by Sarah Fox
“And he wants you to go with him.”
“He does.”
“And now that you’ve had some time to think about it?” I asked. “Have you made a decision?”
“No.” Aunt Gilda folded her hands in her lap, twisting the ruby ring she wore on her right hand. “I can’t leave Louie hanging much longer, but I need to be completely at peace with my decision, and I’m not there yet.”
My heart ached for her. “If you need someone to talk to about it, you know where to find me.”
She gave me a grateful smile. “I do. Thank you, honey.”
I knew she had a client arriving any minute, so I got to my feet. She followed suit and pulled me into a hug.
“I want you to know that I’m not eager to move away from you. It’s been such a treat having you so close again.”
I returned her hug. “I don’t want you to move away, but I do want you to be happy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She kissed my cheek and then we headed downstairs so she could get back to work.
I didn’t hang around the salon any longer. I had such a muddle of emotions swirling around inside of me. I truly did want Aunt Gilda to do whatever would make her the happiest, but I would miss her so much if she left. And it still irked me that Vera had taken such pleasure in blindsiding me with the news, even if it hadn’t been completely accurate.
Unsure of what to do next, I plunked myself down on a bench on the village green. It was a gorgeous spring day, with plenty of sunshine and singing birds. The beauty that surrounded me helped to perk up my mood, although I still wouldn’t have described myself as cheerful. I decided to try my best not to worry about Aunt Gilda leaving Shady Creek, especially since I didn’t know if it would really happen.
Instead, I focused my thoughts on Marcie’s murder. That didn’t get me anywhere, though. I still had all the same questions and no answers to match. I used my phone to do a quick search for information about Marcie online, but I didn’t find much beyond a few social media profiles, and those didn’t give me any insight into her past, beyond where she’d attended school. I needed to talk to Eleanor. That wasn’t a task I relished, but I didn’t see how else to find out what she knew about Marcie’s past.
Thoughts of Eleanor rushed out of my head when I noticed Grayson crossing the street toward me. Judging by the two takeout cups in his hand, I figured he’d just been to the Village Bean. I sat up straighter when I realized he was headed my way.
When he reached the bench, he offered me one of the cups. “Can I tempt you?”
“Always,” I said, accepting the cup.
My cheeks seemed to realize what I’d said before the rest of me did. They were already warm when I gave myself a mental kick.
“Why do I always do that?” I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but that was the way my day was going. I let out a deep sigh. “I’m forever embarrassing myself.” At the last moment, I stopped myself from adding, “in front of you.”
Grayson chuckled and the warm sound tickled over my skin and eased my humiliation.
“Relax,” he said. “You really don’t need to be embarrassed.” When I glanced his way I knew I wasn’t imagining the heat in his gaze, but there was something else there too. Affection?
I took a gulp of my drink to cover up the fact that I was flustered anew. My eyes widened with surprise. I’d expected coffee, maybe with some cream or sugar in it, but instead there was a delicious explosion of mocha on my tongue.
“How did you know this is my favorite?” I asked with surprise.
Grayson grinned. “I have my sources.”
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d fed me that vague response.
“You asked Nettie Jo, didn’t you?” I guessed.
“You’ve got me all figured out.”
“No,” I countered. “Not yet.”
When our eyes locked I had to clear my throat and look away. The strength of the attraction I was feeling between us was overwhelming and even a tad scary. After dealing with lies and betrayal from my ex-boyfriend, I’d told myself I wanted a good long break from dating. Grayson was making me have second thoughts about that plan. At the same time, my past experiences shouted at me to go slow.
My head was listening. My heart, not so much.
I took a long drink of my mocha latte.
“What had you looking so pensive when I first got here?” Grayson asked after taking a sip of his own coffee.
“Partly Marcie’s murder.”
“You haven’t cracked the case yet?”
“I wish,” I said.
“And the other part?”
I sighed. “Have you heard that Louie Edmonds asked Aunt Gilda to marry him?”
“No.”
