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she couldn’t manage more. “Have you met Jeremy’s son?” If anyone knew anything about her new neighbor, it would be Irma, who was privy to everything that went on in the island.
    “Oh, yes. I’d heard he was coming because Tom Richmond was Jeremy’s attorney, too. At the funeral, he seemed more ill at ease than grief stricken, standing in the back, watching everything, hardly saying a word. Once I ran into him in the market. He bought milk, bologna, catsup, bread, and beer. Lots of beer. Odd, since Jeremy was a gourmet of sorts and an expert on wines. But then, Slade doesn’t look anything like his father, either.”
    “Slade? He goes by his last name?”
    “Apparently so. Tom said that Jeremy referred to him as J.D. in the will, but as a grown man, he goes by Slade.”
    “Do you know anything about him, where he’s been all these years, why Jeremy never even mentioned having a son?” Briana couldn’t say why Slade aroused her curiosity so. Probably because she hated seeing anyone ruin his life with drink, and naturally wondered what drove him to the bottle.
    “Well, you know how closemouthed Jeremy was. Never said much about himself except he’d been a traveling salesman in California, and that he’d walked away from that life and moved here to paint. Tom had quite a time finding the son since he’d moved around a lot. Finally located him in Sacramento, where he’s a fireman. After the funeral, he came back about a week ago, but he keeps to himself, hardly ever leaving the house. In that way, at least, he’s like his father.”
    “What about his mother?”
    “Tom told me Jeremy never mentioned her. He did say that Slade spent some time in the navy.”
    “The navy,” Briana said. “That’s why he moved around a lot, like we did because of Dad’s navy position.”
    “Have you met him?” Finishing every crumb of her cake, Irma sipped tea.
    “Sort of. I was taking down the shutters on the porch and having a hard time. He came over and helped. But he was less than cordial, especially when I mentioned I’d gone walking on the beach and run across him yesterday passed out drunk over by the lighthouse. I think he was nursing a monumental hangover.”
    Irma shook her head. “Damn fool inherits one of the best houses on the island and probably a hefty bank account, to say nothing of a stack of unsold paintings worth a bundle, and he sits around the house eating bologna sandwiches and getting soused all day. Jeremy’s probably whirling around in his grave.”
    “You know, Slade told me he hadn’t seen his father since he was ten, and yet Jeremy left everything to him. That seems odd.”
    “Maybe that’s why he drinks so much. Those who lose their parents one way or another when they’re young never quite get over it. Still, the man’s going to kill himself with all that boozing.”
    Briana glanced up as the old-fashioned Seth Thomas clock hanging on Irma’s fireplace chimed the hour of one. She’d managed to fritter away the whole morning and then some. But she did feel better after her visit. Rising, she carried her teacup and half-empty plate to the sink counter. “This has been lovely and I’m stuffed.”
    Irma bustled about, finding a covered dish and cutting a large chunk of cake. “You can have some of this with your dinner or tomorrow. And I’m sending some chowder home with you, too.”
    “That’s nice of you, but not necessary. I went to the market and stocked up yesterday.”
    Irma shoved the first container into Briana’s hands. “Yes, it is necessary. I want to see you regain that weight and … and I want to see you smile again.”
    Briana pulled the older woman into a hug. “I’m working on it.”
    The phone was ringing as Briana unlocked the front door. Only her folks knew where she was, or even knew the number. She dumped her packages on the kitchen table and answered somewhat breathlessly.
    “You sound like you’re in training for the Boston marathon,” the man