Leave It Alone
Anselm didn't come out of the kitchen for a long moment. When he did, his hands were steady, but his face wasn't.
"That's old business," he said. "Put it back."
"Grandpa, this says Halvorsen bought out Marchetti Shipping. That's Weston's family."
"I know whose family it is." He sat down heavily. "It was a long time ago, Isla. Different company, different men running it. Weston's father is dead. Let it rest with him."
"Then tell me what happened."
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. "I trusted a man named Franklin Halvorsen with a partnership. He didn't honor it. I lost the company. That's all there is."
"That's not all there is. You went pale when I said the name."
"Leave it alone," he said, and there was something under the words she'd never heard from him before — not sadness. Fear. "Please. For me. Just this once."
She wanted to push further, but her phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from an unknown number, forwarded through Weston: *Isla — this is Doreen. I hope it's alright I got your number from my son. I found something in the estate archive I think you should have before the wedding. A keepsake, of sorts. May I bring it by tomorrow?*
Isla stared at the message, then at her grandfather, who had gone very still watching her read it.
"Who's texting you?" he asked, voice flat.
"Weston's mother," Isla said slowly. "She says she found a keepsake for me. In the family archive."
Anselm's cup rattled against its saucer as he set it down.
"Don't let her in the house," he said. "Don't take anything from that woman."
But it was too late to say no. Isla had already typed back: *Of course, I'd love that.*