Tribute

don’t know, and I’m not going to ask. Not in any lifetime. And I’m moving out of the crazy section of the veranda.”
    “Wait, wait. We’ll switch grandfathers. Brian’s. It’s hard to see yours holding so fondly on to all those photos if their affair ended so badly. But Brian’s was the type, wasn’t he? Powerful, important. Married. Married with a family, a successful—and public—career. He could’ve written those letters.”
    “Seeing as he’s been dead for about a quarter century, it’d be hard to prove either way.”
    It was an obstacle, she thought, but didn’t have to be insurmountable. “There are probably samples of his handwriting somewhere.”
    “Yeah.” Ford let out a sigh. “Yeah.”
    “If I could get a sample, and compare it to the letters, then I’d know. They’re both gone, and it could end there. There wouldn’t be any point in letting it get out. But . . .”
    “You’d know.”
    “I’d know, and I could put away that part of her life that I never expected to find.”
    “If they don’t match?”
    “I guess I’ll keep hoping I’ll ask the right question of the right person one day.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    IT TOOK FORD a couple of days to figure out an approach. He couldn’t lie. Not that he was incapable of it; he was just so freaking bad at it. The only way he’d ever gotten away with a lie had been when the person being lied to felt pity for him and let it slide. He’d learned to sink or swim in the truth.
    He watched Brian and Shanna turning a load of peat moss into the soil behind the completed stone wall.
    “You could get a shovel,” Brian told him.
    “I could, but there is also value in the watching and admiring. Especially in the watching and admiring of Shanna’s ass.”
    She wiggled it obligingly.
    “We all know you’re watching my ass,” Brian shot back.
    “It’s true. Shanna is only the beard. To be more convincing, maybe she could bend over just a little more and . . . I’m sold,” he said when she did so and laughed.
    It came, Ford supposed, from being friends all their lives. Only one more reason a lie wasn’t an option. But stalling was.
    “What are y’all putting up there?”
    Brian straightened, swiped a forearm over his sweaty forehead, then pointed to a group of shrubs in nursery pots. “Make yourself useful, since you don’t seem to have anything better to do. Haul them up here so we can start setting them, see how they look.”
    “He’s just bitchy because I’m taking ten days off. Going out to L.A. to visit Steve.”
    “Yeah?” Ford hefted an azalea. “So . . . ?”
    “‘The future has not been written.’”
    You had to love a woman who quoted from The Terminator . “Tell him hey, and all that.”
    He waited while they arranged the plants he handed up, rearranged them, argued about the arrangement, and eventually jumped down to study and critique the arrangement.
    “Okay, you’re right,” Shanna admitted. “We’ll switch that rhodo and that andromeda.”
    “I’m always right.” Smugly, Brian poked himself in the chest with his thumb. “That’s why I’m the boss.”
    “As boss, can you take a minute?” Ford asked. “There’s this thing.”
    “Sure,” Brian replied as they walked away.
    “Okay, this has to stay between you and me,” Ford began. “Cilla found some letters written by a guy her grandmother had an affair with.”
    “So?”
    “Big, secret affair, married guy, went sour right before she died.”
    “I repeat: So?”
    “Well, they weren’t signed, and Janet kept them and hid them away, so they became Mysterious Letters. In fact, we thought maybe, until Hennessy melted down, that the break-ins were an attempt by the mystery man to get the letters back.”
    “Wouldn’t he be, like, a hundred years old?”
    “Maybe, but not necessarily. And plenty of guys in their seventies once banged women not their wives.”
    “That’s shocking,” Brian said drily. "Hey, maybe it was Hennessy, and he had this wild fling with the beautiful, sexy movie star. Except I think he was born a dried-up asshole.”
    “It’s not beyond the realm. But, ah, a little closer into the circle of logical possibility . . . See, she knew your grandfather, and he was an important man around here, and came to her parties.”
    Ford stood, scratching his head while Brian bent over double and laughed. “Jesus. Jesus!” Brian managed. “The late, great Andrew Morrow doing the nasty with Janet