Hannah had just unlaced her sturdy SAS shoes and kicked them off in the living room, and listened to the clunk, clunk, hardly caring where they landed. Grace retrieved them and set them neatly beside the couch, where Hannah sprawled.

“I’m pooped,” Hannah said. “It’s been a long day. I have no idea where Zachary goes. All I know is that Max is furious with him. Zachary, it seems, hinted at how nice homes would be up on Max’s hillside. Max assumes he’d like to cover the hill with houses. Not that he can, after all. The land will never go to Zachary.”

“But I can see why Max is upset, the way he feels about land.”

“He’s livid. I don’t know, Grace. Why can’t Zachary just sit down and talk about his future, his possibilities, with his father? I believe Max would help him get settled somewhere in some business.”

“Zachary’s not without resources, is he?” Grace asked. “He has a trust fund from his mother.”

“Bella must have known something she wasn’t telling. That trust fund is doled out to him at so much a year, enough to live on carefully, but he can’t get his hands on the lump sum. I guess she didn’t take into consideration that one day he might have a family to support.”

“Now that he’s got a family, I wish he’d spend more time with Sarina. She’s a fine person, too good for Zachary.” Grace paused. “I have an idea. Let’s you and I follow Zachary and see where he goes and what he does.”

“Bad idea.” Hannah dismissed it from her mind.

Later that evening, Grace found herself alone with Amelia. She explained the situation and her suggestion to Hannah, and Amelia responded with enthusiasm. “Just tell me when, and I’m ready. We could be regular Agatha Christies, you and I.”

Several days later, Grace called Amelia at Mike’s photo studio in Weaverville. “He’s leaving the house, and I’m going to follow him. I’ll call you on my cell phone. You meet me when I get to wherever he goes, okay?”

Within fifteen minutes, the phone rang in Mike’s studio. Amelia grabbed it. “Where?” She scribbled on a pad. “Okay, be there in five minutes. If he leaves, call me. I’ll take Mike’s cell.” She gave Grace the number.

“What’s going on?” Mike’s apron was wet from emulsions he’d been mixing. “I’ll be tied up here for another hour. I have wedding photos to develop. The Meyers are coming over at two to select their portraits.”

“Grace and I are going to follow Zachary. I told you, he disappears every day and no one knows where he goes or why.” Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you and Grace playing with fire? What if you find out something his wife would rather not know?”