Past Due for Murder
Page 27
Richard and Karla both smiled and offered Sunny and I heartfelt goodbyes before heading off toward the young dancers still clustered by the stage.
Sunny’s gaze followed their progress across the festival lawn. “You really do trust him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” I smiled as Richard’s dancers crowded around him and Karla. “Which is the most amazing, wonderful thing.”
“Sounds like true love to me.” Sunny threw her arm around my shoulders. “Now come on. Let’s chow down on some disgusting fried food.”
“Lead on, my friend,” I replied. “Acid reflux waits for no man. Or woman.”
Sunny just grinned and herded me toward the food trucks.
Chapter Thirty
By the time Sunny dropped me off at the house after the festival, Aunt Lydia and Hugh had already eaten dinner and were lounging in the sitting room, discussing Hugh’s latest success in reuniting a stolen painting with its owner.
“There’s some leftovers in the refrigerator,” Aunt Lydia said as I paused in the doorway.
“No thanks. Sunny and I gorged ourselves on the most unhealthy stuff imaginable, and now”—I rubbed my stomach—“I think I need an antacid, not more food.”
“Very well.” Aunt Lydia looked up from her seat on the sofa and motioned toward one of the vacant armchairs. “Come join us if you wish. Hugh was just telling me about solving an art theft case from over ten years ago.”
“They finally nabbed the culprit after all this time, with your help?”
“Yes, it was quite unexpected.” Hugh was seated close enough to my aunt to drape one arm around her shoulders. “Some new technology came into play that helped identify a piece that had been slightly altered to hide its true origin.”
My aunt’s carefully applied rose-pink lipstick was smudged. I leaned against the door frame. Talking about art, indeed, I thought with a little smile. Not until you heard the front door, I bet.
“That sounds interesting, and I’d like to hear more about it some other time, but for now I think I’m going to head upstairs and grab a shower. I have a garden rendezvous with Richard around nine, and to be honest I feel like my skin absorbed every bit of grease wafting from those food trucks.”
“Very well,” Aunt Lydia said. “We can always talk later. I do want to hear about this former partner of Richard’s who showed up so unexpectedly today.”
“Karla? Okay, but I don’t have much to tell that you don’t already know.” I considered Kurt’s admission of his hand in the matter, but no—I’d promised to keep that a secret. “Anyway, see you guys later. Carry on,” I added as I headed for the stairs.
I was gratified to hear Aunt Lydia say, “What does she mean by that?” and Hugh’s chuckle in response.
After my shower, I decided to throw on the cotton dress I’d worn to Kurt’s dinner party. The idea of meeting in the garden under the stars seemed to call for something more elegant than just jeans and a T-shirt. I even blow-dried my hair and added a touch of mascara before I slipped on some backless sandals. But recalling my aunt’s smudged mouth, I’d only used gloss, not lipstick. Because kissing would be involved. I was sure of that.
Dashing down the stairs right before nine o’clock, I called out to let Aunt Lydia and Hugh know I was headed to the garden but received no reply.
Kissing is probably involved, I thought with a grin.
The garden was bathed in shadows and steeped in the scent of roses. I stood next to the concrete birdbath on the gravel path and allowed the sounds of the night to wash over me. Crickets chirped like a section of untuned violins while the tree frogs contributed their high-pitched glissandos and an occasional owl hoot resonated like a bassoon.
Perfect background music, I thought, as footfalls stirred the pea gravel behind me.
“Hello you,” Richard said.
I turned around to meet his approving gaze. “Hi. Did you and Karla have a good talk?”
“We did,” Richard said, talking hold of both my hands. “But right now I want to focus on you. I really like that dress, by the way.”
“I know. You told me that before. Which is why I’m wearing it tonight.”
“Well, thank you.” Keeping his grip on my fingers, Richard swung our joined hands gently forward and back.
“You look pretty spiffy yourself,” I said, admiring his pewter-gray cotton sweater and charcoal slacks. “Is that sweater new? It looks great with your eyes.”
Richard smiled. “It is, thanks, and … I confess I chose it for that very reason.”
“Good choice.” I stepped closer, forcing him to pull our clasped hands to his chest. “I didn’t really get a chance to tell you earlier, but you and Karla dancing today … well, that was just magical. Improvised, I take it?”
“But based on things we’d done before. We know each other’s dance vocabulary pretty well.”
