Beneath the Patchwork Moon (Hope Springs, #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

convertible. No top. Stuff goes everywhere. Falling into places no one thought to look.”
    Was he saying he found something? “Oliver, just spit it out.”
    “Who is Beth Johnson?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Let me try this again.” He pushed away from the car to loom over her. “Have you ever heard of an attorney named Beth Johnson?”
    An attorney.
Oh, boy.
“Honestly, Oliver,” she said, gripping her keys harder. “I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
    “I found a plastic document file. Worse for wear, obviously, after ten years, but still mostly sealed. The papers inside had some water damage, but it had been wedged in a crevice beneath a rocky outcrop. Lots of the words were pretty clear.”
    “Okay. I care about this why?”
    “You’re going to pretend this folder didn’t come from the accident? From Oscar’s car?”
    She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how she was still standing. She could barely feel her fingers when she reached for the handle and pulled open the door. “Ten years, Oliver. I can’t imagine that it did.”
    “The one date I could make out was September. Ten years ago. So maybe you’d better start imagining.”
    Then he slapped his hand to the roof of her car and walked to his, leaving her there to wonder how soon her bottled-up past would crack open. And what the genie would do with all of her secrets once it was free.

    After her visit to the cemetery, Luna was emotionally wiped out, but she was also too tired to sleep, and that sent her to her weaving shed. She’d return tomorrow to the house on Three Wishes Road. She wasn’t up to seeing Angelo again. Not yet. Not until she’d digested what Oliver Gatlin had told her.
    Oscar and Sierra hadn’t shared with her any of the details of the arrangements they’d made. Their attorney’s name had never come up. But Oliver finding the document file in the ravine and being able to make out the words he had worried her. She was worried most of all by the date. That made it hard to believe the paperwork had belonged to anyone else.
    She wondered if he’d researched Beth Johnson before coming to the cemetery. If he knew who the woman was and had been fishing for a reaction, or a confirmation of his suspicions.
    Whatever he’d been up to, Luna didn’t think she’d ever been more grateful to Sierra and Oscar for keeping her out of the legal loop. She only hoped what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her with Oliver, because if she wasn’t careful, what she did know was going to cause her grief with Angelo.
    As always happened, once she closed herself inside her weaving shed, the outside world fell away. She loved her weaving shed, loved that it had once been used to store the tools her father used in his trade. When he’d built his larger shearing barn, he’d converted the building for her, finishing the inside with a hardwood floor, adding insulation, installing the lighting and climate controls she needed.
    Throwing the shuttle of weft yarn through the shed of the warp, she thought back to her first conversation with Kaylie Flynn, who’d so quickly become such a close friend after they’d met earlier this year. The other woman, having returned to Hope Springs to open a café, had asked Luna why she wove scarves and not larger items. Her answer rose now to mock her. A short attention span. Instant gratification. With the right yarn and design inspiration, a scarf took almost no time at all.
    But for the Caffey-Gatlin Academy’s fund-raising auction, she’d committed to five larger pieces sized for use as throws or shawls. She was hoping to trade on the success and reputation of her Patchwork Moon label and bring in some serious cash. Every bit of the work would be worth it, every cent raised vital, but she would be treating herself to a serious massage and a vacation once all was said and done.
    It had been a while since she’d sat at her loom for any length of time. She would feel it later, in her back and