Page 42 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets

“My go-to was bananas and peanut butter,” Margaret laughed.

Noor’s face lit up as she realized what wasn’t being said.

Elena bit her lip, a radiant, joyful smile breaking through. “We only found out for sure three days ago. Mike is, well, he’s already trying to wrap me in bubble wrap.”

The congratulations were loud and boisterous, a flurry of hugs that even the twins joined in on, sensing the excitement. For a moment, the darkness of the past few months felt completely gone.

As the group moved upstairs to the bedrooms, Margaret paused in one room, pulling fresh sheets from a nearby basket. She began changing the bed, her hands steady but her mind wandering.

“Charlie and Emily are adapting so well to the homeschooling system you all have here,” Margaret said quietly, almost to herself. “I was worried at first. Back in Richmond, education felt like a performance.” She hesitated, smoothing the sheet. “Honestly, I don’t even know what the Pythagorean theorem is, much less how to spell it.”

Flora smiled warmly. “None of us were born knowing that. The great thing is everyone has a skill they teach the kids.”

Elena nodded. “Like Sammy teaching geometry out in the barn or Rhys showing them how to track.”

Margaret chuckled softly. “Well, I suppose I can teach them poise and manners and maybe how to use eighteen different forks at a fancy dinner.”

The others burst into laughter. “That would be a very good lesson for them,” Noor agreed with a grin. “They will need to know that someday.”

Margaret felt a warmth spread through her chest. Together, they were giving these kids a whole new kind of education.

“Capability is the best teacher,” Noor said, lifting Amina onto her hip.

“It is,” Margaret agreed. “Emily told me she doesn’t miss her ‘shiny shoes’ at all. She wants to know if she can have her own garden plot in the spring.”

Flora looked over at Margaret, her expression softening. “They’ve found their footing, Margaret. Just like you have.” She paused, her gaze drifting toward the empty guest suite on the first floor. “Bear told me that Dog should be coming home about the same time as Nova and Blast. He’s going to stay here in the farmhouse for a while. Since his apartment and clinic were destroyed, he doesn’t have a place of his own yet.”

Margaret’s hand paused on the pillow case she was smoothing. The mention of his name still felt like a physical jolt. “Is he ready to come back?”

“He’s walking,” Flora said. “Jake says he’s stubborn, angry, and acting like an ass, but he’s walking.”

Margaret looked out the window toward Monterey. She thought about the “Nonna’s Legacy” funds she and Will had quietly funneled into the construction. She thought about the trauma bays and the 24/7 Urgent Care facility rising from the ashes.

She hadn’t told anyone at the Farm that she was the one paying the contractors.

“He’ll have a place to stay,” Margaret said quietly. “But when Barkley Berkshire gets back, he’s going to realize that the world didn’t stop turning just because he left. He’s going to find a town that took care of itself.”

She looked down at Yasmin and Amina, who were now trying to “help” by reorganizing the Tupperware drawer. She smiled, but her heart was already racing. She hoped Emery was still in there, under all that anger. Because she wasn’t just building a clinic for the town.

She was building a future for the man who had forgotten he deserved one. And when he finally returned to the main house, she would be right there across the yard. No longer a socialite in need of saving, she would be his partner.

29 - DOG

The flight from Boston to the small mountain airstrip had been short, but for Dog, it felt like an eternity suspended in the clouds. He had spent the last eight weeks obsessed with the mechanics of his own body: the constant, skin-pinching pressure of the socket, the stubborn tilt of his pelvis, and the weighted, artificial cadence that had become his new reality. He had analyzed every jarring vibration and every mechanical recoil of the carbon fiber until his leg felt less like a part of him and more like a piece of equipment he was forced to maintain. But as the wheels touched the Virginia tarmac, his focus shifted from his limb to his heart, and he realized he was walking into a mission for which he had no intel.

“You’re doing it again, Doc,” Jake said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Checking the safety on a weapon you aren’t even carrying. Relax. It’s the Farm, not a kill box.”

“Last time we were here, we were fleeing a sniper and a bounty,” Dog reminded him, his voice tight. “The perimeter isn’t exactly what I’d call relaxed.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed since we left for Maine,” Jake said, grabbing Dog’s rucksack. “Especially that woman you left behind.”

The drive through winding mountain roads was a sensory assault. The smell of cedar and damp earth, the biting January wind, the soft glow as sunlight hit the ridges. It was exactly as it had been three months ago when he had practically carried a trembling Margaret Fletcher into Bear’s kitchen. But as the iron gates of Mountain View Farm slid open, Dog felt a soreness in his hip that had nothing to do with a bear trap.

“Perimeter is green,” Jake noted, slowing the SUV as they rounded the bend toward the big farmhouse. “Bear’s truck is gone. Looks like the boys followed through on that fishing trip.”

“Good,” Dog muttered. He wasn’t ready to face the Brotherhood yet. He needed to find his footing in this new version of home first.

The SUV crunched to a halt on the gravel drive. Before Dog could even reach for his door handle, the front porch of the farmhouse became a stage. Flora stepped out first, followed by Noor and Elena. They were armed with buckets and spray bottles, looking like a tactical cleaning unit prepping for Nova and Blast’s arrival.