LANCE HAD A funny expression on his face when Jamie told him at lunch that she was going to start attending her class in Stockton again.
“Uh, okay,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, of course not. I just... It’s nice when we can get together after work, that’s all. But I know you want to finish.”
“I just have to go to a few more classes and write an extra term paper to make up for the time I missed. It won’t be that long.”
He still seemed distracted, and she kissed his cheek.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you.” Until now she’d mostly stayed quiet when he was quiet, but sometimes people had to talk.
“Are you going away to college this fall?”
“I’ll start taking more classes in Stockton, but I’m going to keep working at Poppy Gold. We’ll still have lots of time together, Lance, I promise. And maybe we could both take some classes.”
Lance shifted his feet and looked even more miserable. “I’m not like you, Jamie. I should have told you before, but my grades were lousy in high school. Nobody expected a kid like me to go to college or do anything important, so it never seemed worth the trouble.”
Jamie didn’t know what “a kid like me” meant, but she knew Lance was smart and good and could do whatever he wanted, no matter where he’d grown up.
“Do you want to go to college?” she asked cautiously.
“I never thought about it.”
“Well, if it’s what you want, I think you can take classes at a junior college, even without good grades. Besides, you’re supersmart. Look at how you put the stone wall together next to the orchard. The rocks fit together and it’s really straight, even though the ground is so uneven. I couldn’t have done it for a million bucks.”
He began to smile a little. “That didn’t take brains, just muscle.”
“I don’t know. I’m terrible at math, but Mom says you must be really good in geometry and stuff.”
His shoulders straightened. “Your mom said that?”
“Yeah. I showed her and Dad the wall on Sunday morning before church. I wanted them to see how hard you worked on it and the orchard.” The clock on top of Old City Hall bonged, and she hurriedly gave Lance a kiss. “I have to go back to work. Talk to you later at the creek.”
At the train depot, Jamie went around to the back of the building. She climbed onto the second passenger car and moved forward, talking to picnicking tourists. When the train whistle sounded, she stepped out onto the platform as if she’d just arrived from a journey. It was part of her living history act.
Poppy Gold employees and volunteers did living history on Fridays and weekends, and it was Jamie’s favorite work assignment. She loved dressing in costumes and pretending to live in the late 1890s. The character she played was Isabelle Douglas, a real girl who’d been born in Glimmer Creek, though nobody knew what had happened to her after she ran off with a handsome gold miner headed to the Klondike.
That is...nobody in Glimmer Creek knew. Somebody had to know, and Jamie was trying to find the answer by writing to historical societies in Alaska and checking old census records. Isabelle’s story had always seemed romantic, but lately Jamie was starting to wonder how much fun it would have been to live in a tent and crouch for hours panning gold in freezing-cold water. Chapped hands and woolen long johns didn’t sound romantic or sexy.
The waiting room was crowded when Jamie went inside. She smiled, aware that she was the center of attention in her costume. For several minutes she wandered around talking to people, and then a man stepped up to her, gesturing toward the high ceiling.
“You can’t tell me they had ceiling fans back in the 1800s,” he announced loudly. Clearly he wasn’t pretending to be anything except a tourist in plaid shorts. “If you’re going to have anachronisms in a historic building, it ought to be air-conditioning.”
“Honey, it wouldn’t kill you to play along,” scolded the woman next to him.
“I’d rather be golfing.”
Jamie gave them both an earnest look. “Sir, some people in Glimmer Creek think it would be more modern to put those electric ceiling fans into the railroad station, but my father disagrees. He believes the ones that use water are quieter.”
The golf enthusiast frowned. “Water?”
Other guests had perked up their ears and were coming closer, as well.
“Well, yes,” Jamie said, pleased. “A stream of water turns this... Oh, dear, I’m not educated about such things. Gentlemen know so much more about mechanics. It isn’t like a mill’s waterwheel, but it’s something else that turns. Do you know what it might be, sir?”
“Gears... No, a turbine,” the man said, plainly determined to trump the ideas being thrown out by other gentlemen in the crowd around him.
“Goodness, you’re clever,” Jamie exclaimed. She loved it when people were interested, even when she had to play dumb to get their attention. “The turbine makes the belts turn, which then spin the two blades. Papa says that all the fans in this part of the depot run off the same turbine. He owns stock in the railroad, so he should know.”
