Free The Legacy by Shirley Jump

handling this so well, Paul thought, even though he knew she must be used to this sort of thing. She was efficient, yet calm, going about her list of things to do quickly and easily.
    In a few minutes, the calls had been made and the house was soon swarming with people and light. Itwasn’t until the coroner finally wheeled out Hugh’s body that Marjo sank into a chair.
    “You all right, Marjo?” A police officer came over to her. He was tall, about the same height as Paul, but the man had none of the stiffness about him of a regular police officer. Paul suspected the law operated with the same easy approach as the rest of Indigo.
    “Yeah.” She sighed. “I’m going to miss him.”
    “We all are. When you think of Indigo, Hugh’s one of the first people that comes to mind.”
    She nodded. “He was a real champion for the historical society and the restoration committee. For all of Indigo, really.” Then she seemed to recover, and glanced over at Paul. “Alain Boudreaux, this is Paul Clermont. He’s a Valois descendent from Cape Breton. Alain is the police chief here.”
    Alain extended his hand and shook with Paul, a firm, honest grip. “Nice to meet you. Can’t remember the last time we’ve had one of the Valois family members down here.”
    “I’m just here for a few days. Taking care of some business.”
    Marjo let out a cough.
    “You know, I think I’m one of your distant relatives. Real distant, considering I’m from Alexandre’s side of the family, about twenty-five times removed. My grandmother and mother are both Valois. Sometime, I’ll have to introduce you.”
    Paul nodded, though he had no intention of being here long enough for a family reunion. “That’d be nice.”
    “If you’re from Nova Scotia and a Valois, you must play the fiddle,” Alain joked.
    “I used to.” He thought of those parties with his uncles. Fiddle dueling had been as common as the tall tales shared around the table. “It’s been years since I picked one up, though.”
    A deputy came up and whispered something in Alain’s ear. He nodded. “Well, if you’re ever at Skeeter’s, bring your fiddle, or you can borrow one of mine. The Indigo Boneshakers play there on Friday nights. Every once in a while, a local will fill in between sets. After a couple of beers, everyone sounds good.” The two men chuckled. “Either way, I’d love to hear how they do it in Canada.”
    Paul didn’t tell Alain that he fully intended to be back on the road in forty-eight hours at most. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Alain said his goodbyes, then headed out to his car. Marjo said she’d take care of anything that needed to be locked up in Hugh’s house.
    She headed into the kitchen and turned on the hot water. “What are you doing?” Paul asked.
    “The dishes. I…” She let out a long, tired breath. “I don’t know what else to do.”
    He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, the gesture meant to be friendly, yet he could feel that sense of connection all the same. “Then let me help.”
    She gave him a smile, the kind that tattoed itself on his memory because hell, if she smiled like that again, he’d gladly throw in a few loads of wash and break out the vacuum cleaner. He stood beside her as she washed and he dried, returning the dishes to the cabinet. As the bubbles multiplied and the pile of dirty dishes dwindled, something odd happened between them.
    A truce of sorts began to form.
    No, it was more than that. It was a moment that forged the beginnings of a bond. They’d just dealt with a difficult situation together.
    “You said you and Hugh researched the town’s history together. How did you get so interested in that?” Paul approached her with the same curiosity that had inspired many of the photo narratives he’d put together for World.
    “He used to be my babysitter.”
    “Your babysitter?”
    She laughed. “When I was a kid, my dad became friends with Hugh. They were in the same men’s coffee club