"What's he been up to?" he asked. He didn't really care. He was simply filling time until the attorney got the show on the road.

"He didn't volunteer any personal news."

"Is he still body building?"

"I didn't ask. I would assume so."

"Speak of the devil."

The brothers turned in unison as Ewan walked in. Bryce greeted him by raising his glass.

Roger thought Ewan looked more fit than ever. He sported a deep tan that came from his sun worshipping hours at the club. From the waist down, he was trim, but his chest and upper arms were huge. He was still lifting weights all right.

The youngest wasn't dressed appropriately, though. He wore khaki pants that appeared to have been purchased at one of those mall chains and a short-sleeve knit shirt that looked like it had been glued to his chest. Ewan had never wanted to grow up. He obviously had loved his college days so much, he continued to dress like a frat boy.

Roger wondered if he still played Jell-O shot games with his ju-venile buddies but didn't ask. The least little thing set Ewan off, and Roger wasn't in the mood to put up with his temper today.

Ewan managed to be civil for about thirty seconds. "Nice to see both of you again." And before Bryce or Roger had a chance to respond, Ewan wrinkled his nose and said, "Which one of you stinks?"

"That would be Roger," Bryce said.

Before Roger could protest, Bryce continued, "It's the nicotine oozing through your pores and the smoke all over your clothes. You really ought to give up that filthy habit."

And the gloves came off.

Vanessa walked into the middle of the fray. Dressed in a pale gray silk pantsuit, she was a statuesque woman who was accustomed to turning heads when she entered a room. She wore her raven black hair swept back into a chignon, as only a woman confident in her beauty could. "Isn't this a lovely family reunion," she said sarcastically. She quickly separated herself from the brothers, looked at her watch, and said, "We're all here. Where's the attorney?"

Bryce checked the time and said, "We've got ten more minutes until one."

She tried to open the door to the inner office. It was locked.

"Apparently he doesn't want us rifling through his files," she said.

"We shouldn't have to wait. This is outrageous," Roger muttered. "This outfit isn't going to be handling my share of the money, I promise you that."

"How much do you think there is?" Bryce asked.

"Millions," Roger answered.

"That doesn't answer the question. How many millions?" Ewan wanted to know.

"I'm guessing sixty million," Bryce said.

"That's a high estimate," Ewan said.

"Guessing is rather pointless," Vanessa interjected.

Ewan glared at her. "Why are you here?"

"You two have never gotten along, have you?" Roger said. He sounded like he'd just figured that out.

"That's soft-pedaling the truth," Ewan responded. "I detest her. Her holier-than-thou attitude. She's a snob, and I have no use for her."

"The feeling's mutual," she responded.

"I repeat, why are you here?" Ewan asked again.

"Bryce and I both received letters."

"And you couldn't ride with your husband?" he asked.

"I had a meeting with the art council. It was cultural, so of course you wouldn't understand."

Her condescension infuriated him. He turned to Bryce and said, "How in God's name do you stand her?"

Bryce smiled at his wife. "The question should be, how does she stand me?"

"Oh, please. Your self-loathing became tiresome years ago," Ewan scoffed.

Vanessa was saved from having to listen to any more of Ewan's sarcastic drivel when the door swung open and Anderson Smith, trailed by his assistant, swept into the room.

The attorney's manner was as smooth as alabaster. Without saying a word, he demanded attention, and he got it. He introduced himself and Terrance and shook hands with each one, starting with Vanessa.

He was an older gentleman and quite charismatic. She watched him work his magic on the brothers and was both fascinated and amused, for they were suddenly all on their best behavior.

Terrance unlocked the door, and one by one they filed into the inner sanctum.

Roger spotted the video equipment and asked, "What's all this for? Are we going to see a movie?"

"I wouldn't call it a movie," Anderson responded. "Please make yourselves comfortable. We'll begin in just a few minutes."

"Why can't we start now?" Ewan asked.

Anderson walked to the office door and was pulling it closed when he answered, "Not everyone is here yet."

Dylan made certain they weren't being followed, and when they were closing in on Savannah, he left the highway and took less-traveled roads into the city.

He got lost in no time at all, but because he was a Buchanan male, he wasn't about to admit it or ask for directions. Kate was filling him in on some historical facts about Charleston's sister city and wasn't paying attention to the route he was taking.

"Savannah's called the jewel of the south," she said. "But you probably already knew that."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sure I am. You're a jewel."

"No, Savannah's the jewel."

"Yes," he agreed. "But so are you, Pickle."

She gave up trying to educate him, picked up her BlackBerry, and checked for any new messages.

Dylan still hadn't gotten his bearings. He was certain he'd passed the very same park a couple of times now. He kept driving west. Several blocks later he stopped to let some jaywalkers cross in front of him and happened to look at the number on the door across the street.

Son of a gun, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

The attorney's office was on the perimeter of a large square that surrounded a shaded park. In the center was a monument to one of the South's revered statesmen, who stood perched on a tall pedestal looking down on the sidewalks and park benches scattered about. Ancient oaks dripping with moss provided shade.

All of the buildings butted up against one another and were once the grand homes of Savannah's finest citizens. Some were still residences, but others had been renovated and converted and now fit into the urban mixture of offices and galleries and restaurants.

Dylan got lucky again when a car pulled out of a prime parking spot near the corner. He backed into the space, put the car in park, and said, "All right."

"We're here?" She looked startled.

"Yes, we're here," he said. "We made good time."

She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. "We're twenty minutes early."

"It's closer to fifteen minutes." He unsnapped his seat belt and tried to open the door.

She grabbed his arm. "I don't want to get there early." She sounded apprehensive now.

"Sure, okay. We won't be early." He reached for the door again.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Would you mind if I made a quick call first? I need to talk to Haley about ribbon. It won't take long."

"No problem. While you're doing that, I'll check in with Nate."

Kate was suddenly feeling nervous. She couldn't remember Haley's phone number and had to look it up on her BlackBerry.

Haley's assistant answered and explained that she had left for a luncheon appointment. Kate left the message that she would be unavailable for a few hours but that she would call Haley later that afternoon.

Dylan got hold of Nate right away. It was a one-sided conversation, and Kate had to wait until he'd flipped his cell phone closed to find out anything.

"Did he have any news?" she asked.

"Some." He didn't expound.

Dylan got out of the car, grabbed his suit jacket from the backseat, and put it on so his gun would be concealed, then he went around the car and opened her door.