“Pleased to meet you. I’m Ross Kiplinger, from High Point Insurance. I’ve come to ask you a few questions about the house and the fire. This might take a little while. Maybe we could go inside and sit down?”
Sara supposed they’d have to go over the policy Conrad had taken out on their house when he’d bought it.
“I can take Amy on a walk, if you’d like,” Jase offered. “But we’ll stay within shouting distance if you need us. Can we see some ID?” Jase asked the man.
Kiplinger didn’t look put out at all, just took his wallet from his pocket and opened it to his driver’s license. Then he took a security ID badge from an inside pocket. He showed them that, too. “I’m not an ax murderer,” he assured them. “I have a briefcase inside my car that has Mrs. Stevens’s policy inside, if you’d like to see that, too.”
Sara believed he was who he said he was. She crouched down in front of Amy. “Would you like to go for a walk with Mr. Jase?”
Amy glanced down at the stone in her hand, then up at Jase. “Can we find more stones?”
“We can collect as many as you want.” He held out his hand to her and she took it.
As Jase and her daughter walked off, Sara wished she was going with them, rather than stepping inside with Ross Kiplinger. But the sooner she received her fire insurance settlement, the sooner she and Amy would have a normal life again … the sooner they would leave Raintree Winery.
Jase and Amy traipsed along the trellises, looking for anything interesting to explore. Amy was entranced by the shape of a leaf, the length of a vine shoot, a tiny yellow flower that was simply a weed. He knew caring for a child was a heavy responsibility, but he imagined that the joy of living with one could balance that out. All those years he had taken pictures of kids, he hadn’t really considered being a dad himself, maybe because he knew nothing about lasting relationships. Maybe because since he’d returned home, the taste of the betrayal was still too bitter in his mouth. Dana’s involvement with another man while they were engaged, her desertion when he was at his lowest, still stirred resentment he’d like to rid himself of. Most days he pushed the past away and it stayed packed in the boxes up in the attic along with his cameras. But, for some reason, inviting Sara to the vineyard had unearthed much of it.
Sound carried across the vineyard and he heard the rumble of the black car’s engine as it started up. Kiplinger had been with Sara close to an hour.
Amy was stooped on the ground, her red-brown hair falling over her shoulders as she studied a bug crawling through the dirt. He crouched down beside her.
“That’s a busy bug, but I think we’re going to have to leave him for now. I bet your mom’s missing you.”
Amy looked up at Jase. “She cries sometimes. I don’t want her to cry.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Did Sara cry because she missed her husband? Did she still love him? Or had losing everything in the fire caused her tears to flow? She gave the impression that she was strong and could handle anything, but at night, when she was alone, what thoughts ran through her head?
“We wouldn’t want to make her cry. Come on, let’s go back and make her smile. I bet she always smiles when she sees you.”
It only took them about ten minutes to make their way through the rows and find the path that led to the cottage. All was quiet as they approached. Jase was actually a little surprised that Sara didn’t come to meet them. A shout across the vineyard rows, and she would have known where they were.
Jase could see Sara through the screen door. She was sitting on the sofa, staring into space.
Amy pulled open the door and ran toward her, holding out the stones in her little hand.
“Mommy, look what I found.”
Sara immediately took her daughter into her arms, gave her a hug and said, “Let me see.”
But Jase could tell the sound of her voice was forced. He could see her smile wobble. What had gone on with that insurance investigator?
“We’ll have to put your stones in a box. We’ll make it a treasure box.”
“I’ll put it under my bed.”
“That’s a great idea. But right now we have to get you washed up and ready for bed. Jase, thanks for taking her on a walk.”
“I need to snitch one of your bottles of water. Why don’t you put Amy to bed, and then we can talk about your visitor.”
Sara’s eyes grew wide and she looked almost fearful. “There’s no need—”
“I think there is. You look a little shaken up and I’d like to know why.”
She glanced down at Amy. “Honey, why don’t you go wash your hands and brush your teeth. I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Are you going to look for a box?”
“I will. Go on, now.”
When Amy had left the room, Sara squared her shoulders. “I’m fine, Jase. Really. There’s no need for you to stay.”
Should he push, or shouldn’t he? “I’m going to drink that bottle of water. After you put Amy to bed, if you want me to leave, I will. It’s your call.”
Her lower lip trembled a little but then she firmed it up and gave him a resigned look. “Fine. It usually takes about twenty minutes. If you get tired of waiting …”
“I won’t.”
Sara avoided his gaze and went to help her daughter prepare for bed.
Jase stood at the counter, drinking his bottle of water. He didn’t want to crowd Sara. If she wanted him to go, he’d go. If she wanted him to stay, he’d listen, just as she’d listened to him two years ago.
When she returned to the living room, he really wasn’t sure what her decision would be. Her expression was as worried as it had been when he and Amy had returned from their walk.
At first, she looked at him and said, “You might not want to get involved in my life.”
“Listening won’t involve me.”
Her pretty brows hiked up as if to say, You don’t believe that any more than I do.
He shrugged. Then he set his water bottle down and crossed the room to her, settling his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe I can help.”
“No one can help with this. Mr. Kiplinger was here to warn me they might not be paying out on my policy. He didn’t put it into so many words, but the insurance company believes I could have set the fire.”
Nothing had prepared Jase for that, but he didn’t step away. He just responded, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
Her voice almost a whisper, Sara said, “I don’t talk about my marriage.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Maybe you should.”
“I’m sure you don’t like to talk about your fiancée calling off your engagement.”
Whoa! So she knew how to fight when the time came. “It was a mutual decision when I found out she was unfaithful. Was your husband unfaithful?”
Sara looked around the room for a minute as if she were trying to find a corner to escape to, as if anything would be better than telling him about this. But then she took a deep breath and motioned to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”
“It’s a long story?” he joked lightly.
“It’s … complicated.”
What relationship wasn’t? he thought.
After they were seated on the couch, she turned toward him, her eyes a