“I bet.” I looked up into his face, noting the set line of his jaw. “Is anything wrong? You seem a little tense.”
Richard released his hold on my hands. “No, just a busy and surprising day. Not exactly what I planned.”
I stroked the side of his face. “But you did plan this little rendezvous. Why?”
“To see you, of course. We haven’t gotten to spend as much time together lately as I’d like. And …” He slipped an arm around my waist. “There was something I wanted to share with you.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you.” He turned sideways with his arm still at my waist. “We must walk into the woods,” he added, leading me down the path.
“Now wait a minute.” I planted my feet. “I think I’ve spent enough time wandering around the woods lately.”
Richard laughed. “We won’t wander. I have a destination in mind.”
“Okay, but you’d better stay with me the entire time.”
“Right by your side,” he said, guiding me onto the narrow path that led into the trees that bordered the back of the garden.
We’d only walked a short distance when we stepped into the clearing that held an old arbor draped in native wisteria vines.
Battery-operated lanterns lined the interior of the arbor, illuminating the area.
“Oh, it’s blooming!” I pulled away from Richard to clap my hands. “I’ve never seen it like this, covered in flowers.”
“I know. That’s why I brought you here.” Richard walked into the arbor and held out his hand. “It’s even more beautiful under the vines.”
I crossed to him, exclaiming in delight as I entered the arbor. The moon spangled the ground under our feet with sequins of golden light, while the wisteria vines were hung with leaves and blossoms that created amethyst and emerald chandeliers.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said in a hushed voice. “Like an entry to a magical world.”
“But, I promise, not to the lands of the fae.” Richard took me by the hand. “I read that wisteria only blooms profusely for a week or two, and around this time. I’ve been keeping an eye out for it this year.”
“So you could show me?” I glanced down at the lanterns. “You obviously set this up ahead of time. Was it all just for me?”
“Yes.” Richard smiled. “Remember—we walked through here last year. That was when we first met, after the vines had already bloomed.”
“I remember. You said something about Daniel and Eleanora Cooper probably coming out here to … what was it? Oh right—spoon.”
He tapped my nose with one finger. “Which means kissing.”
“I know what it means.” I tipped my head and studied his shadowed face. “You really are such a romantic. All this effort because you wanted to kiss me under the wisteria blossoms. Now, I must know—when did you start planning this?”
“The first time we walked through here,” he said, his smile fading.
“Wow.” I pulled my hand free and stepped back. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely. I mean, I knew I wanted to kiss you under this ar
bor. What I didn’t know yet was what else I wanted.”
I stared at him. “Why so serious? And, in case you hadn’t noticed, you haven’t kissed me yet.”
“I know. The truth is, there’s something I want to do first.” Richard audibly swallowed as he clenched and unclenched his hands.
I clasped my own hands in front of me to still their trembling. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Richard said, his voice shaking. “I’m perfect. Everything’s perfect, only …”
My response caught in my throat as he bent down on one knee in front of me.
“Amy Alice Webber,” he said, his voice vibrating with emotion, “will you marry me?”
I stared at him as the faint scent of the wisteria drifted over me. “Oh. Well, I … I …” My mouth felt as dry as the garden after weeks without rain. I licked my lips and cleared my throat and stared down into Richard’s eyes.
Beautiful and intelligent and honest eyes—filled with a love I knew in my heart was real.
Absolutely, truly real.
“Yes, of course I will,” I said, my voice ringing out clearly, and as strong as mountain granite.
Richard leapt up and wrapped me in his arms. He kissed me for quite some time before whispering, “I don’t have a ring. I thought you’d probably prefer that we choose one together.”
“Yes, together. I like together,” I said, and kissed him again before adding, “Always together.”
Also available by Victoria Gilbert
Blue Ridge Library Mysteries
Shelved Under Murder
A Murder for the Books
Author Biography
Victoria Gilbert, raised in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains, turned her early obsession with reading into a dual career as an author and librarian. Victoria has worked as a reference librarian, research librarian, and library director. When not writing or reading, she likes to spend her time watching films, gardening, or traveling. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers and lives in North Carolina. This is her third Blue Ridge Library mystery.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Vicki Lemp Weavil
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-68331-874-3
ISBN (ePub): 978-1-68331-875-0
ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-68331-876-7
Cover illustration by Griesbach/Martucci
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
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First Edition: February 2019
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