Thursday
“SO CIARA FINALLY had a ride in your car?” Landon lounged sideways in one of Anna’s recliners, back against one armrest and legs draped over the other. She let her cheek rest against the plush teal upholstery. Between yesterday’s high emotion and today’s pop quiz in class, she had nothing left.
Bobby sat at Anna’s desk, tapping keys and doing an update to the inn website. Anna had insisted it wasn’t a rush job, but of course he’d arrived the same day she called. He swivelled the desk chair toward Landon. “It’s not a long drive to her place but yeah, I think she liked it. She’s glad to have her own wheels again, though.”
Ciara had texted her at school to say she’d scored an opening at the spa this afternoon. Something about needing both a pampering and the courage to apologize to Tait.
The entrance chime sounded. Landon jumped up. “That’ll be our guest at long last.”
When Zander dropped Landon off before his meeting with Ken and Kimi, Anna had deputized her for welcome duty and dashed out for groceries. Landon scooped the pewter lighthouse key ring from the coffee table and hurried along the hall to the front door.
“Welcome to the Green Dory Inn. You must be Jessica.”
About Landon’s age, the slight newcomer wrestled an enormous red suitcase over the threshold. A matching carry-on leaned against the wall. She stared at Landon with a deer-in-headlights look, lips parted and cheeks drawn in. One hand flew to her light-brown pixie cut.
Landon offered a welcoming smile. “Did you have a rough trip?”
“Oh—no—well, two hours late landing, but—” Her mouth snapped shut.
But…? “If you’ve changed your mind about staying after the break-in we had, I can find you another spot. We understand.”
The girl drew herself as tall as possible, shoulders back, jaw firm. “This is the most convenient place. I’m here to visit my boyfriend. Robert J. Hawke, the author? Your temporary neighbour.”
“Oh.” Landon felt her eyebrows crawling up.
Jessica. Jessie.
Bobby was in the sitting room.
Landon grasped the suitcase handle. “I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up before you see him, so let’s get you settled. I’ll save the downstairs tour for later.” Without waiting for an answer, she lugged the heavy case toward the stairs.
“I can carry it myself, really.” Jessie’s footsteps followed.
On the second floor, Landon heaved the case onto its wheels and steered it toward the Lighthouse Room. She opened the door, then passed the keys to Jessie. “This one’s for your room, and the other’s for the front door. We lock it after ten or if we go out ourselves. The Wi-Fi code is on a card on the night table.”
The minute Jessie’s door shut, Landon fled downstairs and through the hallway. She burst into the sitting room and hissed Bobby’s name, a finger to her lips.
He looked up with a start.
“Shh—Jessie’s here. Your Jessie. Upstairs.”
He went statue-stiff except for his eyes, which pinched shut. When they opened, he shook himself. “You didn’t tell her I’m here.”
“No. Prepare to act surprised when she shows up at your door. Her room’s in front. You’re safe to sneak out the back.”
He hit a few more buttons on the keyboard. “I’ll have to end there for now.”
In the middle of the room, he stopped. “How do you know it’s her?”
“She’s here to visit Robert J. Hawke. Know him? He’s her boyfriend.”
“He is not—I mean, I’m not.” Both hands scrubbed through his hair. “She said that?”
“Could she have misunderstood?”
“I made it painfully clear.” He let out a low groan. “I don’t need this.” His cheeks had gone a splotchy pink, and he didn’t seem to realize he was shaking his head.
“We could pretend we’re a couple to convince her it’s over.”
A shuddery breath rocked his frame, and the exhale seemed to drain him. Gaze resolute in a suddenly hollowed face, he reset his shoulders. Now when he shook his head, it was a deliberate movement. “I’m yours if you ever want me for real, but faking would kill me.”
She fought for air. “But I remind you of—”
“She who will not be named?” An odd smile erased the strain from his features, softening his jawline and lighting his eyes. “Not anymore. The more I look at you, the less I see her. Even in other things. Gramp was watching football last weekend, and I walked past when the cheerleaders were on the field. Didn’t even notice I hadn’t reacted until it cut to a commercial.”
“Does he know?”
Bobby shuddered. “No! He just thinks I hate football. Which I sort of do. Look, what I said—you deserve the truth. But please don’t let this ruin our friendship. We make a good team.”
Without waiting for an answer, he peeked into the hallway and then dashed for the exit.
