49

THURSDAY, JUNE 28
11:22 A.M.
CARIBOU COFFEE, RICHFIELD
SUBURBAN MINNEAPOLIS

Katie sat across from Ian at a table near the back of the coffee shop. Ian was pleased she’d agreed to see him today, after taking the last few weeks off to “think things over.”

The mug in front of her was still full, though no longer steaming. Ian wondered how long they would keep the silence.

“So, the family’s okay?” Ian finally asked. “Nicole? Richard?”

“They’re fine,” she said quietly. “How about Martha?”

“Still healing, but still unresponsive. Adrianne’s with her now. She’s optimistic we can draw her out.”

“Um-hm. That’s good. Martha will love having Adrianne around.”

“Thanks for the flowers,” Ian added. “I noticed the lilies.”

Katie looked up, surprised. “You’re welcome.”

Another long silence passed. Katie’s eyes began to rim with tears. “Your mother was there, Ian,” she burst out. “She was there when they killed my dad.”

It was out at last. “I know,” Ian replied.

“How could they keep that from me all these years? I thought they cared about me. Now I know they were just easing their own consciences.”

Every notion about how he’d handle this conversation, all his practice as an advocate, fled from Ian’s mind. “You know I wasn’t aware of any of it when I started at the law firm, don’t you? Even when I saw the old newspaper about the art robbery they’d packed with the crew’s tools, it didn’t occur to me the security guard could be your father. I only started figuring it out when I got back from Florida, but there wasn’t a time or place to talk with you about it.”

“I don’t blame you, Ian. But I had a right to know.”

“Me too,” Ian said softly. “They were wrong not to tell either of us. But for what it’s worth, I’m convinced they genuinely thought they could do more by supporting you and your family and keeping the secret than by turning Mom in. At least until the time was right.”

Katie looked thoughtful for a long while. “I never thought about how this affected you.” She picked up her lukewarm coffee. “I don’t remember enough about my dad,” she said. “I’ve got memories that he was kind. He was hardworking—doing his job, then taking on other work like the kind that got him killed. But I didn’t get to finish growing up with him. At least you had that.”

Ian felt he was the wrong one to make the next point. “It’s not much consolation, Katie, but I think Dad and Mom were trying to make that part up to you too. They loved you. They really did. Mom still does.”

Katie ran a hand across her eyes. Ian handed her a paper napkin.

“I can remember your dad interviewing me. I was all of eighteen and so nervous. He was asking me questions that had nothing to do with my typing speed or what I knew about a law office—which was slow and nothing. Had I traveled? What made me happy? Did I think I had a promising future ahead? Was I happy?—again. How was my mother making ends meet? All I’m thinking is, What am I doing here? If the high school counselor hadn’t dragged me to the interview, saying your dad was looking for people without experience, I never would’ve thought about a career as a legal assistant.”

“He wasn’t looking for people,” Ian said. “He had only one person in mind.”

Ian reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The amount of the check Lloyds will be issuing you.”

“The insurance company? Why? Why would Lloyds send me money?”

“Lloyds insured the stolen paintings. After paying off the art owners thirty-four years ago, they had a ‘no questions asked’ reward for the return of any of the Norman Rockwells. It was never rescinded. Part of our deal with the U.S. Attorney’s Office was that we got the credit for the last painting’s return.”

“I don’t want more money, Ian. You keep it.”

“I couldn’t keep it. And my parents wouldn’t have wanted me to. If you don’t want it, give it away. Or give the money to your daughter. But take it. Besides the job support through the years, I think getting you a final payout is the only other reason my parents didn’t turn themselves in sooner. I’m not talking about this reward for the painting. But I think they’d decided to give you the two-hundred-thousand-dollar fee for the trust work when it was distributed. After that, I’m betting they would have turned themselves in and taken the rest of the crew with them.”

Katie stared at the slip of paper. “It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah. But if you’re still looking for work, I’ve been doing some research. I may have an option.”

“If I take this, you have to let me use some of it for Martha’s care. I want to settle that stupid malpractice case as well.”

“Don’t worry about the lawsuit. Harry told me he’d represent me on the malpractice case at a cut rate. As for Martha, we can talk about that later.”

Ian rose to his feet. Katie stood too and gave him a long, tight hug. “I love you, Ian Wells.”

“Love you too,” he said.

She pulled away and wiped her mascara-blackened eyes one more time. “As slow as you can be, hon, I hope you’re smart enough to have figured out I’m not the only one feeling that way.”