She thought about that as she fitted the key into the lock of his apartment. He hadn’t moved in here until a few months after she’d bought her house. He’d lived in a bigger place up on the hill. Bigger, blander¸ cheaper. This place had more character, she’d always thought, but the places here in town cost more. She’d used the money she’d gotten from her mother’s small life insurance policy to buy her place. It had been sitting in a fund for years. Her father had finally taken the steps to have her declared legally dead, a fact that had cut a deep, deep hole inside her. It had done the same to Tate and Jensen, although she understood why he’d done it. They needed the closure, and he wanted them to have that final … gift. That was what he’d called it. They’d each taken out a life insurance policy so the kids would have something if their parents were taken. A final gift. Tate had used his to pursue his art career.