Landon followed him outside on autopilot. She reached the deck to see him disappear toward home along the path through the trees.
The marmalade stray strolled from behind the barn. He stared at her, crooked tail high, then walked with a swaying precision into Anna’s flower garden. He dropped among the blue and white pansies and rolled on his back in the dirt. Still skinny and ragged, he wasn’t the skeletal creature he’d been in July.
Landon snorted. “You’re pushing your luck, Mister.”
In the three months she’d known him, Bobby had been so kind to strays and wounded warriors. But today… this was more. She’d believed no decent man would ever want her, not with the horror in her past. His words warmed her, elevated her. She felt it in her spirit, her very core, even in her frame—a lifting as if freed from gravity.
In the garden, the cat stretched long, belly up to the sun.
Landon wanted to stretch too. To luxuriate in the experience. Instead, she had to send Jessie off to certain disappointment. From the little Bobby had said, the girl was not a good fit for him, nor he for her, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.
She glanced toward the path. What she felt now… gratitude, deep affection. Hero worship, maybe. It wasn’t the romantic love Bobby needed. Somehow she’d have to make sure he didn’t misinterpret her affection. He deserved someone with less baggage anyway. But if she’d helped him get over the deep wounds from the toxic cheerleader-valedictorian high school nemesis in his past, then she’d given him something worth keeping too.
Back inside, she collected his half-full coffee cup from Anna’s desk and poured the dark liquid down the kitchen sink. She was toying with the puzzle in the common room when Jessie’s shoes rapped on the stairs.
Makeup refreshed, Jessie wore a snug plum top and curvy black jeans. A silver star swung on a thin chain at her throat. She brushed it with a fingertip. “Bobby gave me this, but he’s so hopeless he won’t recognize it.”
“It’s lovely.” Standing in the doorway, Landon spread an arm toward the space behind her. “I’ll give you the two-second tour before you go. This room is open to all guests, and you’re free to browse the books or add to the puzzle.” She stepped across the hall. “Breakfast will be in here between seven and nine, and the fixings for coffee and tea are available all the time. Anna often has a baked snack or two as well.”
Jessie spared a glance for the yellow-clothed square tables. “Thank you. Am I the only one staying?”
“No, next to you upstairs is Ciara, who’s about our age. Zander has the room across from you, and I’m in the fourth one. I’m sort of a cross between long-term guest and helper.”
“I see.” Jessie’s plum-glossed lips pinched. “You must be the one who nearly got Bobby killed. He mentioned Anna having adult children. From his story, I assumed her friend was from her own era.”
“We rescued one another.” They did make a good team. And Landon would not inform fifty-six-year-old Anna that Jessie considered her to have an era.
“Well, don’t presume anything from that. He’s taken.”
Zander’s SUV purring along the driveway made a welcome end to the conversation.
Jessie dredged her rental key from the depths of her glossy shoulder bag and stepped past Landon to the door. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk, but not in these heels.”
Landon pushed the door shut behind her and rested her forehead against the cool metal before heading for the rear of the inn. She was halfway along the ivory-painted hallway when Zander opened the screen door from the deck. In mild weather and in the summer, Anna left the inner door open during the day.
“Any luck, Zander?”
“Not with the former boss, but I do have other information.”
“Let’s talk in the kitchen. I’m waiting to help Anna with the groceries.”
“Pretty girl who just left. The new guest or a friend of yours?”
“Guest. Bobby’s ex. It could get messy here tonight.”
Zander’s gaze drilled into her. “You’re not falling for him, I hope.”
She let the pause linger long enough to torment him, but not for him to speak. Then she pressed her palm to her heart. “He’s not for me. Not that way. But you can bet Jessie sees me as the competition.”
In the kitchen, Landon poured herself a glass of water. She grasped the white frame of the nearest chair and drew it out for a seat. He’d talk when he was ready.
He sat across from her and folded his hands on the table. A hum of satisfaction vibrated his lips. “Phil Kirkwood. Two things.”
She sipped her water, waiting.
Zander nodded approval. “One—his wife, Whitney, hasn’t been seen outside of the home in some time. I’ve had hints of health issues and perhaps expenses relating to them. Two—one of the recently stolen local collectibles was found in his office this morning, courtesy of an anonymous tip.”
