Free Finding Home by Marie Ferrarella Page A

more-than-successful neurosurgeon husband.
    You sure knew how to live, Uncle Titus.
    â€œThe funeral will be tomorrow at ten,” Ian informed her as the limousine pulled up onto the stone-paved driveway.
    The driveway was huge and could have easily been converted into a small parking lot. He might have espoused the simple life, but there was definitely a side of her uncle that cleaved to affluence.
    Not as simple as you wanted everyone to believe, were you, Uncle Titus?
    â€œThe reading of the will will take place shortly after we return from the service,” Ian was saying as he slid out of the vehicle, then proceeded to hold the umbrella at the ready for her.
    â€œThe will?” Stacey echoed, getting out of the limousine.
    In the rush to prepare for her trip, she hadn’t even thought that there might be a will, or that she was in it. Her uncle had been eccentric. She’d just assumed that he would be leaving his money to some organization.
    â€œYes.” Lightly placing his fingers against her elbow, Ian guided her toward the front door. “Your uncle left strict instructions that he wanted everyone named in his will to be present for the reading. If they weren’t—” safely under the shelter of the roof, the lawyer closed the umbrella with a dramatic gesture “—they would forfeit their inheritance.”
    Inheritance. That made it sound official. And expensive. Titus had favored threadbare clothing that looked as if it had come directly from a Salvation Army outlet store. The two images didn’t jibe.
    Ian rapped once and the door instantly opened. A petite, dark-haired woman in a maid’s uniform stood almost directly behind the door. She offered Stacey a shy smile before she took three steps back, admitting her.
    â€œAre there going to be many people at the service?” Stacey asked the lawyer.
    â€œEnough.”
    How many is enough? she wondered. A lot, she hoped.
    â€œGood.” Stacey allowed a smile to blossom on her lips for the first time since she’d heard the news of his death. “Uncle Titus always liked a crowd gathered in his honor.”

CHAPTER 10
    Stacey covertly scanned the open field.
    There appeared to be about thirty-five people in all. Thirty-five people standing in the inhospitable rain, listening to the rhythmic recitation in a tongue they couldn’t begin to comprehend. The words were said over a sky-blue urn, uttered by a Cheyenne shaman who had been flown in for the service.
    The chanting seemed to go on forever, just as the rain did.
    Titus had opted to be cremated, and after the funeral services, he had requested that his ashes be scattered to the winds.
    Plenty of that today, Stacey thought. A little too much, actually.
    As the shaman continued, Stacey leaned in toward Ian. The lawyer had taken the position beside her just before the ceremony had begun.
    â€œMaybe we should wait with the scattering,” she suggested. When he made no comment, she added, “It’s raining,” feeling foolish even as she said the words. Any idiot could see that it was raining. Her point was that the rain would hinder the scattering of the ashes.
    After a beat, his eyes focused on the ancient, white-suede-clad shaman, Ian shook his head. “This was your uncle’s favorite kind of weather.”
    Was it her imagination, or did a fond note enter the man’s voice? She liked the thought of Titus not being alone, of having a friend to share things with while he lived here. Someone who wasn’t just traveling through the old man’s life.
    She nodded in response. It wasn’t her place to go against her uncle’s wishes, and Ian would have known him better than she did. The man had always gotten his way when he was alive. Death shouldn’t change anything.
    Stacey felt a pang that she hadn’t made more of an effort to keep in touch. Now it was too late. Would her children have these very same thoughts