The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

the other man’s voice. “Abe Rosenberg?”
    “Yes, I got your name from him. He suggested you could call him to establish my bona fides.”
    Hampstead put Cole on hold again while he called Abe. Cole drummed his fingers and looked at the orchid sitting there so bright and exotic.
    He wasn’t going to take her seriously. That’s where he’d gone wrong before, thinking Dixie meant the love words she’d spoken. He supposed she had, at the time. But for Dixie, I love you didn’t mean I want to be with you forever.
    He’d enjoy her, enjoy their affair and keep his heart out of it. When it ended, he’d wish her well…and maybe they could remain friends. He found that he really wanted that. If ending their affair meant losing her altogether again…
    “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Ashton,” Hampstead said. “Tell me about this family matter you need information about. Confidentiality,” he added, “is a given.”
    “It’s complicated.” Cole paused. He hated discussing his father, but this was necessary. Briefly he explained about the recent advent of Grant “Ashton” into their lives. “I’ve no real reason to doubt him,” Cole finished. “But no reason to believe him, either, and I need to know the truth. The marriage license he showed us doesn’t prove anything. I don’t knowhow one goes about obtaining a fraudulent marriage license, but it must be possible.”
    “And there is potentially a great deal of money involved,” Hampstead agreed. “You’re wise to be cautious.”
    As far as Cole was concerned, if Grant wanted to try to swindle Spencer Ashton out of some part of his fortune, more power to him. Cole wouldn’t allow his family to be hurt by the man, however. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m having him investigated. My family has accepted Grant. They’d be upset if they knew I’d sicced a private eye on him.”
    “No problem. I only report to my client, and there should be no need to ask questions of any of your family members.”
    “So is this marriage something you can prove or disprove definitely?”
    “Certainly. I’ll need a few more specifics from you, then we’ll go over my fees.”
    They wrapped up the conversation and were going over the detective’s rates and expenses when something tapped on Cole’s window. He looked that way, puzzled.
    The sky was completely clear, and he was on the second floor. He must have imagined it. “That’s acceptable,” he told Hampstead. “You have my number. When can I expect to hear from you?”
    “Perhaps in a few days, but all sorts of things can complicate this sort of investigation. Many older records are not in computer databases. If I have tocheck courthouse records in person, for example, it will take longer.”
    Plink. Plink-plink.
    “And cost more, obviously,” Cole said, pushing his chair back. “Fine. Let me know when you learn something.” They exchanged obligatory goodbyes, and Cole disconnected. Frowning, he got up and went to the window.
    Another pebble hit it as he arrived. And below, ready to toss more missiles his way, was Dixie…on the back of his mother’s horse, with his horse in tow. She wore jeans, a denim jacket with a hot pink T-shirt and a battered black cowboy hat.
    Cole shook his head, grinning. God only knew where she’d gotten the hat. He opened the window and leaned out. “You don’t know how to ride.”
    “And yet here I am, on a horse. I must have learned at some point.” Her face was tilted up to him, her grin as wide-open as the day. “Come along quietly now, and no one will get hurt. You’re being kidnapped.”
    Dixie might be all play, but she was incredibly fun to play with. He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I want to be the bad guy. You can be the marshal and arrest me.”
    “This is an abduction,” she told him severely. “Marshals do not abduct people. Besides, I’ve got the black hat. I get to be the outlaw.”
    Cole was grinning as he took the stairs two at a time. He could faintly hear one of the girls in the tasting room giving her spiel, so he took the rear exit.They had a bad habit of introducing him to the tourists if he walked through at the wrong time, and he didn’t feel like making nice to the customers right now. He wanted to see Dixie.
    “You look great,” he said as he came up to her, laying a hand on her knee. “Almost as if you knew what you were doing.”
    “Of course I do. Riding’s easy. There’s no clutch to worry about.”
    “Thank God.”