The visitors gazed upward at the high ceiling where the fans turned lazily. They were the real, honest-to-gosh fans installed in the 1870s and were still powered by water. The system had been refurbished, of course, but the Connors were really proud of it.
Jamie had met Lance two months ago while explaining how the ceiling fans worked, so they were extra special to her for that reason alone.
* * *
GABE STOOD ON one side of the depot waiting room, watching Jamie Fullerton chatter to the tourists. She was an excellent actress and artlessly wove a wide range of information into her spiel.
After a while he heard the sound of clopping hooves outside, and soon an older man stepped inside the depot, dressed in the elegant garb of a Victorian gentleman.
“So sorry I’m late, my dear,” he said, coming over and kissing her forehead.
“I don’t mind, Papa. I’ve been talking to these nice people. They’re waiting for a train. Everyone, this is my father, Eberhard Douglas.”
“Delighted.” “Eberhard” offered a very correct bow. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your visit to our community.”
A murmur of assent ran through the crowd. They all appeared drawn into the moment.
“We’ve been talking,” Jamie explained. “An opinion has been expressed that the new electric ceiling fans might be best in the depot, to keep up with modern times. After all, it is 1895. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we’re backward in Glimmer Creek.”
“Nonsense,” her pretend father snorted. “And I certainly hope you haven’t brought up any of the suffrage tomfoolery that your aunt holds to. Women shouldn’t vote. It isn’t natural.”
“Whatever you say, Papa.” Jamie sounded demure and obedient, but chuckles rippled through the waiting room.
She was good. She pulled her audience right in and got them to play along. Even without saying anything overt, she made everyone believe that she harbored different opinions from her father. It was easy to picture her character sneaking off to suffrage rallies and handing out ribbons without her father’s knowledge.
Jamie was talented, and Gabe remembered Lance’s questions about being able to support a wife if he enlisted. At their age, would they know what they were getting into, or was Lance just thinking about possibilities for the future?
“Come along, Isabelle,” urged Jamie’s pretend father. “The stationmaster has placed your bag in my carriage, and your mother needs help. I do believe she’s invited half the town to tea.”
Jamie said goodbye and took his arm. En masse, the crowd followed to watch as Eberhard helped her into an elegant carriage being drawn by two black horses.
It was a highly polished performance. Jamie put up a parasol and waved to the waiting “passengers” as her father slapped the reins. Gabe knew she’d return in a couple of hours and they’d repeat the routine. In the meantime they were going to the Douglas House, where high tea would be served to guests who’d bought tickets for the event.
It was quite a production, and people seemed to eat it up. Finally he accessed the front staircase to Tessa’s office and walked upstairs to knock on her door.
“Come in,” she called.
Gabe stepped inside. “Hello, darling. I’m so glad to see you.”
Tessa gave him a dark look. “Don’t even think it.”
“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me.”
Her face was pale, as if she hadn’t slept well.
“Actually, I didn’t kiss you,” she said. “I just pretended to kiss you because I thought someone might be watching. You’re the one who took it further. And may I add, the idea that someone was watching wouldn’t have occurred to me if you hadn’t spied on us in the first place.”
He couldn’t deny the spying part; he had spied on Tessa and Liam. True, he’d felt qualms about doing it and intended to return his paychecks at the right opportunity, but he’d done what he thought was necessary.
“Anyway,” Tessa continued, “you gave me the idea about a fake kiss when you brought flowers. I’m just glad you didn’t pick poppies. That’s illegal, you know.”
Gabe turned one of the chairs around by her desk and sat, straddling it. The act was deliberate since Tessa had suggested he was too stiff to fit into the relaxed atmosphere of Glimmer Creek. “I remember a grammar school teacher saying that, but I don’t understand why. Unless it’s because of their opium content.”
“Opium poppies are different from California poppies.” Tessa seemed to reflect on the idea. “Actually, I think picking them is only illegal on state or public property. Maybe because they’re the California state flower.”
“That makes more sense.” Regardless, it was time to get this conversation back on track. He rested his arms on the chair. “Apparently we’re pretending to be lovers during the investigation.”
Tessa had been typing something into her computer. She backspaced and typed something else before looking at him again. “I’ve thought about that, and I don’t think anyone would believe we’re involved.”
“Why not? Opposites attract, and we need a cover story to explain why we’re spending time together. Besides, it fits in with something your great-uncle said.”
Tessa stared. “What?”
