“I don’t do flat rates.”

“Quinn,” the Englishman said quickly, “please, just hear me out first. Given your scheduling conflicts, I anticipate only needing your services on three separate operations. Four, tops. Time-wise, we’re talking no more than three weeks. What I’m proposing is a flat rate of one hundred and ninety thousand.”

Quinn paused. He didn’t like making exceptions to his rules, but given what he was dealing with at the moment, getting back to work would be a nice diversion.

“Make it two-ten and we have a deal.”

“Can I count on you being available to start by October first?”

That was a little over a week away. “Depending on where you need me, I should be able to do that.”

“Your first assignment will be in the States.”

“I’d say that’s doable.”

“Great,” Wills said. “Then we have a deal.”

As Quinn neared the podium he almost wished he’d told Wills he would fly out that night. It would have meant he and Orlando would’ve already been on the road to Minneapolis, a six-hour drive away. He could have avoided the whole ceremony. But the reality was he could never have done that.

He caught sight of his sister, Liz, sitting next to their mom. Predictably, she didn’t return his gaze.

When he and Orlando had arrived a couple of days before, he had thought that maybe their father’s death would spark a reconciliation between Liz and himself. Maybe not full on at first, but at least start things moving in the right direction.

But because of her school schedule in Paris and the long transatlantic flight, Liz hadn’t arrived in Warroad until right before the service. Quinn had been in the lobby greeting mourners when she came rushing in, still wearing jeans and a sweater.

“Liz,” he said, surprised.

“I’m not too late, am I?” She seemed to be all motion: fidgeting with the shoulder strap of her bag, one foot tapping, and her head swiveling side to side as she took in everything in the lobby except her brother.