by Krista Davis
I turned down the long drive to the house, clutching Trixie’s leash tightly in case she was tempted to leap off the golf cart and chase a rabbit or a squirrel. I parked, and we walked up to the white front door. It seemed to me that the boxwoods weren’t quite as perfectly trimmed as I remembered. I banged the door knocker.
No one answered. I didn’t hear footsteps inside. I tried again. Still no answer.
I turned and gazed at the sprawling farm. She was probably in the barn tending to the horses.
We walked around the side of the house and across to the horse barn. Fallen leaves crunched under my feet.
“Stop! I have a gun, and I will shoot you.”
I stopped in my tracks and shouted, “Clementine? Don’t shoot! It’s Holly!” I glanced around. “Where are you?”
Clementine peered over stacked hay bales. She stood up, let out a huge breath of air, and dusted off her trousers, holding a revolver by her right leg. “Sorry about that.” Dark bags hung under her eyes, unmistakable against her delicate complexion.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure. What brings you out here?” Her eyes darted around, as if she expected someone else to suddenly appear.
“Oma and I were concerned about you. Was that your ex-husband following you yesterday?”
Clementine stared at me blankly for a moment, as though she didn’t know what to say. “Oh, that.” She flipped her hand casually. “It was nothing.”
It didn’t look like nothing to me. “I see. That’s why you’re hiding behind hay bales with a gun.”
Her mouth pulled to the side. “I don’t know who he is.” She heaved another sigh. “He just seems to turn up everywhere I go.”
“Have you told Officer Dave? Maybe he can talk to the guy.”
As soon as I mentioned Dave, Clementine appeared panicked. She waved a thin forefinger. “No, no, no. Not Dave. I’m fine. I can handle this.”
I was getting a little peeved with her. “Clementine, what’s going on?”
“Okay, look”—she brushed her long ponytail back with her free hand—“he’s someone I dated in college. He heard I was divorced and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I thought he’d give up when I moved back to Wagtail, but he found me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re such a lousy liar. If you dated him, why do you need a gun?”
“And you’re a pill. Haven’t you ever dated someone who seemed obsessed? I have kids to protect. What if he flips out?”
Hmm, okay. I could buy that. I didn’t hear any wild children, though. “Are the kids in school?”
“I’m homeschooling them this year. Maybe next year too. I’m not sure yet. But I know my limits—they’re in Wagtail, learning French this morning. Kids pick up languages so fast. I’d hate to miss this window of opportunity when it’s easy for them. Outside of menus, my French is pretty limited.”
I knew that feeling. “How about lunch at the inn today before you pick up the kids? Oma would love to see you.”
Her expression softened. “Really? I would like that. You have no idea how much I would enjoy that.”
“You sure you’re okay out here alone? It’s so quiet without any dogs around.”
“No kidding! I’m used to them setting up an alarm if anyone comes on the property. Don’t worry about me. I’m getting ready to muck out stalls. No one will mess with me if I have a pitchfork and horse poop at my disposal.”
At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.
Trixie and I drove back to the inn. I parked the golf cart and strode toward the reception entrance. The doors whooshed open automatically, and Trixie ran inside, but I stopped, stunned. I could hardly believe my eyes. Zelda was twirling a lock of long hair around her finger, coyly looking up into the face of the very man who had followed Clementine.
Seventeen
Trixie didn’t share my hesitation. She ran to him, all wiggles and wags. He stooped to pet her, telling her what a cute dog she was.
I wanted to rip her away from him. Couldn’t she sense that he was an enemy?
Zelda called me over. “Holly, this is Parker Colby. He’s staying in Swim.”
He was a guest at the inn? I reluctantly offered my hand, forcing a cheerful innkeeper’s smile. “Holly Miller. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”
He still wore the day-old beard. He must have one of those shavers that leaves stubble on purpose. He’d ditched the army jacket for a brown leather one, though. Had I been asked, I would have said he needed a haircut, but given the stubble, I suspected he wore his hair tousled and tumbled intentionally.
“I certainly am. Everyone in Wagtail has been friendly and welcoming.”
Really? Clementine’s gun hadn’t been exactly welcoming. I played innocent, though, and changed the subject fast. “What brings you to Wagtail?” This ought to be interesting.
He smiled, revealing white teeth that seemed a little too perfect. “I’m looking for a town to locate the headquarters of a new dog magazine. Wagtail seems like just the place.”
I hadn’t expected that response. Then again, who would admit that he was chasing an old girlfriend? Especially when he appeared to have been flirting with Zelda? He’d said it so smoothly. He hadn’t stammered as though I’d caught him by surprise. He must have had that line prepared. I looked around. “Where’s your dog?”
“I’m on my own this trip. But I hope to bring them soon.” He flashed the pretty grin at me again. “Tell me, who would I speak with about real estate in Wagtail?”
Zelda jumped in, rattling off names and handing him a brochure.
Meanwhile, I was thinking that he played his game very well. I’d bet he had suckered everyone in town. A con man, perhaps? We needed to be wary. Would I be betraying Clementine somehow if I mentioned Parker to Dave? Of course, Dave was so busy with Mallory’s death that . . .
