THE PHONE ON Tessa’s desk rang. Caller ID showed the call was from Guest Registration, and she picked up the receiver, keeping a careful eye on Gabe. Everything he’d said made sense, but she was still unsure how she felt about him.
“Tessa Connor,” she answered.
“It’s me,” said Aunt Polly. “You wanted to be notified when the TIP president arrived. He’s being driven to the Tofton House now.”
“How about the wine and the replacement fruit basket?” Tessa hadn’t found the energy to move the bottles herself and had asked Aunt Polly to arrange it. Aunt Polly was a shift manager, but in many ways she was also a de facto assistant manager, keeping an eye on everything and willing to step in whenever Tessa wasn’t available.
“The wine has been moved, and a runner from Sarah’s Sweet Treats just brought the new fruit basket to Reception. I’ll have someone make the delivery right away.”
“I’ll deliver it myself. See you in a few minutes.”
Tessa pocketed the envelope addressed to Rob and stood carefully, her bruised muscles protesting.
“Sorry, I have to go now,” she told Gabe politely.
He observed her slow progress around the desk. “I’d better drive you.”
The offer reminded Tessa that her father had asked her to call for a driver if she wanted to go somewhere.
“Fine,” she agreed. “I need to stop at Old City Hall and then go to the Tofton House.”
She made her way to the first floor, painfully conscious of Gabe by her side. He’d carried her down the steps at the El Dorado, which had annoyed her on two fronts. For one thing, she wasn’t a damsel in distress, and for another...every cell in her body had gone on alert. However irritating and cynical, he was a sexy guy who oozed masculine heat. She disliked responding to him that way, though it wasn’t surprising considering her social life had been on hold for over a year.
Guests were wandering around the depot; some were looking at the historical displays, while others pretended to wait for a train, picnic baskets in hand. The recorded sound of an old steam engine grew louder, and a whistle reverberated through the waiting area. Poppy Gold had even installed a device to send vibrations through the floor, simulating the arrival of a passenger train.
Tessa paused, loving the excitement on everyone’s faces. Several small groups with picnic baskets or pails got up, chattering about their upcoming “destination.” Usually even the most jaded tourists were delighted by the modifications, and train buffs were over the moon.
Gabe insisted she stay in the electric cart while he fetched the basket in Old City Hall. A moment later he strode out and deposited it in the cargo area, then drove across Poppy Gold.
“You’re quiet. Is something wrong?” he asked as he parked in front of the Tofton House.
“Just debating the right thing to do.”
“Meaning?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
He helped her down and grabbed the basket. Tessa was secretly grateful; walking was painful, and it would be worse carrying something. She tucked the envelope from her pocket between two peaches. They found Robert McKinley in the front parlor. He was looking through a stack of papers, and she smiled when he looked up.
“Welcome back to Poppy Gold,” she said.
“It’s good to see you, Tessa. Are you all right? You seem pale.”
She swallowed. “I’m fine. I just had a little accident earlier.”
“Are you certain nothing is wrong? Falls can be very serious.”
Gabe cleared his throat as Tessa frowned thoughtfully. She hadn’t mentioned falling and doubted the employees at Guest Registration would have, either.
“I have a few bruises, that’s all.” She took the basket from Gabe with her left hand and passed it to Rob. “I apologize this wasn’t in your room when you arrived. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your visit better.”
“Thank you. We always enjoy coming to Poppy Gold.”
His face looked more strained than usual. Tessa had gotten the feeling on his last trip that something was bothering him, and the impression came back stronger now. It was possible he was considering going to another conference center, but presidents of major companies didn’t hesitate when making that kind of decision, no matter how personable they might be. If it happened, it happened. She just didn’t want it to be because of poor service.
They shook hands, and she left with Gabe, still musing about what might be going on with the TIP president.
* * *
“OHMIGOSH, DID YOU hear what happened to Tessa?” Jamie asked when she met Lance in front of the ice-cream shop after her shift.
“Yeah, but she’s okay. I saw her at Maintenance.”
Jamie felt awful. Except for Aunt Meredith, the only other member of the family who’d died was Uncle Tate; he’d been killed in the navy when she was little. She hated to think about something happening to Tessa, too.
“Uncle Milt came over and checked things,” she murmured. “He even talked to the housekeeper about when the rooms were cleaned and if anyone noticed anything weird. It’s almost as if they think something is strange about the accident.”
“Who’d wanna hurt Tessa?”
“Nobody, I guess. Did Uncle Milt talk to you?”
Lance’s face tightened. “Why would he talk to me?”
