He smiled at her good memory. “Yes, she is. I’m sure you could find the property records in the county courthouse.”
“Today? Saturday?”
“Oh. Right,” he said. “But then, you don’t want to waste your time with your young man in a dusty old courthouse, do you?”
“No,” Kim said, “I don’t, especially since we don’t have much time together before he—” She waved her hand.
Red looked concerned. “You sound like he’s ill. Oh, my dear, please say that isn’t so.”
“No, no,” Kim said. “He just . . .”
“He’s in the military? Facing combat?”
“No,” Kim said. “He has some personal business he has to take care of, so he has to leave.”
Red sighed in relief. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Kim snorted. “It has to do with his father and from what I’ve heard . . .” Again, she waved her hand. “That’s . . .”
“I understand. It’s private, but there’s a reason that I’m known around town as everyone’s grandfather. I’m a good listener.”
Kim smiled. “That’s what Travis says he is.”
“And is he?”
“Yes, very good.”
“Does he have other good qualities?”
“Of course. Lots of them.”
“Then perhaps . . .” He trailed off.
“Perhaps what?”
“Sometimes children can’t see their parents clearly. They remember that their mother wouldn’t let them eat what they liked. What they don’t remember is that they wanted to eat paint flaking off an old wall.”
From what she’d heard, Travis’s father hadn’t been around enough to know what his son was eating. Was he having an affair with Mrs. Pendergast all those years? But she couldn’t say any of that to anyone, especially not to a stranger.
Red stood up. “I believe I hear your young men returning, so I better go.”
Kim got up. “Stay and meet them.”
“Maybe this evening,” he said as he began to walk quickly. “I just remembered that I have a hundred pounds of ice in the back of the truck.”
“It’s probably melted by now,” she called after him as she watched him hurry out of sight.
“Were you talking to someone?” Travis asked as he came back into the courtyard, Russ behind him.
“The caretaker from the B&B stopped by. He—” She broke off as her phone buzzed. It was from Tristan.
GORGEOUS GARDEN. I WANT TO MEET WHOEVER MADE IT. I SEE COMFREY. IS IT POSSIBLY BOCKING 14? I NEED SOME TO MAKE COMPOST TEA.
She gave the phone to Travis, he read it, and handed it to Russ. All three of them looked at the herb garden. To a person who knew nothing about herbs, the plants looked very much alike. How could he pick out one from a cell phone photo?
“Told you,” Kim said. “There’s a Tristan here. So what did you guys find out?”
Travis spoke first. “Dr. Tristan Janes, born 1861, died 1893, aged thirty-two years.” He turned to Russell. “What did it say on the stone about him?”