Chapter Sixteen

After their near encounter with Oliver Coats at the antique mall, Kate dreaded running into the man again, but Pine Ridge was only a little larger than Copper Mill, so she couldn’t hide forever.

When she headed to the college for her class that morning, she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. Such a shame, and frustrating to boot. She was really enjoying Ellen’s class, and she preferred not to have the specter of Oliver Coats diminishing her experience.

Since their return from Chattanooga the previous week, their efforts to find the last painting had come to a standstill. Ellen still seemed spooked by Oliver, so Kate had backed off. Heaven knew she had enough things to occupy her time. But the closing date for the sale of High Hoot Ridge could happen at any time as far as they knew, and Kate didn’t want to give up without some effort toward finding the final painting.

Her devotional reading that morning had been about Daniel’s experience in the lion’s den. Kate smiled as she remembered thinking that Oliver Coats would have made a pretty good lion. At that thought, she tapped on the brake and slowed down. Kate knew, with sudden certainty, what she had to do to move their efforts forward. First she would go to class, and then she would beard the lion in his den.

AS MUCH AS SHE’D DREADED mounting the steps to Oliver’s home the first time, Kate disliked it even more the second time around. But she knew he was the key to finding that fifth painting.

She knocked boldly, partly to give herself courage and partly because she knew she wasn’t expected this time. Again, there was a long silence before she finally heard footfalls from within the house.

Carol Coats didn’t look quite so well groomed when she opened the door. She wore no makeup, and her hair had seen only a passing acquaintance with a comb. “Oh, it’s you.”

Those words were enough to confirm Kate’s suspicions that Oliver’s presence at the antique mall had been neither a coincidence nor an accident.

“I’d like to speak to your husband if I may.”

“Haven’t you given him enough trouble?” Carol asked, her forehead furrowed with worry. Or was it fear? Kate wondered if the poor woman could even tell the two emotions apart anymore.

“I won’t take but a moment of his time.” Kate decided it was better to avoid answering Carol’s question, since she intended to cause Oliver even more trouble before it was all over.

Carol pursed her lips as if she was determined to deny Kate entry, but then she seemed to change her mind and stepped aside. “Follow me” was all she said.

Kate’s heart hammered in her chest as she walked behind Carol down the lengthy hallway. This time, though, Carol didn’t offer her a comfortable seat in the sunroom or a glass of iced tea. She paused at the doorway to the study where Lela Harrington’s painting hung. “That woman is here to see you,” she said before slipping away down the hall.

Kate sent up a quick prayer and entered the room. Oliver Coats sat behind a large mahogany desk. He didn’t stand when he saw Kate, an indication of the depth of his displeasure.

“I hardly think we have anything to say to one another, Kate,” he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “You and my cousin are in cahoots to perpetrate a fraud. But you won’t succeed. I can personally guarantee that.”

“Fraud?” Kate was surprised, and then she felt a spark of anger ignite in her chest. “I can assure you, Oliver,” she said, “that I am not participating in any form of fraud. I’m far more interested in seeing justice served.”

“Ellen is acting out of spite. She feels cheated out of her birthright, but that was her grandfather’s decision, not mine.” He reached for a pile of folders on the desk, selected one, and then flipped it open in front of him. “The will is quite clear.” He took the top piece of paper from the folder and held it out toward Kate. She crossed the room and took it gingerly from his hand.

Spidery, old-fashioned handwriting sprawled across the onionskin paper. Kate quickly scanned the document, noting the date and the signature at the bottom. The text was short and to the point. Ellen’s grandfather had left his entire estate, including his interest in the property on High Hoot Ridge, to Carol Harrington Coats on the grounds that his wife benefit from the property for the duration of her lifetime. There were no other bequests. Only the notable omission of the man’s sole direct descendant—his granddaughter.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s quite clear.” Kate handed the paper back to Oliver. “But it may not be the very last will and testament of Alexander Harrington.”

“You think those paintings are really pieces of a puzzle?” Oliver snorted. “I suspect that hardening of the arteries may have addled the old lady’s mind toward the end. Of course, she wanted to believe there was another will. Although her husband left her a lifetime interest in the property, he made no provision for Ellen. No doubt Lela Harrington hated to see her own grandchild left with nothing.”

