Hiring a rainmaker was a desperate measure and they both knew it. Russell remembered so-called rainmakers being run out of town in Texas after they failed to make it rain and talk had turned violent.

“They’ve suggested a rainmaker who’s been here before,” Grayson said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a slip of paper. “I got his name and number.”

“I’ll make the call,” Russell said and saw his father’s relief as he handed over the information.

One inch of rain was worth a million dollars in this part of the country. Fifteen thousand to make it rain was cheap. If this Finnegan Amherst could make it rain, then he would be worth every penny.

“And go check on that woman,” Grayson said as he started to leave. “Make her an offer she can’t refuse,” he added with a wink.

Dulcie pushed the door of the old house all the way open and was hit with a blast of stale, putrid air. She recoiled, questioning her sanity. Did she really have to go into this house? What more could she hope to learn about the former owner and her daughter in a house that had been empty for the past twenty-four years?

She didn’t know, but she had to find out what the connection was between her and Laura Beaumont. If it was in this house, then she had to look. This was her house now, she reminded herself.

Screwing up her courage, she took a tentative step inside. Instantly she was as fascinated as she’d been when she’d looked in the window the day before. The house seemed to have been frozen in time. Nothing out of place. Obviously forensics hadn’t torn the house apart like they would have nowadays at a crime scene.

She tried the floorboards, testing them with her weight as she recalled what Russell Corbett had said and mugged a face at the thought. The man was infuriating, but he had gotten her into the house, and for that she would forgive him his oh-so-male arrogance.

The dusty, worn wooden floor creaked and groaned a little, but seemed solid enough as Dulcie entered the room. She left the front door open for the air. Even hot air from outside was better than nothing. It also let in light so she could see better. Both good reasons, although the truth was she wanted the door wide open in case she needed to make a run for it.

The living room was just as it had appeared through the window. She moved slowly through the room, trying to imagine the woman who’d lived here sitting in that chair with the glass and book next to it on the table.

How was it possible that she had been left this property and knew nothing about Laura Beaumont or her daughter? Her parents must have befriended the woman, helped her out maybe through some organization.