“Ciara’s bracelet?” She’d be ecstatic to have it back.
“The eighteenth-century cameo.” He tapped a forefinger against his knuckles. “He’s resisting the police request to search his house—I expect because of his wife rather than guilt. Although who knows?”
That was the brooch whose owner Orran had accused of inviting a theft. Maybe they’d be wiser now.
Landon rotated her glass a half-turn on the pine tabletop. “He’s quite protective of his wife, and she did seem frail when I met her.”
“Or it could be a strategic move—plant one thing on himself for the sole purpose of deflecting suspicion. You saw no bare spots in the home where objets d’art might have been removed for sale?”
“Their house is like a museum.”
“Which means if he does need cash he’s not selling visible assets.”
“But he’s been paying for Ciara’s private hospital room and trying to throw money at her to leave town.”
Zander’s squint deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes. “Inconclusive, I know. I’ll see what I can glean from my police contacts once they’ve squeezed him a bit.”
“Ciara’d like it to be Phil.” Better the stepfather she fought with than the former boss she admired.
A car engine outside drew Landon to the window. “Anna’s home. You said the leads Meaghan gave you didn’t help. Anything else?”
He stood. “I put a few feelers out about Tait. He came back clean.”
Good to have that confirmed.
Shaun was another unknown. Anna said he’d been in to visit Ciara last evening while the rest of them were out with Tait. If he kept up his nightly visits, there might be a chance for one or two well-placed questions.
~~~
“Ooh, chocolate gelato. Is this for tonight?” Landon removed the tub from the bag and nestled it into the freezer.
Anna passed her another tub—raspberry. “The mood around here needs a bit of a lift.”
“More than you know.” At Anna’s indrawn breath, Landon told her about Jessie. Not to gossip, but to prepare her. “Did Bobby tell you he broke up with her when he and Roy did the road trip over Labour Day?”
Zander snickered. “Anna, are you running an inn or a college dorm? Drama, drama, everywhere.”
“I’ll take old-fashioned angst over murder any day.”
Landon draped an arm around Anna’s shoulders and squeezed.
They’d almost finished unpacking when Ciara arrived, glowing but quiet. “The spa felt so good. Then Tait let me have a little visit with Moxie.” Her glossy lips formed a pout. “I wish I could go home, but Tait’s still waiting on my security system order. I can’t rush the poor man. Not now.”
Zander’s arms locked across his chest. “We need to solve this so you’ll be safe.”
“Yes, please.” She covered a yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap before dinner. My head’s still wonky.”
A couple of hours later, Shaun’s motorcycle growled into the inn lot as they were polishing off the gelato.
Anna stood from the table. “Ciara, since we don’t know when our other guest will be back, could you stay downstairs? Shaun’s music isn’t loud, but she may not be in the best space.”
They hadn’t told Ciara Jessie’s connection with Bobby. Nor, for that matter, that Bobby was single.
When Ciara scooted off to let Shaun in the front door, Landon rose. “I’ll see if I can join in. Maybe I can get him talking.”
Zander snorted. “Good luck. He doesn’t respond well to me.”
A bad-boy rebel type not getting along with an intense authority type? Zander’s counselling skills had gone out the window when he turned investigator. Landon kept her amusement to herself. “I know you’ll be around if he tries anything.”
Once the kitchen was cleaned up, Landon carried a plate of Anna’s chocolate chip cookies and two tall glasses of water into the common room. Shaun perched at the edge of the club chair, knees wide to support his guitar. Ciara lounged in one of the oak-armed fabric chairs, her russet sweater a striking contrast to the mint upholstery behind her head.
Placing the tray on the table next to the puzzle frame, Landon listened as Shaun’s fingers wandered over the guitar strings in a steady, soothing stream. “That’s nice. Especially after the week we’ve had.”
“Week?” Ciara extended her fingers one by one as if counting. “I make it ten days. Not including today. Today’s been good.”
Without looking up, Shaun muttered, “It’s not over yet.”
Taking his pessimism as an excuse to stay and join the conversation, Landon dropped into the chair beside Ciara. “What do you mean? The day or the trouble?”
He swiped strands of black hair from his forehead with his leather wristband. “Just how life goes.”
Ciara took a glass from the tray and set it on the floor beside him, then positioned one of the hard-backed chairs in the space between them to hold the cookie plate. The other glass in hand, she eased into her chair.