“He mentioned that people might wonder if we were involved after seeing us in the park. Not that it seems like a bad idea to have a cover story for meeting together.” A wicked idea to tease Tessa occurred to Gabe. “It’s too bad there isn’t a costume ball coming up at Poppy Gold. We could go as Antony and Cleopatra.”
“You would pick two lovers who came to a tragic end.”
“I suppose you’d prefer going as Prince Charming and Cinderella.”
“I don’t prefer anything when it comes to you,” she snapped. “But if I had a costume suggestion, it would be Ebenezer Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Future. Dickens’s description of Ebenezer is perfect for you. Let’s see...hard and sharp as flint. Secret and self-contained. Solitary as an oyster. Sound familiar?”
Gabe shifted uncomfortably, though it was an accurate portrayal. “I guess a costume ball wouldn’t be the best idea, after all.”
“That’s probably the first thing we’ve agreed upon.” She stopped and sighed. “Sorry, I’m not in the best mood. I keep worrying if all my business clients are at risk, not just Rob.”
“It seems unlikely, especially if someone went to so much trouble getting TIP to come here.”
“But there are no guarantees. Luckily we don’t have any business conferences coming here in the next few weeks. It’s mostly weddings and reunions, along with our usual vacationing tourists. So we have to find the answer quickly.”
The urgency Gabe had been feeling swept through him with renewed intensity. It was the best explanation for his lack of restraint with Tessa. The previous night he’d wanted to keep kissing her until it led to something more. It didn’t matter that she would have stopped him before it got that far; he should have kept a better lid on his response.
“Did you check the housekeeping schedules for the other times TIP has visited?” he asked.
“I loaded everything into a database and ran a comparison, but I didn’t find any patterns. If I get a list of the times Rob believes a leak occurred, I’ll check again. I’ve also looked for patterns with other businesses that have had conferences here, but nothing stands out. No employees have consistently worked at a house where clients were staying more than any other.”
“Nothing has happened with TIP’s latest visit, other than the collapsing staircase,” Gabe mused. “If the culprit pinned their hopes on getting back at Rob that way and it failed, they may be afraid to try something else in case suspicions were raised.”
Tessa smiled faintly. “Uncle Milt was at Poppy Gold all day Tuesday after the accident, questioning people. That probably would have scared anyone off. Has Rob observed anything suspicious at the Tofton House?”
“No. I gave him two high-tech video cams to catch anyone going in and out of the room or hanging around the desk—very small and hard to detect—but Rob didn’t see anything unusual in the recordings from yesterday. He brought old documents with him, nothing confidential, and spread them out on the desk in his suite. The housekeeping staff did their thing, but nothing appeared suspicious.”
Tessa looked at him grimly. “You didn’t tell Great-Uncle Milt about the camera, and don’t tell me it slipped your mind. You aren’t the Lone Ranger on this investigation any longer. There’s a much better chance of catching the thief and getting a conviction if all the legalities are observed.”
“Glimmer Creek doesn’t have the resources for a major investigation or for the high-tech gadgetry we might need.”
She made a derisive sound. “Poppy Gold will pay for anything that’s needed, high or low tech. But why don’t you admit the real problem...that you don’t think an aging police chief from a small town can be of any real help? You think you ought to be able to handle it yourself.”
Gabe heaved a deep sigh.
Maybe he was guilty of playing Lone Ranger...of wanting to be the hero for his brother. There were too many things in the world that couldn’t be fixed, but this situation shouldn’t be one of them.
“Were you planning a little primitive justice for the guilty party and can’t now with Uncle Milt involved?” Tessa continued, and he narrowed his eyes.
“I always planned to give any evidence to the authorities,” he said crisply. “Don’t forget we tried to get the FBI to investigate before we ever started this, though I don’t blame them for being skeptical about our claims. For that matter, the only reason Milt Fullerton is taking it seriously is because of your accident on the staircase.”
“Did you tell the FBI that you’d ruled out hacking?”
“Of course. But Rob doubted it could be that from the start. His IT security team would have immediately notified him of any attacks on the company’s firewall. Nevertheless, to rule out an internal breech, he simply disconnected the information from any hackable source.”
“What about the cameras you set up? Are you going to review the recordings yourself?”
“Rob is going to hand them off to me before he leaves tomorrow. He’ll call later tonight if he sees anything from the ones today.”
