Prologue to Murder

by Lauren Elliott

  He nodded, lifting the cup to his lips. “Exactly what I needed, thanks.” He set it down. “No, it’s not, but I’m on my way home from a business meeting in Boston and am living north of Albany now. So, before the forecast changed, I’d already decided on a short detour to drop in to wish you a merry Christmas.” He reached over and clasped her hand, guiding her to the stool beside him. “But now it appears it’s going to have to be a shorter visit than I first planned.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by anyway.” Her throat tightened. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” She released her hand from his.

  Paige coughed and placed the large urn on the end of the counter, glancing at the stranger.

  “Paige, this is—”

  The chimes over the door jangled. “Morning, Addie.” Catherine Lewis swept toward the counter. She pulled off her gloves and slid onto a stool.

  “Good morning, Catherine.” Addie rose to her feet. “You’re out and about early today.”

  “Yes, lots of shopping to do, and my car’s in the garage. So I’m on foot today and have a lot of ground to cover. I thought I’d better get an early start and headed right here for one of your delicious fresh brewed coffees to get me going.” She nodded at the silver-haired man seated beside her.

  “Paige, Catherine, I’d like you both to meet my . . . umm, David’s father. Jonathan Hemingway.”

  “Hemingway?” Paige’s brow creased. “I thought David’s last name was Armstrong or something?”

  Addie nudged Paige with her elbow.

  “Yes.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “His name was Hemingway. His mother and I divorced when he was quite young, and she remarried.”

  “You’re a relative of Addie’s?” Catherine turned to him, her hand outstretched. “How wonderful.”

  His eyes and hand held fast with hers. “I must say, your husband is a very lucky man.”

  “I’m . . . I’m not married.” Her porcelain complexion turned a shade of peach.

  “Jonathan, this is Catherine Lewis. She’s a good friend of mine and was also a close friend of my father’s.”

  “It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Catherine.” He brought her delicate hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Any friend of Addie’s and the late Michael Greyborne’s is a friend of mine, too.”

  “Hemingway, like the author?” she all but purred when his thumb began stroking the back of her hand.

  Paige looked at Addie, who was in the midst of an involuntary eye roll.

  “Yes, he’s a distant relative and may be the reason my son had such a fascination with books and women who love books.” He glanced at Addie, but then caressed Catherine with another gaze. “Do you love books, too, Catherine?”

  Catherine let out a breathy sigh and pulled her hand away. Her already flushed cheeks brightened with an intense, fiery hue. She straightened wayward strands of her brown, shoulder-cropped hair, slid off her stool, and backed toward the door. A shy smile graced her lips. “It . . . ah . . . was wonderful to meet you. I hope . . .” She swallowed. “I hope I run into you again, Jonathan, before you leave.” She studied the tips of her toes before bolting out the door.

  Addie looked at Jonathan from under a creased brow. “I see you haven’t changed at all.” She clucked her tongue.

  He tossed his head back and released a barrel-chested laugh. Addie gave Paige a dismissive head tilt, and after the girl retreated with the book cart into the back room, Addie glowered at him.

  He smirked. “What?”

  “I see you’re still up to your same old tricks. I thought you promised David that was all in the past.”

  He looked up at her and set his cup down. “And I see you have carried on the same grudge my son held against me for years. He forgave me in the end, Addie. Why can’t you?”

  She threw her hands in the air. “I did, and I tried, for David’s sake, but what do you expect after that seduction I just witnessed?”

  “Really? Just exactly what did you see? Me being kind to an attractive woman? I didn’t see her complaining. Did you?”

  “I saw the same thing I saw for the five years David and I were together. Something he’d lived with his entire life.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And just what was that?”

  “Every time you dropped in out of the blue, there was a different woman on your arm. You’d deposit her on our doorstep and disappear, leaving us to entertain your flavor of the month and then not return for hours, acting all nonchalant like you’d just popped down to get something from your car.” Her knuckles whitened when she gripped the edge of the counter. “You never showed any regard for the emotional havoc those visits created, leaving me to try to put him back together after you’d disappear again for months without another word.”

  “I didn’t realize that my family visits were such an imposition on you.” His lip twitched.

  “They wouldn’t have been except for the fact that you never spent any time with your son, and left us to make small talk with your . . . your . . .” Her whole body vibrated.

  He shrugged. “They were all in a similar line of work as you were in, and there were even a few who were in David’s line. So, you had something in common with them.” His hand clasped hers. “Look, I was busy. Working.”

  “Working?” Her eyes widened. “The visits were just a cover for having us babysit your latest piece of arm candy?”

  “Addie.” He squeezed her hand. “David eventually came to understand the hours my work demanded, and he didn’t let it stand in the way of our relationship the last few years.” She yanked her hand out of his. “Why can’t you let the past go, too?”

  Her chin jutted out. “Because you kept lying to him, and it broke my heart.”

  Jonathan’s shoulders stiffened. “I never lied to my son.”

  “But you did, every time you’d tell him that this wasn’t like the old days, that this woman was serious. But it never was, because he saw the same old revolving door of your women friends, just like he had his whole life. Then you’d promise him that the next visit would be longer, and you’d spend more time with him.” Her eyes flashed. “Did you know that after one of your later visits, he started to become withdrawn? He seemed worried and wouldn’t even talk to me about you anymore.”

  “I see.” He stood up and collected his hat and gloves from the counter. “Just remember that everything is not always as it appears. David came to know that.” He placed his hat on his head and nodded, pulling one glove on.

  “Look, Jonathan, we’re like family, and I want to believe in you, but Catherine is a good woman. A nice woman. But she’s emotionally fragile, because she’s been hurt more than she ever should have been during her life. Stay away from her, please. She doesn’t need you and your old philandering ways, only to have her heart broken again.”

  He tilted his head. One corner of his mouth twitched. “Give me more credit than that, will you?”

  “I know you, Jonathan.”

  He leaned over the counter, fixing his steel-gray eyes on hers. “Do you?”

  She crossed her arms and nodded. “I just saw it with my own eyes.”

  He straightened and pulled on his other glove. “Don’t worry about Catherine. I’m pretty sure she’s a big girl and is capable of making her own decisions.” His brow rose, and he smirked. “I have a lunch date, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  “I’m warning you. Stay away from her, please. For me. I don’t want to have to clean up another mess in the wake of your visit.”

  To her surprise, he smiled just a little, revealing a suggestion of dimples in both of his cheeks. Addie wavered. Everything about his features reminded her of David, from the set of his jaw to his magnetic gray eyes and the way he held his head. David had looked exactly like a younger version of him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his throaty voice softening, “I’m not about to go chasing down the street after Catherine. My luncheon is with an old friend who lives in Greyborne Harbor now.”

&
nbsp; “Who’s that? Another friend of mine I’ll have to warn about becoming involved with you?” She searched his face for a moment. “Although if she knew you before, I’m pretty sure she knows what you’re all about.”

  His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischievousness. “She does, don’t worry. Teresa Lang is very familiar with my ways.”

  “Teresa Lang.” Her eyes flashed.

  His lips turned up at the corners.

  “You don’t mean the same Teresa who’s the charity fundraising coordinator for the Hospital Foundation, do you?”

  “Yes, why, do you know her?”

  “I have an appointment with her today after lunch about the Christmas Charity Auction.”

  “Then you’d better not plan on her being there until at least mid-afternoon. You know, in case our lunch date goes as per usual.” He gave her a sly wink and then added, “Merry Christmas.” The door closed behind him, the overhead chimes seemingly singing with joy at his departure.