She was debating whether to turn and leave when he saw her.
“Beth!” he called, overloud. His smile was broad. He looked younger than she’d seen him in the past, looser. As if the weight of the world had temporarily been relocated to someone else’s shoulders. “I’m glad you came.”
She ducked under the naval ship bell hanging above the booth and lowered herself onto the bench across from him. He smiled, and she got a whiff of pine needles and granite, laced with scotch.
Scotty walked over, a dish towel in his hand, thick eyebrows raised high above his weathered face.
“Can I have a Corona, please?” Beth asked.
“And another one of these,” Martin added.
“You got it, boss.”
After Scotty brought their drinks, Martin raised his glass.
“I’ve learned a lot about my father, these past few days,” he said. “The work he did, the things he held on to. But there’s still so much I’ll never know.”
Beth raised her beer bottle, unsure how to pick up his thread. “That’s the beauty of the people we love,” she finally said. “No matter how well we know them, there’s always more to discover.”
It wasn’t the most graceful toast, but then again, Martin didn’t seem sober enough to notice. They clinked, then sat there, sipping in companionable silence. The jukebox flipped from Sammy Davis to the Smiths, and Martin bobbed his head to the music, drumming along with his fingers on the table.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a New Wave fan,” Beth said.
“My mom.” He pulled his hands back from the table and smiled again. “She’d sing along to the radio while she was cooking. When I was a kid. She loved those mopey British guys.”
“You were close.”
“You only get one mother, right?” Martin ran his hand through his hair. “My dad passing, it makes me think of her too. The ranch is full of ghosts these days.”
“How’s your sister handling it?”
“General Di? Driving me up the wall. I keep telling her she can go home, but she insists on staying at the ranch with me, getting drunk on expensive wine and making wounded noises about every item I put in the pile to give away.”
“She must really miss your dad.”
“I think she’s been using the ranch to get away from her husband. From what I hear, Frank’s got girls all over town. I pitched him on an investment once, for my last company, but he said start-ups were too risky for his bank to get involved with. Please. The guy’s banging cocktail waitresses and I’m the one taking a risk? No wonder Di was always riding horses in Elkhorn with Dad.”
While Beth had never cared for Lady Di, she felt a prickle of discomfort at Martin’s drunken revelations. She tried to steer the conversation in a less embarrassing direction. “Were they close?”
Martin sipped his whiskey. “I guess so? They’re both horse fanatics. But to be honest, I don’t know much about their relationship. Di and I haven’t spent a lot of time together as adults. We split up the days down here to help Dad, and it felt like she was always leaving right before I came.”
“Weird how tragedy can bring family together. Not always in the ways you want.”
“Tragedy.” Martin gave her a lopsided smile. “I believe my sister assigned that moniker to an antique wagon wheel this morning.”
“My mother would probably agree with her.”
“How’s she doing? Still recovering from the fire?”
“I’m not sure I’d say that. She’s been obsessing over a bunch of old maps and documents she found at the land trust. It’s kind of nice to see her working on it.” Beth was surprised to hear herself say it out loud. But it was true.
“Has she found the smoking gun yet?”
“I don’t think so. When I left this morning, she was on the phone berating someone at the Farm Bureau about a fruit company’s business permit. But”—Beth reached into her bag—“I did find something that belongs to you.”
Beth scooted around to join Martin on his bench and handed him the manila envelope from the San Francisco architect.
“What’s this?” Martin asked.
“I don’t know,” Beth said. She took a sip of her beer, avoiding his glassy eyes. “It was stuck in the mail room at Bayshore Oaks. For your dad.”
Martin tore open the package. For a minute, he was engrossed, leafing through the papers. She snuck some glances, careful not to be obvious. Then Martin swept them back into the envelope.