A week had passed since Adam left the inn, and he hadn’t run into Molly at all. In fact, he’d hung around the lake house so much he was going stir-crazy. He took in the sleek cottage. It was a new contemporary, two stories full of glass panes and lake views. It had clean lines, neutral décor, and a lot of stainless steel. It was beautiful and sleek, much like his flat in the city. But it made him long for old glass doorknobs, squeaky wood floors, and the sweet scent of baking muffins.
He tried to stay busy. When he wasn’t working on his outline, he looked for Benjamin Schwartz. Giving Molly the closure she needed had become his number one goal.
He’d taken the long list of living Benjamin Schwartzes that his mother had given him and pared it down to twelve possibilities, and phone calls had already ruled out more than half. The next number had a Tennessee area code.
Adam pulled out his phone and tapped the numbers. It was dinnertime, a good time to catch people at home.
The phone rang and rang. He was ready to hang up when a woman answered. “Village Life, Marion speaking, may I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Adam Bradford, and I’m looking for a Benjamin Schwartz.”
“One moment, please.”
The line went silent. Did that mean a Benjamin was there or was she just redirecting his call to an operator? The phone began ringing in his ear. She was only redirecting. Disappointment swamped him. The other numbers had been dead ends. No Benjamin Schwartz at all or the wrong one.
“Hello?” An older gentleman’s voice sounded on the other end of the line.
“Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me if there’s a Benjamin Schwartz living in your community.”
“This is he.” His voice was gruff and a little loud.
Adam blinked and raised his voice in case the man was hard of hearing. “Oh, hello. This might sound a little strange, but I’m looking for a Benjamin Schwartz who spent time in Bluebell, North Carolina, during the summer of ’64.”
There was a long beat of silence, and Adam feared the man had hung up. “Hello? Are you still there, Mr. Schwartz?”
“What is this regarding exactly?” He sounded cautious.
Who could blame him? But he hadn’t instantly denied being the man in question, as the others had.
Adam got to his feet and began pacing the open living room. “It’s a long story, sir. A friend of mine found a lost letter at an inn here—used to be the old post office. We’ve been trying to reach the intended recipient of that letter for a couple months now.”
“What kind of letter?”
“A personal letter. They found it behind a wall during renovations. It was where the mail slot used to be. Obviously the letter never made it out of the post office.”
“What—who was this letter from?”
“A Lizzie Van Buren.” Adam paused, letting that sink in a moment. “Are you the man we’re looking for, Mr. Schwartz?”
“Lizzie Van Buren . . .”
Adam thought he detected a wistful note in the man’s voice, but maybe he was only trying to jog his memory. For all he knew Mr. Schwartz had dementia and couldn’t even remember where he’d spent last Christmas, much less the summer of ’64.
“Mr. Schwartz, are you still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. You’ve caught me off guard. I haven’t heard that name in years.” Mr. Schwartz’s voice was thick with emotion.
Adam’s breath escaped. “It’s you then. You were here at Bluebell Lake.”
“Best summer of my life. And the worst. Funny how those two things can both be true.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to have finally located you. My friend will be so excited. We’ve been trying to find you all summer.”
“Have you opened the letter?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, but we did. It was so old, and we had no idea it would be so personal.”
“It’s all right. What does—” Mr. Schwartz began, then stopped. “I’m not sure I even want to know what it says. This is all quite a shock. All this time I’d thought—”
Adam suddenly wondered if the man was aware Lizzie passed away years ago. And he suddenly feared having to be the one to tell him. He didn’t want to deliver upsetting news over the phone. He should’ve thought this through.
“She’s gone now, you know,” Mr. Schwartz said. “Lizzie.”
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, we found that out early in our search. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“A friend of mine reached out after he’d heard. I was sorry to hear it. She was a lively girl, and a delightful young woman. Gone much too soon.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure my friend would love the chance to speak with you if you’re willing.”
“She’s from Bluebell, you say?”
Adam stopped pacing and stared sightlessly out at the lake. His heart was trying to explode from his chest. “Yes, sir. She owns the inn where the letter was found.”
“Not so far from here then. Maybe she could come visit me. I’m afraid my health doesn’t allow me to travel very far anymore.”
“I’ll certainly pass along the invitation to her. I hope my call hasn’t upset you, Mr. Schwartz. I’m sure it has dredged up all kinds of memories.”
“Mostly wonderful ones. I guess this ticker of mine can still handle a shock or two after all.”
Adam gave Benjamin his phone number and wound up the conversation, telling him Molly would get in touch with him soon.
Then he went to find Molly.
* * *
Molly swiped the back porch with the stream of water from the garden hose, clearing off the dirt and debris. The storm last night had left leaves and twigs all over the backyard.
She’d been keeping busy since Adam had checked out. When she wasn’t working she found herself in the kitchen helping Miss Della or outside doing odds and ends.
Adam hadn’t said anything about hearing from his mother or continuing their search for Benjamin. And his last words to her had seemed pretty final. She assumed he was finished helping with their little project.
Maybe she should be too. But the letter lying upstairs in her nightstand drawer just wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d done a bit of computer research in her free time, but there were so many hits for “Benjamin Schwartz” that she always ended up dizzy with options and unable to decide where to go next.
Maybe she’d scrape together enough money to hire a professional investigator as Adam’s mom had suggested.
“Molly?”
She jumped a mile, letting loose of the trigger. Water splattered over her bare legs. She palmed her chest, her heart recovering.
Adam approached from the back door, holding up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Grace said you were out here.”
What could he want? Maybe he needed a place to stay for a night or two. She could do this. Be professional. Be hospitable.
“No problem.” She gave him a polite smile. “What can I do for you, Adam?”
He took a few steps closer, his eyes clear blue in the evening shade. She’d missed those eyes. Those faded denim eyes. And as he grew nearer she caught a whiff of his familiar scent. He poked his glasses into place. She’d missed that nervous habit too. That shy, unassuming way of his.
Do not get sucked back in. Do. Not.
“With the way we left things,” Adam said, “we didn’t really talk about pressing forward with your project. But I’ve continued this week.” His eyes sparkled with excitement as he held up a sticky note. “And I found him, Molly. I found Benjamin.”
She blinked. Reached out for the note. A phone number was scrawled on the paper. “You found him? Are you sure?”
“I just spoke with him. I hope you don’t mind that I talked to him, but I had quite a few numbers, and I just kept calling them until . . . I found him.”
The paper in Molly’s fingers trembled. “What did he say? What did you say? Where does he live? Oh no, does he know about Lizzie? That she’s already gone?”
His smile was a little sad. “Yes, he already knew. I was worried about that too. He’s living in Knoxville at a retirement home. He was curious about the letter. I think he was also a little afraid to know what it said. Just talking about her seemed to awaken a lot of memories.”
“I can only imagine.” Molly stared at the number as if it might make more information appear. “I can hardly believe it. I have so many questions for him.”
“He’s expecting your call. He’d like for you to go see him if possible.”
“You bet it’s possible. I could go Thursday—though I can barely stand the thought of waiting three more days. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you want to go?”
His mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed. “I—didn’t think you’d want me to. And that’s fine, Molly. I get it.”
“You should come—if you want to. If you have the time. I know you’re on a deadline though.”
He scratched his neck. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind having me along?”
Despite the way he’d deceived her, Adam had put even more time into this than she had. She didn’t feel right excluding him at this point.
“We should see this through together,” she said.
He gave her a smile that warmed her from the inside out. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”