Then suddenly remembered a thin man with a polished walking stick who visited Nathaniel's office every Thursday afternoon.
Arthur Voss.
A lawyer.
A man with pale eyes and a permanent expression of mild irritation.
Clara's pulse quickened.
"Arthur Voss."
Elias looked up sharply.
"You know him?"
"He's Nathaniel's attorney."
Elias went still.
Clara looked at him.
"What?"
He slowly reached for a folded paper in the ledger.
"Jonah mentioned him."
He opened the letter.
Near the bottom was a list of payments.
One name appeared beside a sum of three hundred dollars.
Arthur Voss.
Clara whispered, "He's involved."
Elias nodded.
"And Jonah knew."
She turned another page.
"Then perhaps we can discover how deeply."
They worked until the fire burned low.
And as the hours passed, something unfamiliar grew between them.
Trust.
Not the careless trust Clara had once placed in Nathaniel simply because he wore expensive suits and spoke with confidence.
Something slower.
Earned through patience.
Through listening.
Through the discovery that each possessed knowledge the other lacked.
Elias knew the mountains.
Clara knew the books.
He could recognize a dangerous trail beneath fresh snow.
She could recognize a fraudulent transaction beneath a perfectly respectable column of figures.
They were different in almost every way.
And unexpectedly, they worked well together.
On the seventh evening, Clara discovered that Elias owned a violin.
It lay inside a wooden case beneath his bed.
She found it while searching for extra blankets.
When she lifted the case, Elias looked up sharply.
"Leave that."
Clara stopped.
"I'm sorry."
He rose.
For a moment, she feared she had crossed some invisible boundary.
Then she saw his expression.
Not anger.
Pain.
She carefully set the case down.
"Whose was it?"
Elias looked at the instrument.
Then answered quietly.
"My brother's."
Clara's heart softened.
"Jonah played?"
He nodded.
"Beautifully."
She looked toward the case.
"Did you?"
Elias gave a faint smile.
"Badly."
Clara smiled.
"Would you show me?"
He hesitated.
"It's been years."
"Then perhaps it's time."
He studied her.
For a long moment, she thought he would refuse.
Then he opened the case.
The violin was old but carefully maintained.
He lifted it gently.
Ran his fingers along the polished wood.
And for a moment, Clara saw the younger brother he had lost reflected in his eyes.
Elias positioned the instrument beneath his chin.
Drew the bow across the strings.
The first note was rough.
He winced.
Clara smiled.
"Try again."
He adjusted the bow.