Angie’s eyes sharpened and her mind focused. At once she understood that Sam had been carrying a heavier burden than she’d guessed.
“That’s when the talk started. Everyone says the fires aren’t my fault.” His gaze met hers. “But there’s a hint of doubt when they say it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Angie stated flatly. “Why would you burn down a structure you’re being paid to build?”
He shrugged and winced at the movement. “Maybe I don’t agree with the union ’s politics. Maybe I hate Homer Whittier as much as most people do. Maybe I want to extend the job and get paid again to rebuild the place. Maybe I’m just crazy. The one fact that no one disputes is that it’s a strange coincidence that my last two jobs have burned down.”
Frowning, she let her thoughts jump ahead. “So that’s why you put a night watch on the reverend’s house.” A third fire would not be coincidence. “Your jacket . . .” Her eyes widened. “There was a fire on this job site!”
“It happened on my watch. I caught it early before any real damage occurred.” Removing the pad from his eye, he looked at her. “No one knows about it.”
But he’d told her. His trust surprised and touched her, and made her want to perform some act to demonstrate that she was worthy. Jumping up, she took the folded rag from his hand and replaced it with another that was hot. It frustrated her that she could think of nothing noble or heroic to prove herself.
And suddenly it occurred to her that Sam had demonstrated confidence in her from the first. He trusted her with his children and his home. Trusted her with his money. And now he had entrusted a secret to her safekeeping.
She, on the other hand, had a secret postal box, spent hours seething and brooding about Sam and Laura, and she didn’t entirely believe that Sam would succeed in putting together the funds for Daisy’s operation. Feeling guilty, she lowered her head and chewed at her bottom lip. Suspecting that Sam might be a better person than she was a very new thought and not a comfortable one.
“You’ve had time to think about it,” she said after a minute. “Who’s setting your job sites on fire, and why?”
“I’m one hundred percent sure that Herb Govenor is behind the fires. I think he hired some thug to set them.”
The answer was so unexpected that Angie gasped. “Mr. Govenor would do something like that?”
Sam nodded and finished his beer. “I believe he wants to destroy my livelihood. If all my projects burn down then no one will hire me. If I can’t work, I can’t set aside money for Daisy’s operation.”
“You could find gold.”
“I’ve been searching for gold for a lot of years, Angie.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, and she saw how exhausted he was. “All I’ve found are small pockets. Realistically, how probable is it that I’ll hit my jackpot in time to meet the court’s deadline?”
She leaned forward, staring at him. “It could happen. You can’t give up now, Sam.”
His eyes snapped open. “I didn’t say I was giving up. Never. I’m saying I can’t depend on finding gold to solve my problems. I have to assume that what I earn on the job is the only money we’re going to have for Daisy.”
Angie glanced at the row of jars above the stove. At the rate she was adding money to Daisy’s jar, Daisy wouldn’t have her surgery for a year or longer. By then, Daisy and Lucy would be living with the Govenors.
She rubbed at the headache forming behind her temples. “So you’re paying your crew overtime wages so they’ll watch for someone trying to start a fire on the site.” At least that mystery was now solved. “What if one of them is the arsonist?” she asked, lifting her head.
“I’ve worked with these men for two years. I trust them.”
“We can’t save money because of the overtime you’re paying, but if you don’t pay it, there might be another fire, and then no one would hire you because they’d be afraid that their place would burn down, and if there are no new jobs then there isn’t any money at all. Sam, isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Which brings us to tonight,” he said, carefully touching his nose and grimacing.
Angie listened as he described the fight with Herb Govenor, getting angrier with every word he spoke. “There must be a way to stop him,” she said when Sam fell silent.
“Govenor’s right. There’s no proof.”
Unable to sit still, Angie stood and paced in front of the stove. “These people are unbelievable! What kind of grandparents would go to such lengths to take children away from their own father?” She threw out her hands. “Their focus should be on what makes their grandchildren the happiest. By the way, Winnie Govenor was here when I returned from seeing you at the site.”