Tessa shook her head. “Another casual meeting? He’d better give them to me. There’s nothing unusual about the Poppy Gold manager talking to guests, and I can get everything to my great-uncle without it looking suspicious.”
Gabe supposed he’d better get used to things going through Milt Fullerton.
“What about the people who were supposed to stay at the El Dorado Mansion Monday night?”
“I checked, and they made the reservations after the earthquake, specifically asking for the El Dorado. It couldn’t have sounded suspicious at the time. Groups often ask to stay together in a particular house, and since so many of the weekend guests leave on Sunday, the house was available. I already let Uncle Milt know.” Tessa gestured to her computer. “I’ve also been looking at the calendar. I’ll do whatever I can to get enough rooms for TIP to come back in June.”
The phone rang, and Gabe watched Tessa’s face as she dealt with an inquiry from someone wanting to book an autumn class reunion at Poppy Gold. She searched three possible dates before finding enough available rooms.
He wished she wasn’t so determined to get involved in the investigation. It would be best for him to coordinate with Milt Fullerton and keep her on the periphery, but she clearly wasn’t going to cooperate.
Besides, something about Tessa got to him. She was intelligent, beautiful, sexy and her personality was a force of nature. And while it might be misplaced, her loyalty was admirable. Her relatives could easily be taking advantage, but she was more likely to suspect the Easter Bunny than any of them.
“Sorry,” Tessa said after her call ended.
“That’s okay. Shall I come over tonight? We have more to discuss, and we can have Milt conference in.”
“Sorry, there’s a wedding and reception booked for this evening. I need to be on hand for it.”
“Have you ever heard of delegating?”
“Have you ever heard of minding your own business?”
Gabe got up. “While I’d love to stay and debate the question with you, my lunch break is almost over. I need to get back to my weeding and lawn mowing.”
* * *
TESSA CLENCHED HER JAW, wanting to throw something at the door after Gabe had closed it behind him. Her work habits weren’t any of his business.
On the other hand, it might be wise to get extra rest. She also needed to call her grandfather and didn’t want to do it where there was any chance of being overheard or interrupted.
Back at her apartment in the Victorian Cat, she dialed Patrick Connor’s private line.
“Hey, Granddad.”
“Tessa. How wonderful to hear your voice. I just got out of a meeting.”
“Ouch.” Tessa remembered the Connor Enterprises executive meetings. They were deadly dull. “In that case, I wish I was calling for a better reason.”
“Oh?”
Quickly she explained what she’d learned from both Gabe and Rob and that the situation may have escalated into violence.
“Liam told me you fell, but I didn’t realize it was something like this,” Patrick exclaimed.
“Pop doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to know unless absolutely necessary. You know what a worrywart he can be.”
“Yes. I’m glad Milt Fullerton is on the case.”
Tessa made a face. “I’m sure Gabe wishes Uncle Milt was a young, aggressive FBI agent, but apparently the FBI wouldn’t get involved because of the lack of evidence. Uncle Milt will be great, and he’ll be sure to keep the investigation confidential. Oh, and in case Pop says anything to you or Grams, Gabe and I are pretending to date. It’s a cover to explain any time we spend together.”
“I understand. Promise you’ll be careful,” Granddad urged.
“Of course. But Uncle Milt is very protective, and Gabe is a retired navy SEAL, so I’ll be fine. One Connor worrywart is enough, and Pop has dibs.”
“I’m glad this McKinley fellow is capable. What can I do to help?”
Glad about Gabe? Tessa wasn’t so sure, but she had a great deal of faith in the US Navy to train an effective SEAL. According to their reputation, SEALs were able to do anything.
“I wanted to find out if anyone has attempted to pass insider information to Connor Enterprises. At any level. I know it’s SOP to refer anything like that to the security staff.”
“I haven’t received anything myself, but I’ll check with my security chief and let you know.”
“Thanks. How is Grams?”
“Busy as always. She wants a rooftop garden. I refused, so naturally we have landscape architects submitting proposals. We’re leaning toward one with a water feature.”
Tessa smiled. While Granddad was radically different from his son, he and Liam shared at least one trait—unshakable devotion to the women in their lives.
After they talked for another few minutes, Tessa sent her love to her grandmother and got off. She’d hoped Granddad would have more information, but it still had been a relief to tell someone else what was happening.
Gabe would likely go ballistic, but she trusted Patrick Connor and didn’t need permission to enlist his help.