“Then you’re probably the last person in Shady Creek to hear about it. And I was the second last. Well, I guess I tied with Shontelle.”
“Gilda didn’t tell you?” He sounded surprised.
“She was planning to.”
Over the next couple of minutes, I spilled the entire story to him, right down to Vera Anderson dropping the bombshell on me and my selfish worry that Aunt Gilda would move away.
When I finished, I closed my eyes and tightened my grip on my takeout cup. “Sorry. You were probably looking for the CliffsNotes version, not the whole drama line by line.”
“I don’t want to be a CliffsNotes kind of guy when it comes to you, Sadie.”
It took me a full three seconds to process his words. Then, when I looked into his blue eyes, I forgot what he’d said, but not what he’d meant. I could feel my heart beating right out to my fingertips. He rested a hand on my knee, the heat from his palm warming my skin through my jeans. Without thinking about it, I put a hand to his jaw, a day’s worth of stubble rasping against my fingertips. He leaned closer and my heartbeat sped up while time seemed to slow around us. His lips brushed mine and my eyes closed.
A shriek cut through the air. My eyes flew open as I nearly jumped out of my skin.
A little girl dressed in bright pink from head to toe ran past our bench, letting out another ear-piercing squeal of happiness.
“Lily, come back here!” a woman shouted as she chased after the child.
With our moment shattered, I was suddenly all too aware of how close Grayson and I were and how visible we were to everyone and anyone who might look out over the village green. Not sure what to do now that awkwardness was spreading through me, I jumped up from the bench and checked my phone.
“Good Gandalf!” I couldn’t believe how much time had passed since my chat with Aunt Gilda. “I’m supposed to open the Inkwell in five minutes.”
I shoved my phone back into my purse and hooked the strap up over my shoulder. Grayson got up from the bench and stood facing me, close enough that my heart decided to go into overdrive again.
“Sadie . . .”
“I’d better go,” I said in a rush. “Thanks for the latte!”
Like a terrified mouse, I scurried off across the green, over the footbridge, and into the Inkwell. As soon as I stopped to catch my breath, I regretted my actions. I shouldn’t have run off like a coward. It was silly of me, and unfair to Grayson. I’d probably sent him completely the wrong message.
I dropped my purse on the nearest table and hurried back outside to look out over the green. Grayson was no longer in sight and three potential customers were on their way across the footbridge, coming my way.
With disappointment slowing my racing heartbeat, I flipped the sign on the Inkwell’s front door and greeted my customers with a smile.
* * *
It wasn’t until I’d been serving drinks and food for over an hour that I realized Grayson and I had never talked about the sabotage. If I hadn’t hightailed it away from him, maybe we would have arranged another time to do so, but because of my cowardice I’d left us both hanging.
Maybe he’d still come by to talk about it this afternoon, as we’d originally planned, but I wasn’t goin
g to hold my breath. If he thought I hadn’t enjoyed our kiss—or was it an almost-kiss? —would he ever want to see me again?
“Everything all right, Sadie?” Mel’s voice startled me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, fine,” I assured her.
She cast a dubious glance at the cocktail I was mixing. “Really? Because I think you just added four times the usual vodka to that Evil Stepmother.”
I glanced down at what I was doing and realized I hadn’t been paying any attention to how much of anything I was putting in the cocktail shaker.
“Shoot. You’re right.” I discarded the vodka-heavy drink and started fresh.
“What’s going on?” Mel asked as she filled a pint glass with beer.
Beer that was brewed by Grayson. The man whose lips had touched mine far too briefly.
I could feel my cheeks getting warm and I was tempted to take a big gulp of the cocktail I’d just finished mixing.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind right now,” I said.
That was an understatement. There was the murder, the vandalism, Aunt Gilda, Grayson . . .