“I know that Ellen believes her grandmother’s story.” Kate paused to pray silently for an organized and shrewd mind. She needed Oliver’s help, but it wasn’t going to be easy to obtain. She had to present her case in just the right way.

“If, as you say, the paintings are a wild-goose chase, then wouldn’t it be better to prove it?” Kate reasoned. “Then there would be no doubt about the ownership of the ridge.”

“I have no doubt about it now.”

“But Ellen does. And she might need to speak to someone at the paper company about what she knows.”

Oliver’s expression darkened like a thundercloud. “Are you threatening me?”

“Goodness, no. As a minister’s wife, I do try to stick to the straight and narrow.” Well, she did try, Kate thought with a chuckle to herself, even if she wavered a little sometimes. “I’m only saying that—”

“You can call off your stupid search.” Oliver looked as if he might start snarling at any moment.

Again, Kate could only pity his poor beleaguered wife.

“Lela Harrington’s only remaining canvases were destroyed in a fire several years ago,” Oliver said with a glint in his eye.

“A fire?” It was the first Kate had heard of it. “What fire?”

“At a storage building on Sweetwater Street. I had rented it to keep some excess household goods. The fool owner didn’t even have smoke alarms installed.”

Kate couldn’t help but think that this piece of information seemed more than a little convenient. “Why didn’t you tell me that the last time I was here?”

“The last time you were here, I thought you were a student, not Tennessee’s answer to Nancy Drew. You wanted to see the work of my wife’s great-aunt, and I showed it to you.”

Whatever Oliver was trying to sell, Kate wasn’t buying it. “How many paintings were lost in the fire?”

“Half a dozen or so. None of them were of any value but the sentimental kind.”

Kate hesitated. How was she to proceed now? If Oliver was telling the truth, then the last puzzle piece had been irretrievably lost. And if he wasn’t...The story would be easy enough to verify. Most likely, any storage-building fire had made the Copper Mill Chronicle.

“So you’re telling me that no more of her paintings exist?”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “They were all divided up between the four cousins. There were no others that I know of.”

If Kate hadn’t seen Oliver at the antique mall in Chattanooga, she might have let it go at that. But he had obviously been worried about Ellen’s search for the fourth painting. That had to count for something.

“Even without the second will,” Kate said, deciding to gamble a bit, “wouldn’t it be the fair thing to do to include Ellen in the inheritance? Surely she has as much claim to the property as any of the others.”

“You want me to just give away hundreds of thousands of dollars?” Oliver looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head. “I understand that you’re a do-gooder, but I didn’t think you were an idiot.”

Kate bit her tongue before she could deliver a stinging retort of her own. No one was ever victorious in a war of words.

“Perhaps it would be best if I leave now,” Kate said instead. “Thank you for your time.”

She could see that her polite reply frustrated him more than any retort ever could have done. Kate tried not to be too pleased at having gotten the best of him through manners rather than temper, but she had to enjoy it just a little.

“Tell my cousin there’s no point in pursuing this inane theory of hers. She should accept that the past is the past and move on.”

Kate didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and retraced her steps toward the front door as quickly as she could, glad to escape from Oliver’s presence. She had almost made her escape when she heard a soft “Psst” from the room on her right. Carol stood just inside the room, half hidden behind the door.

“Kate?” Carol stepped toward the doorway and darted a nervous look down the corridor. “I couldn’t help overhearing...”

“Yes?” Kate asked softly.

“It’s just that...” The other woman wrung her hands. “That is, I wanted to tell you that—”

Carol immediately went silent when Oliver appeared at the other end of the hallway.

“I was just seeing her out,” Carol said far too loudly to sound believable.

Kate played along, nodding and saying good-bye. She moved quickly to the front door. Carol followed her, but there was no further opportunity for conversation. Kate could feel Oliver’s glare drilling a hole in the back of her head.

Before she could turn back to the other woman, the front door shut behind her, and Kate was left standing alone on the porch. Whatever Carol Coats had been about to say was now sealed behind the solid oak door of the painstakingly restored Victorian.