“I just wondered. Why are you getting defensive?”
“Well, he didn’t. I’m going. I have to wash my clothes.”
She put her hand on his arm. “I could help or do them for you.”
“That’s okay—I can handle it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Frustration filled Jamie as he walked away. It was as if he thought she’d accused him of doing something wrong, but she’d never do that. Great-Uncle Milt had talked to a bunch of people, including her, even though she hadn’t gone into the El Dorado Mansion since they’d moved her from Housekeeping to Guest Services. He was just being careful; everybody was saying the earthquake had caused the problem with the staircase, especially with Great-Uncle Milt telling everyone to inspect their own homes for hidden damage.
Jamie straightened the sleeve on her costume. She’d hoped to share a Gold Miner’s Special with Lance at the soda parlor...coffee ice cream topped with hot fudge, toasted almonds and whipped cream. But it wouldn’t be any fun without him, and she shouldn’t be eating so much, anyhow.
She turned and viewed her reflected profile in the window. The costume was pretty, but no matter what her dad or Tessa or Lance said, she was sort of round and soft and unfinished, like she hadn’t finished growing up. It was fine for everyone to claim she was a late bloomer, but eighteen seemed awfully late to bloom.
She saw her dad’s father, Grandpa George, turn the corner. “Hey, Grandpa.”
“You look awfully serious, darling,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You must need an ice-cream cone.”
“Maybe a diet soda,” Jamie said, thinking about her reflection in the window.
He shuddered. “I can’t abide fake sweeteners. Have cold milk instead.”
Jamie wanted to laugh. Grandpa George was tall and thin like Great-Uncle Milt and didn’t need to worry about counting calories.
“Where’s that young man of yours?” Grandpa George asked when they were standing in line at the counter.
“He had stuff to do. You know, laundry and all.”
They moved to the front of the line, and the cashier gave them a smile. “May I help you, Pastor Fullerton?”
Everybody knew Grandpa George because he was the preacher at the community church.
“I’ll have a double scoop of roasted almond mocha on a waffle cone. How about you, Jamie? My treat.”
Jamie debated and finally said she’d take a single scoop of lemon sherbet. Maybe she should start using the employee gym. That might help. She could go before work, then shower and change in the locker room. That way she wouldn’t miss any time with Lance.
She and Grandpa George walked down the street licking their cones. Several visitors took pictures, exclaiming over how cute her costume looked. It was great. Whenever she worked at the train depot doing living history, she wore one of the travel costumes, with her hair piled high and a fancy hat perched on top of her head.
“Mom doesn’t approve of Lance,” she murmured.
“I’m not so sure about that. Daniel tells me that Lance is respectful, and I understand he’s hardworking.”
“He is,” she agreed eagerly. “Uncle Liam says he’s never seen anyone work so hard.”
“What does his family do?”
“Uh...I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about his childhood that much.” Jamie didn’t want to mention that she thought things hadn’t been very nice when Lance was growing up. Not that he’d complained or told her anything, but that was partly why she thought so. He never talked much about family or friends, even when she asked, and he didn’t want to go back to Sacramento. Ever.
She wasn’t sure what it meant if Lance didn’t care about anybody where he’d lived most of his life. What if he decided he’d had enough of Glimmer Creek and wanted to go somewhere else? Would he leave and not look back, the way he’d left Sacramento? Jamie thought he loved her, and he’d talked about taking care of her, but sometimes talk was just talk.
“What do you and Lance chat about, then?” Grandpa asked.
She licked a drip of lemon sherbet. “Mostly about Poppy Gold or the things we’re going to do one day. He wants to make it big so he can take care of me.”
“Hmm. I don’t know how a modern gal like you puts up with him. That’s a very old-fashioned boy.”
“It takes one to know one.” Jamie tossed her cone in a trash can and hooked elbows with her grandfather. “What is Grandma making for the ice-cream social on Saturday? Mom is making blackberry pie and vanilla ice cream.”
“Trying to change the subject?”
“Uh-huh.” She’d love to confide in someone, but things were too mixed up right now.
In the past she’d gone to Aunt Meredith or called Tessa, but Aunt Meredith was gone and Tessa was busy with Poppy Gold; it didn’t seem fair to load any other problems on her.
* * *
LANCE WALKED FOR over an hour. The long grass covering the hillsides was already turning golden in the unseasonable heat, but this late in the day it wasn’t as hot. He even looked for dried-up cow patties to kick, but he didn’t see any. Finding a big heap of gold would fix a bunch of problems.
