He stared at her admiringly. “You’re very clever, Ms. Darnell.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard that.”
“And charming,” he added for good measure.
She smiled at him, then glanced away. She looked down the boardwalk, then across the street toward the town, then up at the sky before she sighed. She wasn’t going to respond to his flattery, she decided. Nonetheless, she felt herself blushing.
As if reading her mind, Jeremy changed the subject. “So this weekend,” he started. “What’s it like?”
“Won’t you be here?” she asked.
“Probably. For part of it, anyway. But I was just curious how you felt about it.”
“Aside from making a lot of people’s lives crazy for a few days?” she asked. “It’s . . . needed at this time of year. You go through Thanksgiving and Christmas in a rush, and then nothing is on the schedule until spring. And meanwhile, it’s cold and gray and rainy . . . so years ago, the town council decided to do the Historic Homes Tour. And ever since then, they’ve just added more festivities to it in the hope of making for a special weekend. This year it’s the cemetery, last year the parade, the year before that, they added a Friday night barn dance. Now it’s becoming part of the tradition of the town, so most of the folks who live here look forward to it.” She glanced at him. “As small-town forgettable as it sounds, it’s actually sort of fun.”
Watching her, Jeremy raised his eyebrows, remembering the barn dance from the brochure. “They have a dance?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
She nodded. “On Friday night. In Meyer’s tobacco barn downtown. It’s quite the shindig, with a live band and everything. It’s the only night of the year that the Lookilu Tavern is pretty much empty.”
“Well, if I happen to go, maybe you’ll dance with me.”
She smiled before finally eyeing him with an almost seductive look. “I’ll tell you what. If you solve the mystery by then, I’ll dance with you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she said. “But our deal is that you have to solve the mystery first.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I can’t wait. And when it comes to the Lindy or the fox-trot . . .” He shook his head, drawing a long breath. “Well, all I can say is that I hope you can keep up.”
She laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
Crossing her arms, Lexie watched the sun trying and failing to break through the gloom. “Tonight,” she said.
He frowned. “Tonight?”
“You’ll see the lights tonight. If you go to the cemetery.”
“How do you know?”
“The fog is coming in.”
He followed her gaze. “How can you tell? It doesn’t seem any different to me.”
“Look across the river behind me,” she said. “The tops of the smokestacks on the paper mill are already hidden by clouds.”
“Yeah, sure . . . ,” he said, trailing off.
“Turn around and look. You’ll see.”
He looked over his shoulder and back, then looked once more, studying the outlines of the paper mill. “You’re right,” he said.
“Of course, I am.”
“I guess you peeked when I wasn’t looking, huh?”
“No,” she said. “I just knew.”
“Ah,” he said. “One of those pesky mysteries again?”
She pushed herself from the railing. “If that’s what you want to call it,” she said. “But c’mon. It’s getting a little late, and I have to get back to the library. I have to read to the children in fifteen minutes.”
As they made their way back to the car, Jeremy noticed that the top of Riker’s Hill had become hidden as well. He smiled, thinking, So that’s how she did it. See it over there, figure it must be happening across the river, too. Tricky.
“Well, tell me,” he said, doing his best to hide his smirk, “since you seem to have hidden talents, how can you be so sure the lights will be out tonight?”
It took a moment for her to answer.
“I just am,” she said.
“Well, I guess it’s settled, then. I should probably head out there, shouldn’t I?” As soon as he spoke the words, he remembered the dinner he was supposed to attend and he suddenly winced.
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Oh, the mayor is setting up a dinner with a few people he thought I should meet,” he said. “A little get-together or something.”
“For you?”
He smiled. “What? You’re impressed by that?”
“No, just surprised.”
“Why?”
“Because I hadn’t heard about it.”
“I only found out this morning.”
“Still, it’s surprising. But I wouldn’t worry about not seeing the lights, even if you do go to dinner with the mayor. The lights don’t usually come out until late, anyway. You’ll have plenty of time.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s when I saw them. It was a little before midnight.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Wait—you’ve seen them? You didn’t mention that.”
She smiled. “You didn’t ask.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Well, Mr. Journalist, that’s only because you keep forgetting to ask.”
Eight
Across town at Herbs, Deputy Rodney Hopper was stewing over his cup of coffee, wondering where on earth Lexie and that . . . city boy had gone off to.
He’d wanted to surprise Lexie at the library and take her out to lunch so City Boy would know exactly where things stood. Maybe she would have even let him escort her to the car while City Boy watched with envy.
Oh, he knew exactly what City Boy saw in Lexie. And he had to be seeing it. Hell, it was impossible not to notice, Rodney thought. She was the prettiest woman in the county, probably the state. Maybe even the whole wide world, for that matter.
Usually, he wouldn’t have worried about any guy doing research at the library, and he wasn’t worried when he first heard about it. But then he started hearing all those folks whispering about the new stranger in town, so he’d wanted to check it out. And they were right: all it took was one look at City Boy to figure out that he had that city look about him. People who researched at the library were supposed to be older and look like absentminded professors, complete with reading glasses, poor posture, and coffee breath. But not this guy; no, this guy looked like he’d just strolled out of Della’s Beauty Parlor. But even that wouldn’t have bothered him so much except for the fact that right now they were off gallivanting around town, just the two of them.
Rodney scowled. Just where were they, anyway?