I gave a little jolt that Parker noticed. What if Parker had something to do with Mallory’s demise? I had no reason to think Mallory had any connection with Parker, but there was something smarmy about this guy, no matter how gorgeous he was.
With Clementine on my mind, I spent the next few hours taking care of business at the inn.
Shelley nabbed me when I passed through the dining area. “I just took three pumpkin raviolis with sage sauce down to your office for lunch. Clementine is there with your grandmother.”
As if she understood, Trixie stood on her hind legs and gazed at Shelley with desperate eyes.
“Don’t worry, little Trixie. There’s a doggie version for you, too.”
Trixie wagged her tail and raced along the corridor toward the office.
“How could she know?” I asked.
Shelley shrugged. “Beats me. They understand a lot more than we realize. Or maybe she smells the food.”
I joined Oma, Clementine, and Trixie in the office. The sun had burned through the clouds, turning it into a beautiful fall day. Lunch had been set up on the small terrace outside, complete with an orange tablecloth and matching purple napkins printed with orange jack-o’-lanterns.
Clementine was carrying Twinkletoes in her arms upside down, like a baby. I could hear her purring.
“I’m so glad you came!”
“I think I’m suffering from mommy syndrome. It’s a treat for me to talk with adults. Not to mention to eat with people who don’t throw their vegetables.”
Oma placed a gentle hand on Clementine’s arm. “Enjoy these years, liebling. They go all too fast.”
“I’m sure they do. It’s tough herding triplets, though. Especially two rowdy boys.”
We were about to take our seats at the table when Mr. Huckle entered carrying a tray laden with beverages.
Clementine rushed toward him. “Mr. Huckle!” She waited until he set the tray on the buffet. But when he turned around she
embraced him, sobbing.
Their affection for each other was so evident that my eyes welled up, too.
“Now, now, Miss Clementine. We don’t make scenes in public.” But no sooner was his back to us than he reached into a pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his own eyes.
He served hot coffee and iced tea while Trixie ran in frantic circles, impatiently waiting for her food.
Mr. Huckle served Trixie and winked at Clementine before he left.
“I miss him so much.” Clementine sniffled. “I think it broke Daddy’s heart to let him go.” She looked at Oma. “Thank you for giving him a job. At his age, not many people would have taken a chance on him.”
“He is wonderful!” Oma gushed. “The guests love him. And he’s very classy in his uniform. It takes the whole inn up a notch. Yes?”
We caught up a little bit, with Oma asking questions about Clementine’s children. In typical nosy fashion, she asked in a matter-of-fact conversational way, “Your husband—he was having an affair with another woman?”
Ouch. Nothing like coming right out and putting it on the table.
Clementine speared a piece of ravioli. “That’s all behind me now.”
Deftly avoided, Clementine.
But Oma didn’t give up. “Holly tells me that a man is following you.”
“Oh! It’s nothing.”
Oma focused on her and waggled a finger. “Your father is away, and you need our help. Now you be truthful with me, Clementina.”
Clementine beamed at her. “No one has called me that in, gosh, over a decade!”
“Don’t change the subject. What is the story with this man? Who is he and what does he want with you?”
Clementine glanced at me. I just grinned. She clearly wasn’t used to Oma’s no-holds-barred interrogation style. I took another bite of the fabulous ravioli. I wasn’t about to step in to save Clementine from Oma, though. The man was following her, and that couldn’t be a good thing. I waited for her response, concentrating on the creamy pumpkin ravioli filling, which didn’t seem like it should go with a savory sage sauce, but the combination was delicious.
“Oma,” said Clementine, “don’t make a fuss. He’s simply someone I used to date. You probably had a lot of admirers. You must know what that’s like.”
“I still have admirers.”
We all burst out laughing. But I was thinking how cleverly Clementine had distracted Oma by turning the subject to her.
Oma sipped her coffee. “What is this man’s name?”
Clementine blinked too many times before answering.
“Russell Lake.”
Eighteen
Bad timing. I had just taken a swig of iced tea when Clementine lied about the name of her stalker. I choked and coughed.
Oma raised an eyebrow.
Clementine looked at me with alarm, and I knew it wasn’t because she was afraid I couldn’t breathe. I assured them I was fine, which gave Oma license to return to the subject of the mysterious Russell Lake—or Parker Colby—whoever he was.
“Why do you hide from this man?” Oma demanded.
“Oma, I have all I can handle right now. The divorce has only been final for a few months. The last thing I need is a romance. Is that jaded of me? Maybe I am a little bit sour on romance now. My children and my father come first.”
“You are afraid of this Russell?”
Clementine paused too long.
“Then I will call Dave. You will stay here at the inn with us.”
“I couldn’t do that. Really.”
“I have two bedrooms,” I said. “I could bunk with Oma. You and the kids could have the run of my apartment.”
“We couldn’t. It’s very kind of you to offer.”
Oma gazed at Trixie. “Do you have a dog?”
“I do!” Clementine seemed relieved that the topic of conversation had changed. “Star Baby. She’s from one of Babylicious’s litters.”
“Too bad you did not bring her with you today.”
