“You were fine when Hurricane Diana was coming in,” he pointed out.
“That’s because you were there.” Amanda slowed her pace. Her voice was earnest. “I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I always felt safe when you were around.”
“Even when my dad and my cousins came by Tuck’s? To get their money?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Even then. Your family never bothered me.”
“You were lucky.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “When we were together, I’d see Ted or Abee in town sometimes, and every now and then I’d see your father. Oh, they’d have those little smirks on their faces if our paths happened to cross, but they never made me nervous. And then later, when I’d come back here in the summers, after Ted had been sent away, Abee and your dad kept their distance. I think they knew what you’d do if anything ever happened to me.” She came to a full stop under the shade of a tree and faced him. “So no, I’ve never been afraid of them. Not once. Because I had you.”
“You’re giving me too much credit.”
“Really? You mean you would have let them hurt me?”
He didn’t have to answer. She could tell by his expression that she was right.
“They were always afraid of you, you know. Even Ted. Because they knew you as well as I did.”
“You were afraid of me?”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I knew you loved me and that you’d do anything for me. And that was one of the reasons it hurt so much when you ended it, Dawson. Because I knew even then how rare that kind of love is. Only the luckiest people get to experience it at all.”
For a moment Dawson seemed unable to speak. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“So am I,” she said, not bothering to hide the old sadness. “I was one of the lucky ones, remember?”
After reaching Morgan Tanner’s office, Dawson and Amanda sat in the small reception area replete with scuffed pine floors, end tables stacked with outdated magazines, and fraying upholstered chairs. The receptionist, who looked old enough to have been drawing social security for years, was reading a paperback novel. Then again, there wasn’t much else for her to do. In the ten minutes they waited, the phone never rang.
Finally, the door swung open, revealing an elderly man with a shock of white hair, gray caterpillars for eyebrows, and a rumpled suit. He waved them into his office. “Amanda Ridley and Dawson Cole, I presume?” He shook their hands. “I’m Morgan Tanner, and I’d like to express my sympathies to both of you. I know this must be hard.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. Dawson simply nodded.
Tanner ushered them to a pair high-backed leather chairs. “Please sit down. This shouldn’t take long.”
Tanner’s office was nothing like the reception area, with mahogany shelving neatly stacked with hundreds of law books and a window that overlooked the street. The desk, an ornate antique with detailed molding on the corners, was topped with what appeared to be a Tiffany lamp. A walnut box sat in the center of the desk, which faced the leather armchairs.
“I want to apologize for being late. I was tied up on the phone, taking care of some last-minute details.” He kept talking as he shuffled around the desk. “I suppose you’re wondering why all the secrecy about the arrangements, but that was the way Tuck wanted it. He was rather insistent and had his own ideas about things.” He inspected them from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “But I suppose you two already know that.”
Amanda stole a look at Dawson as Tanner took his seat and reached for the file in front of him. “I also appreciate that both of you were able to make it. After listening to him talk about you, I know that Tuck would have appreciated it as well. I’m sure you both have questions, so let me go ahead and get started.” He shot them a quick smile, revealing surprisingly even and white teeth. “As you know, Tuck’s body was discovered on Tuesday morning by Rex Yarborough.”
“Who?” Amanda asked.
“The mailman. It turns out that he’d made it a point to check in on Tuck fairly regularly. When he knocked at the door, no one answered. The door was unlocked, though, and when he went in, he found Tuck in his bed. He called the sheriff, and the determination was made that no foul play was involved. That was when the sheriff called me.”
“Why did he call you?” Dawson asked.
“Because Tuck had asked him to. He’d made it known to the sheriff’s department that I was his executor and should be contacted as soon as possible after he passed.”
“You make it sound like he knew he was dying.”
“I think he had a sense that it was coming,” Tanner said. “Tuck Hostetler was an old man, and he wasn’t afraid to confront the realities of his advancing age.” He shook his head. “I just hope I can be as organized and resolute when my time approaches.”
Amanda and Dawson exchanged glances but said nothing.
“I urged him to let you both know about his final wishes and plans, but he wanted to keep them secret for some reason. I still can’t explain it.” Tanner sounded almost paternal. “He also made it obvious that he cared deeply about you two.”
Dawson sat forward. “I know it isn’t important, but how did you two know each other?”
Tanner nodded, as if he’d expected the question. “I met Tuck eighteen years ago, when I brought in a classic Mustang for him to restore. At the time, I was a partner at a large firm in Raleigh. I was a lobbyist, if you want to know the truth. Did a lot of work with agriculture. But to make a long story short, I stayed down here for a few days to monitor the progress. I only knew of Tuck by reputation and I didn’t quite trust him with my car. Anyway, we kind of got to know each other, and I realized I liked the pace of life around here. A few weeks later, when I finally came back to pick up my car, he didn’t charge me near what I thought he would, and I was amazed at his work. Fast-forward fifteen years. I was feeling burned out and I decided on a whim to move down here and retire. Only it didn’t quite take. After a year or so, I opened a small practice. Not much, just wills mainly and a real estate closing now and then. I don’t need to work, but it gives me something to do. And my wife couldn’t be happier that I’m out of the house for a few hours a week. Anyway, I happened to see Tuck at Irvin’s one morning and told him that if he ever needed anything, I’d be around. And then, last February, surprising no one more than me, he took me up on the offer.”
“Why you and not—”
“Another attorney in town?” Tanner asked, finishing for him. “I got the impression that he wanted an attorney who didn’t have deep roots in this town. He didn’t put much faith in attorney-client privilege, even when I assured him it was absolute. Is there anything more I can add that I didn’t cover?”
