Where was he? Why didn’t he call? He never went anywhere. He was the original stick-in-the-mud. Hated traveling to Northampton.

Fishing.

She couldn’t hang around the farm all day, she decided. She’d go nuts.

Back inside, she fixed herself a breakfast of fresh eggs cooked on the wood stove, toast and coffee. Barky always bought whatever coffee was on sale. She had argued with him about acidity, caffeine levels and soil quality, but he remained unimpressed. She had gotten in the habit of buying fresh beans at a shop on Charles Street and keeping them in her freezer, grinding just enough for her two cups in the morning.

But after the fresh air and all her work, she was delighted at how good the cheap coffee tasted. Its strong, bitter flavor reminded her of her uncle, and she realized how much she missed him. She had never been to the farm when he wasn’t there.

“Good God,” she mumbled to herself in the quiet kitchen. “What if he never comes back?”

It was unthinkable.

A little while later, the telephone rang. She pounced on it, praying it was Barky, but instead Caroline Kent said, “Up with the crows this morning, Ash?”

“The roosters. Hi.”

“You sound awful. What’s wrong?”

Leave it to Caroline to sense despair, Ashley thought, and told her what she’d found since coming to the farm. “But we’re doing okay. What did you get on Sarah Balaton—anything?”

“Of course. You want just the facts?”

“Please.”

“Okay. Sarah Balaton is in her late twenties, lives in a high rise near Galleria in Houston. She’s a vice president of finance for Crockett Industries.”

Ashley began loosening her braid with her fingers. “So she’s no slouch.”

“No way. Got her M.B.A. from the University of Texas.”

Ashley couldn’t resist. “How did you find all this out?”

“Two former clients from Texas,” Caroline said proudly. “But to continue. Sarah Balaton isn’t just any hardworking female exec. She’s Texas money and high society. Her daddy’s Andrew Balaton, president and CEO of Crockett Industries, and Sarah’s his only kid. He and her mama are long divorced. Sarah grew up all over the place, but she’s known as a Texas honey.”

“Who’s her mother?”

“Frances Balaton DiDomenico. Lives in San Antonio.”

“Great. Anything else?”

“Daddy’s first wife was Judith Land.”

Ashley blinked in surprise. “The actress?”

“As far as I know, there was only one Judith Land. She and Balaton were married shortly after Christmas in 1956 in Vienna; he’s a Hungarian refugee. She met him in the camps after the Hungarian Revolution. It’s all common knowledge, Ash. She died the following August. I mention it because not everyone married the legendary Judith Land—in fact, he was her only husband—and because she was the only child of J. Land Crockett, reclusive oil billionaire and chairman of Crockett Industries.”

“Daddy and Sarah’s boss,” Ashley said, ruthlessly untangling a snarl. Her eyes watered.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Caroline.”

“Shall I stay on the case?”

“I’ll let you know.”