Was Shaun lying low from trouble at the campground? Could that be why he stayed?
Landon was trying to form a polite way to ask when the front door opened. The chimes overpowered the guitar, their gentle notes jarring tonight because it had to be Jessie. Nobody else was expected.
A quick staccato of heels ended with a stomp. Jessie stood in the doorway, oversized purse clutched under one arm like a bagpipe, her cheeks blotched and her eyelids puffy.
“You” —one index finger jabbed the air, punctuating the word— “stole my boyfriend.”
Landon wished she could vanish under the chair cushion.
Ciara whistled, long and low. “Are you Bobby’s girl from away? Or I guess ex-girl from away?”
Jessie whirled on her, free hand fisting on her hip. “Who are you?”
“I’m the one who actually contemplated trying for him. Landon always respected he was taken.” Ciara tossed a brittle laugh. “You’re better off without him. Bobby’s married to his books. And maybe to his car. You’d be third place.”
“Huh.” Jessie’s glare swung to Landon. “He won’t be what you want either.”
“We’re not a couple.” Spine pressed into the seat back, Landon kept her head high. “But Bobby’s been part of every worst moment I’ve experienced here. That should have sent him running in the opposite direction. Instead, he always finds time for Anna and me. He’s a gentleman. And a hero.”
His fictional Travers would be proud.
Jessie’s lips trembled, but she fought them under control.
Ciara flipped a languid wave. “Honey, I’ve been there, and I’m sorry for you. Go on home and find another man. But don’t settle. And if a guy seems too good to be true, he probably is.” She cut a glance at Shaun. “No offence.”
He plucked his water glass from the floor, fingers at the rim, and raised it in a dangling salute. “None taken. Too bad to be true, at your service. Temporarily reformed.”
Jessie fled. Her steps hammered the stairs and across the floor above. A door slammed.
“Well, that was awkward.” Ciara’s smirk dismissed Jessie’s pain. “I guess you got him after all.”
“He’s not a collector figure!” Landon drove her fingernails against the armrests’ wooden undersides. “And not everyone wants a relationship.”
“Oh. What you said about… yeah.” Ciara scrubbed her palms on her lap, then reached for the cookie plate. She held it out to Shaun. “So… too bad to be true? Do tell.”
He winked. “Not true means nothing to tell.”
“Then why reform?”
He snatched a cookie as she started to withdraw the plate. “Dude throws some girl over a cliff and casts me in the role of good guy.”
Ciara sniffed. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”
When he finished chewing, he brushed cookie crumbs from his hands and resumed his wandering melody. “We all have stories.” Head tipped low, he focused on the guitar strings, fingerpicking a complicated sequence. Then he peered up through heavy black bangs. “I should’ve moved on by now, but I need to know you’ll be okay. We’re strangers. It shouldn’t matter.”
“Thank you. For saving me and for staying. Someone here hates me, and I feel like being a stranger makes you safe.”
Odd logic, but it made sense in this context. Ciara and Shaun had no history. Unless he was working for someone—like her ex on the West Coast.
Landon was supposed to be asking questions. “California to Nova Scotia on a motorcycle. Why’d you choose here?”
“Choose?” His fingertips rapped a quick percussion on the front of the instrument. “More like something snapped. Or they started mixing the sound wrong. I didn’t care anymore, so I took off. Then one day, the road spit me out on Prince Edward Island, at one of my exes’.”
A wicked grin lit his features before morphing into an almost wistful nostalgia. “She was every bit as crazy as the rest of us. Now she’s living on a hobby farm. Husband and a kid. Cows. Herbal remedies and goat soap. She’s happy.” Another riff of the strings. “Husband’s a pastor, of all things. I stayed a few days, but it was creepy. She gave me this guitar and the backpack case for the road. Said to listen to the music.”
Landon tapped her foot. “What music?”
“That’s what I said. ‘Whatever comes out,’ she said.” His fingers stilled. “So far, this is all I’ve got. I can’t go home until I get my head in the game, but I should at least cross into Maine.”
Where did a young guy like this get the money for such a long trip—with extra to splurge on fixing Ciara’s overpriced bracelet? And with no apparent deadline to be back on the job. Landon’s instinct was to trust him, that whatever his story was it didn’t involve harming Ciara. But she’d trusted Gord too.