“Ian’s boy,” Frank said, nodding. “The hair and the eyes. Can't miss it. Come on in.”
“Frank—”
“He's not going to bite anyone,” Frank said, already turning back into the house. “Neither is the dog.”
Shadow looked at Morgan. Morgan looked at Patrick.
“You don't have to,” she said, hoping he took the hint.
“I know,” he said cheerfully, and stepped over the threshold.
Frank pouredcoffee without asking whether anyone wanted it.
She guessed that was the polite thing to do when someone showed up at your door and didn’t warrant the shotgun.
Patrick sat across from her. He'd looked at the house with curiosity and recognition, filing it away for later consideration. She found it difficult to be annoyed, since she’d done the same thing.
“You know my grandfather?” Patrick asked.
“I do,” Frank confirmed. “Your dad and uncles too.”
Morgan looked between her grandfather and Patrick, sensing something pass between them.
“What brings you out this way?” Frank asked.
“Just returning something I found,” Patrick said easily.
Surprisingly, Frank didn’t ask what it was. Instead, he made a sound that was neither agreement nor skepticism. “Good of you.” He looked at Patrick over his mug. “Your father was a damn good systems man.”
“Still is.”
“And you?”
Morgan looked at Frank. Frank was looking at Patrick.
“Depends on the system.”
“Mm.” Frank turned his mug in his hands. “You planning to put it to use?”
Patrick's gaze moved briefly to Morgan before returning to Frank. “That’s the plan.”
“Good.”
The odd exchange had the texture of a conversation happening on two levels simultaneously, the surface one and the one underneath it, and she felt as if she were missing something on both.
They talked for another twenty minutes—about the pub, about Pine Ridge, about the house Patrick was renovating with his cousins. Morgan drank her coffee and watched them and noted, without comment, that Pine Ridge was even smaller than she’d first thought.
“It was good talking to you, Mr. Sullivan,” Patrick said eventually, and stood. “I’ll tell my grandfather you were asking about him.”
“You do that. Morgan, see him out.”
Oh, she’d see him out, all right.
Patrick said nothing until the front screen door closed behind them.
“About the campground,” he said.
“I told you. I was?—”