“But I’m fine,” I added. “I’ll keep my mind on the job from now on.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d entirely convinced Mel, but she let the matter drop. I really needed to get it together, but my thoughts kept hopping around like a rabbit hyped up on espresso. Maybe I needed to talk things out with Shontelle. I realized I needed to get in touch with her anyway. There was a good chance that someone had seen me on the bench with Grayson, and if Shontelle didn’t hear about it from me before somebody else spilled the beans, she’d probably never forgive me.
As soon as I had a minute to spare, I sent her a quick text message, telling her we needed to talk ASAP. After that, I did my best to focus on my work. I was successful enough that I didn’t make any other errors.
By the time midafternoon rolled around, Shontelle still hadn’t replied to my text. Most likely she had her hands full at the Treasure Chest. We’d had a busy lunch rush at the pub, but now things had settled down. I knew business would pick up again later, but that didn’t help me right at the moment. Not having so much work to do had given my mind a chance to go back to overthinking Shady Creek’s two current mysteries and what had happened between me and Grayson. Mostly the latter.
“I’m going to pop out for a bit,” I told Mel, deciding I needed to take some action. “I’ll try not to be more than an hour, but text me if you need me back here sooner.”
“Take your time,” she said. “We’ve probably got a couple of hours before we get busy again.”
I was out the door a minute later, walking briskly as I cut across the green and made my way to the Shady Creek Museum. I’d never actually been inside the museum, but I thought I’d read somewhere that it was open for a few hours a day, several times a week. Eleanor had been at home earlier, but maybe by now she was at her beloved museum. That’s what I was hoping, anyway.
When I arrived at the brick building that housed the museum in one half and the seniors’ center in the other, I discovered that I was in luck. There was an OPEN sign on the door to the museum, so I went straight in.
I had to pause on the threshold while my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. It was a stark contrast to the bright sunshine outside. Slowly, a rack of brochures took shape to my left and a counter to my right. I’d barely had a chance to realize someone was standing behind the counter when Eleanor spoke to me.
“Can I help you?” Her chilly tone was far from welcoming.
After I blinked a couple of times, I could see her well enough to observe that her expression wasn’t any warmer than her words. She glared at me over the reading glasses perched on the end of her narrow nose, and her lips were pursed like she’d tasted something sour.
I smiled, hoping I could defrost her icy mood. “I was hoping to talk to you about Marcie Kent.”
She stared at me for two seconds before responding. “Why would you want to talk to me about her?”
Apparently my friendly smile hadn’t done the trick. She was as frosty as ever.
“Because you knew something about her, something about her past,” I said. “And now that she’s been murdered—”
“No!” The sharp word took me by surprise. “I’m not a suspect! Don’t you even imply that I am!” Eleanor rushed out from behind the counter and pushed me toward the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked, completely stunned.
She shoved open the door and propelled me out onto the sidewalk with a hard push.
I stumbled and nearly lost my balance. “What in the world of Oz is wrong with you?”
“I won’t have you tarnishing my reputation!” she fumed at me.
Before I had a chance to say anything more, she flipped the sign to CLOSED and slammed the door.
Clearly, I wouldn’t be getting any information out of Eleanor Grimes.
Chapter 13
Returning to the Inkwell brought me another disappointment. Business had picked up and I saw several friendly faces among the small crowd, but as soon as I got behind the bar, Mel informed me that Grayson had come by in my absence. I wanted to kick myself for missing him. I should have stayed at the pub. Either he was hoping to meet up about the sabotage, as we’d originally planned, or he wanted to talk about . . . us. Whichever it was, I’d missed out. I hoped he wasn’t annoyed with me.
I thought about texting him, but couldn’t quite work up the nerve. So far most of our phone calls and occasional text messages had been primarily business related. I could always keep the message simple, saying, “Sorry I missed you,” or something similar. I’d almost decided to go ahead and do that when a group of half a dozen tourists came into the pub, with a few locals on their heels. The influx of customers did away with any time I had for sending personal text messages and I happily got into the swing of mixing cocktails, pulling pints, and taking food orders.
It was well into the evening when I allowed myself to stop for a moment and think about anything other than work. Shontelle came into the Inkwell and made a beeline for me as soon as she spotted me over by the bar.