He shouldn’t have gotten uptight with Jamie. It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t like having policemen ask questions. The stuff in Sacramento was still on his record, and if the Glimmer Creek cops found out about it, who knew what they’d do? To some people, being accused of something was almost the same as being guilty. Heck, his boss at the restaurant had fired him because of it. He’d made an excuse, but Lance had overheard him talking to one of the waitresses, saying, “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Finally Lance headed back into town to do his laundry. Digging rocks and holes and other stuff was dirty, sweaty work, so there was always a lot to wash. There were two washing machines available for the tenants of Glimmer Cottages, and he pushed everything into the first one.
“Hello, Lance.”
The voice was so startling that he jumped and his knee whacked the machine. He spun around and automatically straightened. “Uh, hello, Mr. McKinley.”
“It’s Gabe.” Gabe put an armload of clothes into the other washer and pulled money from his pocket. “You were deep in thought. Is something bothering you?”
“Just stuff with my girlfriend.”
“Women can be trouble.”
“I suppose. You were in the navy, weren’t you?”
Gabe poured detergent into the tub and fed coins into the slots to start the machine. “Twenty years. I enlisted on my eighteenth birthday.”
“Did you make good money? I mean, like, enough for a wife and stuff?”
“Can’t say since I never had one. Are you thinking about getting married?”
“Someday. Jamie is pretty special.” Lance started his own washer. “I bet you earn more as an officer,” he said, rather than asking what he really wanted to know—why Gabe had taken early retirement. The guy was intimidating. Nobody could get away with pushing him around. Even though he was new, the other men in Maintenance already respected him.
“Sure, officers are in higher pay grades. Do you want to enlist?”
“Naw, just curious. I’d probably get seasick.” Enlisting sounded good, but Lance wasn’t sure if the navy would feel the same way as his old boss at the restaurant did. It might be okay if he knew how things worked, but he didn’t, and he’d have to tell someone what had happened to find out.
“There are ways to deal with motion sickness, and the navy can use people with a variety of skills,” Gabe said. “I’ve noticed you work on your motorcycle. Mechanical ability is useful in the service.”
“I guess. Did you hear about Tessa falling today? Jamie was awfully upset about it.” Lance wasn’t sure why he’d mentioned the subject, especially since it was partly why he’d gotten weird with her.
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “I got to the El Dorado Mansion soon after it happened. It was just one of those things.”
“But she isn’t hurt bad, right?”
“A little bruised, is all. Wasn’t that included in the scuttlebutt going around?”
“Scuttlebutt?”
“Gossip. That’s what we call it in the navy.”
“Oh. I asked because Jamie was still worried. Nobody would want to hurt Tessa, would they? I mean, like someone who works at Poppy Gold.” Lance didn’t know why he was pushing, but there was something odd about Gabe’s expression.
Gabe frowned. “An unhappy employee? I doubt it, though anything is possible. The Connors are decent employers and I haven’t heard that anyone has a grudge against them.”
“Me, either,” Lance agreed, feeling relieved. “And I’m sure Jamie would have told me if she’d heard anything. She says Tessa is more like her sister than a cousin.”
“Yeah.” Gabe checked his watch. “I’d better get going—I need to make a phone call.”
“Should I put your load in the dryer when it’s done?”
“Sure. Take this.” Gabe gave him a handful of quarters. “Let me know if you have more questions about the navy. It’s a good career, Lance.”
Lance nodded. “Thanks.”
When he was alone, he carefully counted the change Gabe had given him and put it in his pocket, then jumped onto the washing machine to sit and wait for his clothes to finish. He probably didn’t need to stay, but back in the city he hadn’t dared leave anything at the Laundromat, or else it got stolen. Of course, he didn’t think Gabe McKinley needed to worry about replacing a few ratty shorts and T-shirts. The guy drove a brand-new SUV that was loaded with extras like leather seats.
After a while both machines started spinning.
A deep sigh came from Lance’s gut.
He’d gotten used to spending his free time with Jamie after work and it was lonely without her. Being alone wasn’t new; he’d always been alone. But until he’d met Jamie, he’d never had anyone who truly cared about him, either.
* * *
“YOU DON’T NEED to say it,” Rob announced when he answered Gabe’s call. “I nearly blew your cover with Tessa. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you may be right that I should have told her the truth from the beginning and asked her to work with us. If she’d believed us, she could have easily gotten the local police involved. It turns out that she’s the police chief’s great-niece.”
“There’s no time like the present.”
Gabe’s jaw hardened. “Don’t quote Dad to me.”
A sigh came through the phone. “I’m not quoting Dad, I’m quoting Grandmother Ada. I saw her a good deal after she moved back from Boston.”