“Dad took her to the show.”
Poor Clementine uttered those words without realizing that she had walked right into Oma’s trap.
“Then you must stay here with us.”
“Oh no!” I was so eager to help Clementine that it hadn’t dawned on me that the inn wasn’t the safest place for her. “Oma, I’m afraid Russell is a guest of the inn.”
Oma’s fork fell to the stone terrace with a clank. “What?”
Clementine turned toward me in shock and confusion.
I picked up Oma’s fork.
Oma clasped her hands to her cheeks. “Nothing like this has ever happened before in all the years that I have run this inn. Nothing!”
Mr. Huckle appeared in the doorway with a fresh fork. “Begging your pardon, madam, but I will gladly go to stay with Miss Clementine and the children.”
“But—”
He stopped Clementine before she could say more. “It would be my pleasure. You are like a daughter to me. I like to think that if I had had a daughter, she would have been exactly like you, Miss Clementine. I shan’t leave you alone in your hour of need.” He turned to Oma. “Shall I serve dessert now, madam?”
What a sneaky old fellow. I bet there wasn’t much going on in the inn that he didn’t know about.
Our lunch ended on a high note, but when Clementine took her leave, I made a point of escorting her out. Trixie went with us.
“Thanks for making up that story about Russell Lake staying here.”
I laughed out loud. No wonder she was confused. “But he is. Under a different name.”
Clementine’s face flushed red when she realized she’d been caught. “Holly, I’m sorry I lied. Is he really bunking at the inn?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“What’s his name?”
“You honestly don’t know?”
“Please, you saw right through that. Trixie is a Jack Russell, and we were sitting out near the lake. Russell Lake.”
“I gather that means he’s not an old boyfriend.”
Clementine stared down the pedestrian zone. “You and Oma are dear friends. You can’t imagine how much I hated lying to you.” Clementine folded her arms across her chest. “I came back to Wagtail to escape something terrible. The kids and I need a fresh start. I don’t want my personal troubles all over town. I don’t want to be that woman. I don’t want people feeling sorry for me or whispering when I pass by. And most of all, I don’t want my children growing up and hearing the whispers and the rumors and living with the shame.”
I could understand that. I wasn’t one to broadcast all my personal problems, either. “It sounds like a terrible divorce.”
She held one hand over her forehead. “You can’t begin to imagine.”
I let it go. I didn’t want to pry. “He registered under the name of Parker Colby. Do you think your husband sent him?”
She finally met my eyes. “We’ll be fine with Mr. Huckle. We’ll be just fine.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Mr. Huckle was a sweet old man, but somehow, I doubted that he was much protection.
She picked up my hand and gave it a squeeze. “This is why I came home to Wagtail. People look out for each other here.” She gasped. “Isn’t it ironic that I don’t want people in town to know my troubles, yet I expect them to protect me and my children?”
She ducked down the little passageway lined with bushes and hopped into a golf cart driven by Mr. Huckle.
Trixie and I returned to reception. We had barely entered when Oma said, “I know every guest in this inn. There is no Russell Lake. The guest who follows Clementine, is he a ghost hunter?”
“It’s Parker Colby.”
“Nooo!” whined Zelda. “It couldn’t be. He’s so dreamy. He wouldn’t be that scuzzy. There must be a mistake.”
Oma’s lips pursed. “You always like the bad boys, Zelda. You should make a point of looking for nice men.”
“Not all gorgeous men are bad to the bone,” she protested.
“You and Felix make a cute couple,” I said.
Oma glanced up from the computer. “You, my liebchen, have the reverse problem. You must break away from the boring studious types, like your ex-boyfriend. Has he called you yet?”
“No. I really don’t expect him to call. It’s over, Oma.”
“Did he help you pack?”
“No.”
“Hmpff. It’s a good thing you broke off that relationship. I’m glad to see him go. Hmm, I have our Mr. Colby here. He is from New York City.”
Zelda peered at the computer. “He doesn’t sound like a New Yorker. If you’d said he was from Texas, I might have believed you.”
“The three of us will keep an eye on him, yes? And I will notify Officer Dave.”
“Oma, Clementine doesn’t want that. She said she came here for a fresh start and doesn’t want the whole town knowing about her shameful troubles with her husband.”
“Shameful? She has nothing to be ashamed of if her husband betrayed her.”
“I think it might be worse than that. She doesn’t want people feeling sorry for her.”
“So it’s like that, is it? An abusive husband, you think? That’s still nothing to be ashamed of. However, I understand her desire not to be pitied. I would feel the same way.” Oma looked from me to Zelda. “The first sign of trouble, and we notify Officer Dave. Agreed?”
The phone rang and Oma answered. When she hung up, she asked, “Would you mind giving Shelley a hand with the ghost hunters since Mr. Huckle has gone to help Clementine?”
“I’m on it!”
Trixie’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor as she hurried along the corridor with me.
The Apparition Apprehenders had gathered in the Dogwood Room, the open sitting area next to the grand staircase. Felix was leaning back on a sofa with his eyes closed, but he held a mug on his lap. Brian perched next to him, jazzed and energetic. Casper lay quietly at their feet.