“Sorry I didn’t see your message for a few hours. The shop kept me busy all afternoon.”
“No worries,” I said. “Business has been brisk here for the past few hours too.”
“Does that mean you’re too busy to tell me why we need to talk? Is it about Gilda?”
“Only in part.” I glanced around the pub. “Hmmm.”
“You can’t keep me in suspense, Sadie. Five minutes?”
“We might need more than five,” I said.
“Okay, now you’re killing me.”
A bell dinged in the kitchen. Damien was busy taking care of a large drink order, so I knew I’d have to go fetch the meals Teagan had ready.
“Just give me a couple of minutes,” I told Shontelle. “Then we can pop upstairs for a bit. I need to feed Wimsey anyway.” I turned for the kitchen but then stopped. “Have you eaten? Can I get you anything?”
“I’d love a Red Cabbage of Courage.”
“Coming up,” I said as I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.
By the time I’d delivered the meals to hungry customers and had checked on a couple of other tables, Teagan had two salads ready and a side of fries for me and Shontelle to share. Damien didn’t mind holding down the fort on his own for a short while, so Shontelle and I hurried upstairs to my apartment to eat our dinner and have a chat.
“No more suspense,” Shontelle said as we set the food down on my kitchen table.
Wimsey meowed and rubbed up against my legs, but his dinner would have to wait another minute.
“Right.” I took in a deep breath and my next words came out in a rush. “Grayson and I kind of sort of might have kissed.”
“What?!” Shontelle stared at me, wide-eyed. Then she practically tackled me, throwing her arms around me and squeezing hard. “Sadie!”
Wimsey scampered out of the room.<
br />
“I can’t breathe!” I gasped as my ribcage constricted.
Shontelle released me. “Sorry! But, Sadie! Oh my gosh! That’s fantastic!” She paused and studied my face, worry clouding her expression. “It is fantastic, right?”
“I think so?”
“You don’t sound very sure.” She pulled a chair out from the table and pointed to it. “Sit and tell me everything.”
I did as requested, starting with my visit with Aunt Gilda and then moving on to Grayson finding me on the bench. I managed to eat a few fries as I filled Shontelle in, but I talked far more than I ate. When I reached the part where Grayson and I had kissed—or sort of kissed—we both forgot all about the food on the table.
Shontelle was hanging on my every word, but then I wrapped up my account by telling her how I’d basically run away from Grayson.
“I’m such a coward,” I said morosely, before chomping down on a French fry. “And then he came by the pub when I wasn’t here. What if he regrets our kiss? Almost kiss. Sort of kiss. I don’t even know what to call it!”
“Sounds like it was a near-miss kiss.”
I almost cracked a smile at that.
“And I doubt he regrets it,” Shontelle added. “He came by to see you. If he’d regretted it, he’d probably be avoiding you.”
“What if he thinks I’m avoiding him?”
“Make sure he doesn’t think that. Talk to him.”
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands.
“This is a good thing, isn’t it?” Shontelle asked.
I raised my head. “If I don’t mess it up.”
“You won’t.” She pointed a fry at me. “Talk. To. Him.”
I promised her that I would, and then we shifted our conversation to Aunt Gilda while I fed Wimsey. By the time Shontelle left the Inkwell, I was still preoccupied by thoughts of Grayson and Gilda, but I’d come to two conclusions: I had no control over whether Aunt Gilda would stay in Shady Creek or move away, but I could take the reins and make the next move in my relationship with Grayson. Even if I didn’t quite know where that move would take us.
* * *
I barely made it through a slice of toast the next morning when I sat down to breakfast. The night before, I’d sent Grayson a text message, saying I was sorry I’d missed him when he’d come by the Inkwell. He’d responded almost right away, saying he was sorry too and he hoped he’d see me soon. That had eased my concern that he might have regretted our almost-kiss. It had also given me the courage to ask if it was okay for me to stop by the brewery the next day, which was now today.