“Then Dad was quoting her.”
“Something like that. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he’s changed.”
“Mostly because he divorced Mom and remarried,” Gabe added. Their parents had finally gone their separate ways, but David McKinley had simply exchanged work for other obsessions—parasailing and pretending he was the same age as his twentysomething second wife. “Did you get the email suggesting we call him Dave now?”
“That may have been Shellie’s idea.”
Shellie was their “stepmother.” She was a blonde dingbat who lived in bikinis and probably didn’t know the difference between a prenuptial agreement and a battleship. On the other hand, she was pleasant and seemed genuinely fond of her husband.
“Do you honestly think she cares what Dad’s grown sons call him?”
Rob chuckled. “I just know she makes him happy.”
“Yeah, and meeting her convinced him to retire and let you run the company without interference. But back on the important subject, a kid working in Maintenance asked if someone might have a grudge against Tessa.”
“Change your mind about me being the target?”
“I’m considering options, that’s all. That’s a private staircase to the suite. Tessa’s pattern is predictable—she personally delivers all courtesy baskets for her group clients. The step could have been intended to collapse on her first visit this morning and just happened to do it the second time. Maybe the vandal got lucky that you asked for the switch.”
“You have the jolliest ideas.”
Gabe moved restlessly around his small studio cottage. “I’m just keeping an open mind, despite the hate mail you received. Tessa used to work at her grandfather’s company, and I’m sure Patrick Connor has more than his share of enemies. She may even have made a few of her own when she was in San Francisco.”
His brother didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I don’t remember you being this pessimistic about people when we were kids.”
Gabe’s mouth tightened. Tessa had accused him of cynicism, and now his brother was calling him pessimistic. He didn’t see it either way, though the criticism wasn’t new. “Ask Mom if I’ve changed,” Gabe advised his brother. “I tried tough love a few times when she was drunk, and she called me a coldhearted monster like Dad.”
There was another long silence. “At least you had the guts to try. I slept at a friend’s house whenever she’d had too much.”
The old regret went through Gabe that he hadn’t been there enough for his brother. Early in his career, while stationed in Virginia, he’d asked if Rob could spend his last year in high school back East with him, but his parents had refused, still bitter that their eldest son had enlisted instead of doing what they’d wanted him to do.
Gabe’s mother remained angry, though she seemed to have stopped drinking and was living in Arizona in an exclusive housing development on a golf course.
“Does Mom bother you much these days?” he asked.
“She calls once in a while, usually when she wants money. She’s hoping to enter a senior golf tournament. Do you want me to give her your cell number?”
“Perish the thought. You don’t have to talk to her, either, and you certainly shouldn’t be giving her money. I’m sure she got plenty in the divorce.”
“Still trying to protect me? I’m all grown up now, you know.”
“It’s a habit,” Gabe muttered. The only reason he was at Poppy Gold, pretending to know something about petunias and lawn mowers, was because he was still trying to take care of his little brother. Would he always feel guilty for leaving Rob alone with their parents?
He shook himself.
“Anyway, about the staircase,” he said, “I’m not rejecting any possibility. I’ll tell you something interesting, though... A group was supposed to check into the El Dorado Mansion last night. But they didn’t show or call to cancel.”
“It would have offered the opportunity to rig the stairs.”
“That’s what I think.” Gabe frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about those letters as soon you started getting them?”
“Because there’s nothing unusual about the president of a large, international company getting hate mail. If we import a product that’s also made in the United States, somebody accuses me of not supporting American workers. If a food product isn’t organic, I get letters saying I’m poisoning children. There are a lot of people out there, with a lot of opinions.”
“But TIP makes every effort to import fair-trade products.”
“Doesn’t matter. Are you warning Tessa, too?”
“I’m going over again tonight, and I’ll look for a way to suggest staying on her guard. But when I get a chance I may also talk with the Glimmer Creek police chief. He’s already suspicious about what happened—he was questioning employees right and left today, which will probably make the culprit hunker down for a little bit. Nonetheless, be alert and careful.”
“Local police involvement might be best, though they may feel the same way about the lack of evidence as the FBI.”
“Threatening letters are evidence, so I need copies.”
“When I get home. They’re in my office safe.”
Gabe got off, wishing he could find out who had reserved the mansion for the night. The name on the credit card might give him a jump in his investigation, but getting the information from Tessa was bound to be a challenge. On the other hand, it was most likely a case of identity theft.
If he could just find some convincing evidence, the FBI would probably be able take over the investigation. In the meantime, he had to keep searching.