He shrugged. “So what are you gonna do?”

I grabbed the shovel Bruce Wayne had brought for me, wanting to take my frustration out on the roots of the shrub. “I don’t know yet, but I need to come up with something fast. Ideally, I’d like to get my money back, but that seems unlikely. Unless…”

Bruce Wayne jerked his gaze up in surprise. “I don’t like the look on your face, Miss Rose.”

“If we can find out who robbed the bank, I might be able to get the money back.”

“We?” he asked, grumbling. “You got a mouse in your pocket?”

“Very funny.” I headed for the shrub next to the one Bruce Wayne was strong-arming and slammed the shovel into the ground with my foot. “You and I both know you still have some connections to shady characters in Fenton County.”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I ain’t gettin’ involved. Half of Crocker’s boys—the ones that are still hanging around—have it out for me.”

“What about Scooter and Skeeter Malcolm?”

Bruce Wayne pressed his lips together.

“Can’t you just ask around? See if anyone knows anything?”

He scowled. “I’ll think about it, okay? No more pressuring.”

I flashed him a grin. “Fair enough.”

“How’d Violet overextend herself, if you don’t mind me bein’ nosy?”

“She’s spread us out too thin by trying to grow the business too big, too fast, not leaving us with enough financial wiggle room in case something bad happened.”

“Like gettin’ your money stolen in a bank robbery.”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“Sounds like my dad,” he muttered.

It was my turn to jerk up in surprise. While I hadn’t actually met Bruce Wayne’s parents, I’d seen them in the courtroom during his trial. They’d seemed like nice enough people, although boring as milk toast. I still had a hard time accepting that they’d washed their hands of him. “Your father seems way too conservative for that.”

He shook his head. “Russell isn’t my birth father. I was just two when Momma married him, so she gave me his last name. My dad is at the Tucker Unit with the Arkansas Department of Corrections.”

“Oh.” That explained so much.

“Yeah.” Bruce Wayne pried up part of the shrub with his shovel. “My dad had too many pies and not enough fingers.” He looked up at the roof. “Or was it too many fingers and not enough pies?”

I shrugged.

“In any case, this reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad was actually out of prison for a little while. In the weeks before he was arrested again—the one that put him away for good—he was juggling too many things and it caught up with him. He didn’t have a backup plan. Yeah, that’s it. Juggling, not pies.” He paused. “Anyways, it sounds a bit like Miss Violet. No offense intended, of course.”

“None taken.” And besides, he had a point.

He looked me in the eye. “If you decide to start diggin’ into this, be careful. You know you have a penchant for pissing off shady characters.”

I nodded, since there was no use denying the truth.

We worked in silence for several minutes before Bruce Wayne cleared his throat. “My father used to lord it over me that my real dad was a good-for-nothing piece of white trash.”

I waited for him to say something more. He rarely shared information about his personal life, let alone his past. I felt honored that he was comfortable enough with me to do so, but I also knew he wasn’t a man to be rushed. Information came out in its own sweet time with Bruce Wayne.

“When I first got in trouble, he declared that the apple don’t fall far from the tree.” He jammed the shovel into the dirt with more force than he usually used. “He used a belt to drive home his point.”

I kept shoveling and when he didn’t say anything for nearly a minute, I decided it was safe to talk. Since he was giving me the gift of sharing his past, I felt safe sharing my own story with someone who would understand. “My momma wasn’t my birth mother. Only I didn’t find out until after she died. My daddy had left my momma with the intention of marrying a woman named Dora. That’s my birth mother. She was pregnant with me when he walked out on my momma.” I swallowed, trying to wet my dry mouth. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was about telling him my story. “My momma hated me. After I found out about Dora, I found a photo of her holding me when I was a baby. Turns out that I kind of look like her, so I’m sure Momma didn’t care for the reminder. My daddy only came back to her after Dora died, and he brought me with him. He did it for Violet. So I understand what it’s like for a parent to hate you for no good reason other than who provided part of your DNA.” I stopped and waited for Bruce Wayne to look up at me. “I understand.”

He nodded and pressed his lips together. “I can see that you do.”

We worked in silence for a bit longer, but I kept thinking about everything Bruce Wayne had told me. His family had deserted him shortly before his murder arrest, which they’d used as an excuse to completely seal the door on their relationship. The only person he had left was his best friend David. At least I still had Violet, even if she wasn’t perfect. “Bruce Wayne, what are you doin’ for Thanksgiving?”

“Uh…nothing. Probably going to Denny’s in Magnolia with David.”