Brad poured coffee, then led Flynn out on the deck.

“How’s it feel to be back?” Flynn asked him.

“Don’t know yet. Odd, mostly.” He leaned on the rail, looked out beyond.

Everything was the same. Nothing was the same.

He turned back, a man comfortable in his frame. He had a layer or two of big city on him, and was comfortable with that as well.

His hair was blond that had darkened with the years, just as the dimples in his cheeks were closer to creases now. Much to his relief. His eyes were a stone gray under straight brows. They tended to look intense, even when the rest of his face smiled.

Flynn knew it wasn’t the mouth that showed Brad’s mood. It was the eyes. When they smiled, he meant it.

They did so now. “Son of a bitch. It’s good to see you.”

“I never figured you for coming back, not for any length of time.”

“Neither did I. Things change, Flynn. They’re meant to, I guess. I’ve been itchy the last few years. I finally figured out I was itchy for home. How are things with you, Mr. Editor in Chief?”

“They’re okay. I assume you’ll be subscribing to our paper. I’ll make arrangements for that,” he added with a grin. “We put up a nice red box next to the mailbox on the road. Morning delivery out here usually hits by seven.”

“Sign me up.”

“I will. And I’m going to want to interview Bradley Charles Vane IV at his earliest convenience.”

“Shit. Give me a while to settle in before I have to put on my corporate hat.”

“How about next Monday? I’ll come to you.”

“Christ, you’ve become Clark Kent. No, worse, Lois Lane—without the great legs. I don’t know what I’ve got going on Monday, but I’ll have my assistant set it up.”

“Great. How about we grab some beer and catch up tonight?”

“I can get behind that. How’s your family?”

“Mom and Joe are doing fine out in Phoenix.”

“Actually, I was thinking more about the delicious Dana.”

“You’re not going to start hitting on my sister again? It’s embarrassing.”

“She hooked up with anybody?”

“No, she’s not hooked up with anybody.”

“She still built?”

Flynn winced. “Shut up, Vane.”

“I love yanking your chain over that one.” And with a sigh, Brad was home. “Though it’s entertaining, that’s not why I asked you to come out. There’s something I think you’re going to want to see. I did some thinking when you told me about this deal Dana and her friends got themselves into.”

“You know something about these people up at Warrior’s Peak?”

“No. But I know something about art. Come on. I had them put it in the great room. I’d just finished uncrating it personally when I heard you drive up.”

He walked along the deck, around the corner of the house to the double glass doors bordered by etched panels.

The great room boasted a towering ceiling with a circling balcony, a generous fireplace with hearth and mantel of hunter-green granite framed in golden oak. There was space for two sofas, one in the center of the room, the other tucked into a cozy conversation area along the far wall.