“No time. But I’m starting to think again that what I thought was Jo’s diary is a book. I think Clara was writing about Jo. It’s more than someone would jot down to later remember what happened in a given year. The author is clearly trying to tell a story. I wonder why Clara didn’t write about Vincent instead of his sister-in-law. You’d think Van Gogh would be the more marketable topic.”

“Maybe she was an early feminist.” Bram nudged the bagel again. “Eat.”

I took what I hoped was a ladylike bite. “Could I ask you about something business related?”

“Can’t promise I’ll have an answer. I’m an estate attorney. But I’d be happy to listen.”

I gulped some more coffee. “I signed a contract a few days ago.” While I’d been sitting with Violet. “I want to buy out a partner from my startup. Trey put up the initial million-dollar starting capital. He wants it back. He also bought our third partner’s shares for two hundred thousand, so I’d have to buy that too. I can scrape together two hundred grand from savings and if I sell everything I own. The rest…” I hated sounding desperate, but sugarcoating the truth helped nothing. “If I can’t pay him by the end of the month, he gets the company. For peanuts.”

“Why are you splitting?”

I looked at Bram Sr., who was running his fingers over a window seat. Wonder what had happened there. “We no longer agree on what the company should do.” Full disclosure. “We also had personal issues. We were seeing each other for a while, and now we’re not.”

“How are you going to get the million?”

“I have to find an investor.”

“Are you looking for wiggle room with the deadline? It might be possible, depending on how the contract is worded. Have you talked to your own corporate attorney?”

“He’s one of Trey’s best friends. Trey brought him onboard.”

“I’ll talk to an attorney friend and have her call you tomorrow. You can trust Adele.”

“I don’t know if I can afford a new attorney.”

“You can afford a consultation at the friends-and-family rate. May I see your contract with Trey?”

I ran upstairs, grabbed it, and hurried back down. While I’d been gone, Bram put on reading glasses—dark, kind of square, all sexy librarian. He lowered the glasses and looked at me over the rim, probably wondering why I was tripping over my feet.

For a split second, I flashed over to an alternate universe where his voice dropped as he said, These books are late. Step closer, Miss Wilson. I believe you’ve acquired a fine.

I could not keep thinking stupid stuff like that. The corporate attorney he was recommending could be his wife. They’d probably met at law school. Or at Bram Sr.’s firm.