good variety.â
Caleb blinked when she opened a cupboard door to reveal neatly organized rows of small packages of tea. âDo you ever!â
âMy stomachâs been upset since Harlanâdied.â Mia regained her composure. âTrentâs been a dear friend. He consulted an herbalist for me and brings home teas for me to try. They havenât helped yet, but...â She shrugged and smiled. âTake your time deciding which youâd like.â
âAny kind is fine.â A previous investigation on Trent Vilang had left Caleb with tons of questions. âDear Trentâ had befriended widows before and some of those ladies had become very ill. Caleb kept his reservations about the man to himself as Mia moved around her broken-down kitchen.
Anything that could sparkle in this room did, but the house and especially this kitchen needed to be gutted, and no amount of soap or elbow grease could fix that. Then suddenly, beyond the kitchen, he spied bright sunshine.
âWould you rather sit in the sunroom?â Mia asked, noting his interest. âItâs quite warm today because the sunâs out. Thatâs when I love working there the most.â
âWhat is your work?â Calebâs curiosity built. Her job was one detail he hadnât yet discovered. Mia looked too delicate for any kind of physical work. Cellist. Or maybe pianist, he guessed.
âOh, itâs nothing,â she demurred.
Caleb thought that sounded like someone elseâs assessment. But he said nothing as she rinsed out a small brown china teapot.
âI dream up designs for quilt fabrics,â Mia finally said almost apologetically.
âOh.â That fit, Caleb decided, then realized that though heâd just met Mia, heâd instinctively known that employment suited her. Getting too involved. Maintain your distance, his brain scolded. That was difficult to do with this intriguing woman.
âWhen my designs are incorporated into fabric, the company sends me a bolt of each. I then make up several quilts to feature various aspects of the fabric and how to use it. Itâs nothing like the law,â she apologized. âNothing at all like the important work Harlan did.â
âWhy should it be like his?â Caleb wished heâd met the man whoâd made his wife feel that her work was trivial. âItâs just as important to have beautiful things in the world as it is to have the law.â She had the tray ready. âCan I carry something?â
âThe tea?â Mia smiled her thanks and led the way into a sunroom that took his breath away. Vibrantly painted canvases lay sprawled around the room, flowers in riotous color, a seaside scene, the cool white on white of deepest winter. âIâm sorry itâs so crowded. Harlan was always after me to stack these away.â Mia gulped, then reached to move one.
âPlease leave it. Theyâre beautiful,â Caleb said, and meant it.
âOh.â Startled green eyes met his before quickly veering away. âThank you. Please sit wherever you like.â She poured their tea and then sat across from him on a rickety wicker chair whose quilted cushion said it had been well loved. âMr. Grantââ
âCall me Caleb.â Nothing in her expression to suggest she was flirting or playing games, but Caleb clung to his defenses anyway. He had a job to do. He couldnât let her sad situation get to him.
âVery well, Caleb. Well, other than serving you tea, I donât know how I can help you.â Mia Granger frowned. He thought it a shame to mar the beauty of her face, but the helplessness in her next words irritated him. âWhat is it you expect of me?â
âIâm not sure.â Caleb remembered Lilyâs parting words. Can you find me a home, Uncle Caleb? Please? That plea from Laraâs niece broke his heart. âI came here hoping to learn the truth, but Iâm not sure you know it.â
âWhose truth? Yours?â Mia sipped her tea. âLike your claim that Harlan had a ranch.â
âHe