"My ancestors weren't as altruistic or philanthropic as you. They not only kept it, they spent it." He gestured toward the house. "Built not just on whiskey, but pirate booty. The expansion of the distillery-the timing of it-the expansion of the house, those first innovations, the lumber, the stone, the labor."

"You're saying they sold the dowry to expand the business, to build the house?"

"In pieces, I think, if I'm reading all the accounting right. Over a generation or two, starting with the coldhearted Roger and Edwin."

"Oh. I have to adjust." She pushed at her hair and, he imagined, pushed back her excited thoughts of museums, and sharing. "Bluff House is Esmeralda's Dowry."

"Essentially. It doesn't add up otherwise, not if you really dig into the expenditures, the revenue. Family lore says gambling-they liked to gamble and they were lucky. And they were smart businessmen. Then the war, the buildup of the country. All of that, yeah, but gamblers need a stake."

"You're sure it was the dowry."

"It's logical. I want Tricia to take a look, to a.n.a.lyze, and I want to hear back on James Fitzgerald. It adds up, Abra. It's in the walls, the stone, the gla.s.s, the gables. They accounted for it, in their own way, Roger and Edwin, because they considered it theirs."

"Yes." She nodded at that. "Men who could cut a daughter, a sister, so completely out of their lives would consider it theirs. I see that."

"Broome came with it to Whiskey Beach, and Whiskey Beach was theirs. They gave him shelter, and he disgraced their daughter, their sister. So they took what he stole and built what they wanted."

"Ruthless," she murmured. "Ruthless and wrong, but ... it's poetic, too, isn't it?" She leaned her head on his shoulder. "And, in a way, a happy ending. How do you feel about it?"

"Maybe a lot of it was built on blood and betrayal. You can't change history, so you live with it. The house weathered it. So did the family."

"It's a good house. It's a good family. I think both more than weathered history."

"Ruthless and wrong," he repeated, "and I can be sorry for that. Lindsay's murder was ruthless and wrong. All I can do about any of it is try to find out the truth. Maybe that's justice."

"That's why I love you," she said quietly. "Just that. It's too early to call Tricia, and I don't think either of us is going to get any more sleep. I'm going to make us some eggs."

"That's why I love you." On a laugh, he turned to her, pulled her in. And as his gaze drifted over her head, he went still.

He saw, down at the point, a shimmer of light. "Wait."

He moved quickly to the telescope, peered through. Straightening, he looked at Abra.

"He's back."

With a hand gripped on his arm, she looked for herself. "I kept wishing for this, so it could be done and over, but now that it is ..." She took a moment to evaluate. "I feel the same way. Now, we do something." She sent him a cool, fierce smile. "Let's break some eggs."

While she did so literally, and Eli made coffee, it struck him it might have been any morning, even if it started at barely five a.m. Two people in love-and that was new and fresh and energizing-fixing breakfast.

All you had to do was leave out the murderer.

"We could call Corbett," Abra said, rinsing berries in the sink. "He could have that conversation."

"Yeah, we could."

"And that wouldn't accomplish much. A conversation over a man I saw in a bar."

"A man Lindsay cheated with, who bought property in Whiskey Beach."

"Which Lawyer Landon tells me won't hold up in court."

Eli studied her, set her coffee on the counter. "It's a step."

"A small one on a very slow walk, and one that lets Suskind know you know. Doesn't that forearm him?"

"A step that may spook him, even might influence him to leave Whiskey Beach. The threat here's eliminated while the investigation into Duncan's death continues, and we take the next steps to verifying the facts regarding the dowry, Edwin Landon, James Fitzgerald and so on."

"'Verifying the facts regarding' is edging toward more lawyer talk."

"Even when I practiced law, lawyer snark didn't bother me."

She sliced some b.u.t.ter into a heated skillet, smiled at him while it sizzled. "Such a fine line between truth and snark. In any case, action's more satisfying than snark. We've got a shot, Eli, at proving he's the one breaking into Bluff House. Prove that and it not only leads to hanging him for Hester's fall, and that's huge, I think, for both of us, but it adds weight to his a.s.sociation with Duncan. Link them together, and it's a short slide to incriminating him for murder."

"A lot of soft spots on that path."

She poured beaten eggs into the skillet. "They hounded you for a year over Lindsay's death, with less cause, with no evidence. I say we give karma a hand and let the man who, at the least, played a part in that experience the same."

"Is 'karma' another word for 'payback' in this case?"

"You say potato."

She plated eggs, fruit, slices of whole wheat bread she'd toasted. "Why don't we eat in the morning room? We can watch the sun come up."

"Before that, is it s.e.xist for me to say I love watching you cook breakfast, especially in that robe?"

"It would be s.e.xist if you expected or demanded it." Slowly, she trailed her fingers down the side of the robe. "Enjoying it just shows you have good taste."

"That's what I thought."

They carried the plates, the coffee into the morning room, sat in front of the wide bow of gla.s.s. Abra scooped up a bite of eggs.

"To continue that thought," she added, "it would be s.e.xist for you to think you need to get me safely out of the way before you follow through on the plan to lure Suskind into the house."

"I didn't say anything about that."

"A woman in love is a mind reader."

G.o.d, he hoped not, though she'd already showed that apt.i.tude too often for comfort. "If we tried the lure, and if it worked, there's no need for both of us to be here."

"Fine. Where will you be while I video him from the pa.s.sage?" Expression placid, she popped a berry into her mouth. "I'd need to be able to contact you as soon as it's done."

"Being a smart-a.s.s before dawn's annoying."

"So is any attempt to protect the little woman. I'm not little, and I think I've already demonstrated I can handle myself."

"I didn't know I loved you when I first started talking about doing this. I hadn't-wasn't able-to open up to everything I feel for you. And it changes everything." He laid a hand over hers. "Everything. I want the answers. I want the truth about what happened to Lindsay, to Gran, about everything that's happened since I came back to Whiskey Beach. I want them on what happened two hundred years ago. But I could let it go, every bit of it, if I thought finding those answers could hurt you."

"I know you mean that, and it just ..." She turned her hand under his so their fingers linked. "It just fills me. But I need the answers, too, Eli. For us. So let's trust each other to take care of each other, and find them together."