4

 

Shelby retrieved the envelope from the front pocket of her handbag and placed it face down on the tablecloth. She did it in part so Robert would see the distinctive Harmony Lane seal, the same one from the past century. “This envelope is what brought me to Edinburgh. I found it when I was going through my dad’s things.”

Robert appeared deep in thought. His brow creased, he smoothed one finger over the raised maroon seal. Turning the envelope over, his gaze swept over the small, precise lettering—a hallmark of her father’s penmanship—spelling out his name with “Personal & Confidential” stamped below it. “You came all the way to Scotland to deliver this to me, lass?” When she nodded, he lifted his gaze to hers. “Your daddy’s gone now?”

“Yes, and...” She hesitated before saying the words she knew might impact him even more. “Mama, too.”

Robert blinked, his eyes bright before he covered her hand with his. He might have felt she needed it, but perhaps he needed the personal contact every bit as much. “I’m very sorry, Shelby. May I ask when?” His voice was gruff with emotion as he massaged his fingers over his forehead. Beside her, Harrison murmured his sympathies.

Shelby swallowed hard, deriving unexpected, sweet comfort from these uncommonly kind and compassionate men. “Mama died five years ago from cancer, and Daddy suffered a massive heart attack six months ago.” Momentarily unable to speak, she dabbed the cloth napkin in the corner of her eye and released a shuddering breath. “I thank the Lord he lived long enough for me to hop a flight home so we could say good-bye. For the first time in my life, I fully understood what the word closure meant.” Biting her lower lip, she steeled herself not to cry.

“So young to pass, both of them. Thank you for bringing this envelope to me,” Robert said, his voice gentle. “I’m surprised you didn’t open it.”

Wiping away an escaping tear, Shelby smiled through watery eyes. “It wasn’t mine to open.”

Robert tapped the edge of the envelope on the table. “You’re honoring your dad’s memory. He’d be spittin’ proud of you for that loyalty. You brought this letter to me personally when you could have chosen a much easier way.”

Tears stung her eyes. ‘Spittin’ proud’ was one of her father’s favorite expressions. With Robert’s comment came a revelation she hadn’t considered. “I...” she said, fumbling for an adequate response. Her father’s whispered words from his deathbed wisped like ribbons threading through Shelby’s memories. “Before he died, Daddy made me promise to help this envelope ‘find its way home.’ I didn’t know what he meant, but”—she glanced at Robert—“given the circumstances, I’d have promised him anything.”

A week after Tom Harmon’s funeral, she’d found an envelope on top of a stack of legal documents in his office. If asked, she’d never be able to explain it, but in her heart, Shelby knew it was the one he’d meant. Sitting across from Robert now, she understood traveling across the globe to Edinburgh had been the right thing. Whatever his reason or motivation, her father had wanted her to meet this man.

Robert nodded and the envelope disappeared beneath the table, presumably into the pocket of his slacks. “I’ll open it later, if you don’t mind. In private.”

“It’s yours to do with as you wish.”

“I’m sure you’re curious, lass. I imagine it’d be a Pandora’s Box to most people. As I said, you’re a lot like your mother. In all the best ways from what I can tell. So,” he said with a nod to Harrison, “are you two game for a driving tour? It’ll give you a good bird’s eye view of Edinburgh, Shelby. Maybe you’ll find places to explore further while you’re here.”

“I’d love it, but please don’t feel obligated to entertain me.”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Harrison said, “but you’re a lot prettier than me. I hope it’s all right with you if I tag along.”

With a lift of her chin, Shelby held his gaze. “Why not? You’re always entertaining, Harry.”