When Amanda shook her head, he pulled the file closer to him and slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “Then let’s get started. Tuck left instructions on how he wanted me to handle things as his executor. You should know those wishes included the fact that he didn’t want a traditional funeral. Instead, he asked that, after his death, I arrange for cremation, and per his wishes as to the timing, Tuck Hostetler was cremated yesterday.” He motioned toward the box on his desk, leaving no doubt that it held Tuck’s ashes.
Amanda paled. “But we arrived yesterday.”
“I know. He’d asked that I try to take care of it before you arrived.”
“He didn’t want us there?”
“He didn’t want anyone there.”
“Why not?”
“All I can say is that he was specific in his instructions. But if I were to guess, I think he was under the impression that having to make any of the arrangements might have been upsetting to you.” He lifted a page from the file and held it up. “He said—and I’m quoting him here—‘ain’t no reason my death should be a burden to ’em.’ ” Tanner removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair, trying to gauge their reactions.
“In other words, there’s no funeral?” Amanda asked.
“Not in the traditional sense, no.”
Amanda turned toward Dawson and back to Tanner again. “Then why did he want us to come?”
“He asked that I contact you in the hope that you would do something else for him, something more important than the cremation. Essentially, he wanted the two of you to scatter his ashes at a place he said was very special to him, a place apparently neither of you has ever visited.”
It took Amanda only a moment to figure it out. “His cottage at Vandemere?”
Tanner nodded. “That’s it. Tomorrow would be ideal, at whatever time you choose. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I’ll have it taken care of. I have to go up there anyway.”
“No, tomorrow’s fine,” Amanda said.
Tanner lifted a slip of paper. “Here’s the address, and I took the liberty of printing directions as well. It’s a bit off the beaten path, as you might suspect. And there’s one other thing: He asked that I give you these,” he said, removing three sealed envelopes from the file. “You’ll notice that two have your names on them. He asked that you read the unmarked one aloud first, sometime prior to the ceremony.”
“Ceremony?” Amanda repeated.
“The scattering of the ashes, I meant,” he said, handing over the directions and the envelopes. “And of course, feel free to add anything either of you might want to say.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking them. The envelopes felt oddly heavy, weighted with mystery. “But what about the other two?”
“I assume you’re to read those afterward.”
“You assume?”
“Tuck wasn’t specific about that, other than to say that after you’ve read the first letter, you’ll know when to open the other two.”
Amanda took the envelopes and slipped them in her purse, trying to digest everything Tanner had told them. Dawson seemed equally perplexed.
Tanner perused the file again. “Any questions?”
“Did he give specifics on where at Vandemere he wanted the ashes scattered?”
“No,” Tanner answered.
“How will we know, since we’ve never been there?”
“That’s the same question I asked him, but he seemed sure that you would understand what to do.”
“Did he have a particular hour of day in mind?”
“Again, he left that up to you. However, he was adamant in his desire that it remain a private ceremony. He asked me to make sure, for instance, that no information be given to the newspaper regarding his death, not even an obituary. I got the sense that he didn’t want anyone, aside from the three of us, to know that he’d even died. And I followed his wishes, to the greatest extent possible. Of course, word inevitably leaked out despite my best attempts, but I want you to know that I’ve done all that I could.”
“Did he say why?”
“No,” Tanner answered. “Nor did I ask. By that time, I’d figured out that unless he volunteered it, he probably wasn’t going to tell me.” He looked at Amanda and Dawson, waiting to see if they had further questions. When they stayed quiet, he flipped the top page in the folder. “Moving on to the subject of his estate, you both know that Tuck had no surviving family. While I understand that your grief may make this feel like an inopportune time to discuss his will, he did ask that I let you know what he intended to do while you were both here. Would that be all right?” When they nodded, he went on. “Tuck’s assets weren’t insubstantial. He owned quite a bit of land, in addition to having funds in several accounts. I’m still working through the numbers, but what you should know is this: He asked that you help yourselves to any of his personal property that you may desire, even if it’s only a single item. He simply asked that if there was disagreement about anything, the two of you work it out while you’re here. I’ll be handling the probate over the next few months, but essentially, the remainder of his estate will be sold, with the proceeds to benefit the Pediatric Cancer Center at Duke University Hospital.” Tanner smiled at Amanda. “He thought you’d want to know that.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She could feel Dawson’s quiet alertness beside her. “It’s so generous of him.” She hesitated, more affected than she wanted to admit. “He—I guess he knew what it would mean to me.”
Tanner nodded before sorting through the pages and finally set them aside. “I think that’s it, unless you can think of anything.”
There was nothing else, and after their good-byes Amanda rose while Dawson lifted the walnut box from the desk. Tanner stood but made no motion to follow them out. Amanda accompanied Dawson to the door, noticing the frown forming on his face. Before they reached the door, he paused and turned around.
“Mr. Tanner?”
“Yes?”
“You said something I’m curious about.”
“Oh?”
“You said that tomorrow would be ideal. I assume you meant tomorrow as opposed to today.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me why?”
Tanner moved the file to the corner of his desk. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t.”
“What was that about?” Amanda asked.
They were walking toward her car, which was still parked outside the coffee shop. Instead of answering, Dawson put his hand in his pocket.
“What are you doing for lunch?” he asked.
“You’re not going to answer my question?”
“I’m not sure what to say. Tanner didn’t give me an answer.”