Not at Herbs. And not at Pike’s Diner, either. No, he’d scanned their parking lots and come up empty. He supposed he could have gone in and asked around, but word would probably have spread, and he wasn’t sure that would have been such a good idea. All his buddies teased him about Lexie as it was, especially whenever he mentioned that they were going out on a date again. They’d tell him to get over her, that she was just spending time with him to be nice, but he knew better. She always said yes when he asked, didn’t she? He thought about it. Well, most of the time, anyway. She never kissed him afterward, but that was beside the point. He was patient and the time was coming. Every time they went out, they edged a little closer to something more serious. He knew it. He could feel it. His buddies, he knew, were just jealous.
He’d hoped that Doris would have some insight, but it just so happened that she wasn’t around, either. Off at the accountant’s, they said, but she’d be back in a little while. Which, of course, didn’t help him at all, since his lunch break was almost over, and he couldn’t exactly wait around for her. And besides, she’d probably deny knowing anything about it. He’d heard she actually liked City Boy, and well . . . wasn’t that special?
“Scuse me, darlin’?” Rachel said. “You okay?”
Rodney looked up and saw her standing at the table with the coffeepot.
“Nothing, Rachel,” he said. “Just one of those days.”
“Bad guys getting you down again?”
Rodney nodded. “You could say that.”
She smiled, looking pretty, though Rodney didn’t seem to notice. He’d long since come to view her as something of a sister.
“Well, it’ll get better,” she reassured him.
He nodded. “You’re probably right.”
Her lips went together. Sometimes she worried about Rodney.
“Are you sure you can’t squeeze in a quick bite to eat? I know you’re in a hurry and I can tell ’em to make it quick.”
“No. I’m not all that hungry. And I’ve got some protein powder in the car for later. I’ll be fine.” He extended his cup. “A refill might be nice, though.”
“You got it,” she said, pouring.
“Hey, would you happen to have noticed whether Lexie came through here? Maybe for a to-go order?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her all day. Have you checked at the library? I can call over there if it’s important.”
“No, it’s not that important.”
She hovered over the table, as if debating what to say next. “I saw you sitting with Jeremy Marsh this morning.”
“Who?” Rodney asked, trying to appear innocent.
“The journalist from New York. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I just thought I should introduce myself.”
“He’s a handsome fella, isn’t he?”
“I don’t notice whether other men are handsome,” he growled.
“Well, he is. I could look at him all day. I mean, that hair. Just makes me want to run my fingers through it. Everyone’s talking about him.”
“Great,” Rodney mumbled, feeling worse.
“He invited me to New York,” she boasted.
At this, Rodney perked up, wondering if he’d heard her right. “He did?”
“Well, sort of, anyway. He said I should visit, and even though he didn’t put it in so many words, I think he kind of wanted me to visit him.”
“Really?” he asked. “That’s great, Rachel.”
“What did you think of him?”
Rodney shifted in his seat. “We didn’t really talk that much.”
“Oh, you should. He’s really interesting and very smart. And that hair. Did I mention his hair?”
“Yes,” Rodney said. He took another gulp of his coffee, trying to stall until he figured things out. Did he really invite Rachel to New York? Or did Rachel invite herself? He wasn’t quite sure. He could see how City Boy might find her attractive, and he was definitely the type who’d make his move on a woman, but . . . but . . . Rachel tended to exaggerate and Lexie and City Boy were out and about and nowhere to be found. Something here didn’t quite add up, did it?
He began sliding from the booth. “Well, listen, if you see Lexie, tell her I stopped by, okay?”
“Sure thing. You want me to put your coffee in a Styrofoam cup to go?”
“No, thanks. My stomach’s feeling a little green already.”
“Oh, you poor thing. I think we have some Pepto-Bismol in the back. Do you want me to get some for you?”
“To be honest, Rach,” he said, puffing his chest out and trying to look official again, “I don’t think it’s going to help.”
Across town, just outside the accountant’s office, Mayor Gherkin hustled to catch up to Doris.
“Just the woman I wanted to see,” he called out.
Doris turned to watch the mayor approach; in his red jacket and checkered pants, she couldn’t help but wonder whether the man was color-blind. More often than not, he looked ridiculous.
“What can I do for you, Tom?”
“Well, as you may or may not have heard, we’re arranging a special evening for our guest, Jeremy Marsh,” he said. “He’s writing a big story, you know, and . . .”
Doris mentally finished the story, mouthing the words along with him.
“. . . you know how important this could be for the town.”
“I’ve heard,” she said. “And it’s especially good for your businesses.”
“I’m thinking of the whole community here,” he said, ignoring her comment. “I’ve spent all morning trying to set things up so it’ll be just right. But I was hoping you’d be willing to help us out with something to eat.”
“You want me to be the caterer?”
“Not for charity, mind you. The town would be happy to reimburse you for expenses. We’re planning to hold it at the old Lawson Plantation just outside town. I’ve already talked to the folks there, and they said that they’d be happy to let us use the premises. I figure we’d have a little get-together, and we could sort of use it as a kickoff to the Historic Homes Tour. I’ve already talked to the newspaper, and a reporter plans to swing by—”
“When are you planning to have this little get-together?” she asked, cutting him off.
He looked momentarily baffled by the interruption. “Well, tonight, of course . . . but like I was saying—”
“Tonight?” she interrupted again. “You want me to prepare for one of your little get-togethers tonight?”
“It’s for a good cause, Doris. I know it’s inconsiderate of me to drop this on you like this, but big things might be happening, and we have to move fast to take advantage of it. You and I both know you’re the only one who could handle something like this. Nothing fancy, of course. I was thinking that maybe you could do your special chicken pesto but without the sandwiches . . .”