“Hey Roar, Charles Sarazen sold the family compound,” Cade announced.
She looked up from her laptop and pulled her ear buds out. “What?”
“I’ll read it to you. It’s in the Transactions section of the Post. ‘Recent property sales in the Susquehanna area: On September first, Charles Sarazen sold property at 1126 Firskit Lane to Jersey Investments for $375,000.’ Over a quarter million for some dirt. Imagine that.”
“Some dirt? Not quite. It’s a huge piece of land. If I remember right, it was close to a hundred acres, and there was a house on it, not to mention an Olympic-size swimming pool, tennis courts, and a stable.”
“You’ve been there?”
“My parents owned a summer house up there, just a few miles down the road. They used to socialize with the Sarazens before my dad and brother died.”
“Why do you think he sold it?”
“The same reason my mother sold ours, I suppose. It was too much upkeep and used too rarely. I don’t think anyone has been there at all since Mrs. Sarazen passed away last year.” Rory shrugged and returned to her article, putting her ear buds back in as a way to tell Cade that she was busy.
“They never found his daughter, did they?”
Rory pretended she didn’t hear him.