Present Day
Adam grabbed a pair of khakis off the hook behind his door and folded them neatly. He hadn’t bothered unpacking for his short stay at the inn, but the clothes he’d worn since his arrival were scattered around the room.
He’d attended church this morning at a little chapel in town. It was like stepping back in time to the days of pews and choir lofts and organs. The stained glass was beautiful, though, and the preaching was solid. The people were probably friendly, too, but he slipped in after the service began and out before the last “amen” had finished echoing through the sanctuary.
He’d had a couple productive days scouting out the area. His mom had been right. It was the perfect place to set one of his stories. He’d been busy capturing the sights and sounds and smells in his trusty little notebook.
This was the easy part—the factual part. All he had to do was take in the town with all his senses. Breathe in the smell of pine and fresh-cut grass. Listen to the distant purr of a boat engine and the slap of a flag whipping in the wind.
The local gathering place seemed to be a coffee shop, set up in an old fire station. The parking lot was always full, and they kept the garage doors open, the crowd spilling out onto the paved patio.
The history part came next. He needed to ask Molly if he might avail himself of her library after he left the inn. Bonus: it’d give him a chance to continue seeing her. Strictly as his muse, of course. He’d never had one before, so he wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. He only knew that the more he learned about her the more he wanted to write her as his protagonist.
He tucked a folded shirt inside his suitcase. He’d found a lake house that was available this week. Unfortunately their weekends were mostly booked. That seemed to be the case with most of the rentals. So instead of getting comfortable in one home for the summer’s duration, it looked as though he’d be drifting from one place to the next. Not exactly ideal.
A knock sounded at his door, and his heart stuttered at the thought of possibly seeing Molly again. Or maybe it was her brother, whom he’d also seen a couple times in passing.
He swung open the door to find his visitor was the former. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders today, her smile bright, bringing her dimple into play.
“Hi, Adam. Sorry to bother you, but I was just . . .” Her eyes swept past him, and when they returned to his face the sparkle dimmed, as did her smile. “You’re leaving.”
“Yes, I . . .” He was momentarily at a loss for words. She looked so disheartened, and that was the last thing he wanted. “I found a house that’s available now that the holiday weekend is almost over. Their guests had to leave early. It worked out.”
She blinked. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
He’d thought it was understood he’d get out of her hair as soon as possible. “I didn’t want to get you and your family in trouble with the authorities. You’ve been very generous in letting me stay.”
She seemed to recover, her smile back in place. “Not at all. So you found a place for the summer?”
“Well . . . no, not exactly. They have guests arriving Friday, so it looks as though I’ll be moving around a bit.”
She shelved her hands on her slim hips. “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun. You could just stay here, you know. We’re not sold out a single weekend, so you’d have a room for the entire summer.”
She hadn’t mentioned that before. But then, he hadn’t been giving the inn serious consideration for the long-term. “What about the permit?”
“That’s what I came up to talk to you about. We’re ready to open. The inspector will be here Tuesday. I was going to ask if you could maybe clear out your things just for the day . . .”
“Oh.” He shifted, his palm sweaty on the glass doorknob. He waffled. It was tempting to stay under the same roof as his muse the entire summer. So tempting. It could even make the difference between success and failure where his writing was concerned.
“We’d love to have you.” Her beaming smile dimmed a few watts. “But I understand if you’d rather have a full house to yourself. Inns aren’t for everyone. Especially old ones.”
The dim light from the hallway gave her skin a golden glow and darkened her eyes to caramel brown. “You’ve been very welcoming, and you have a beautiful face—I mean, place. You have a beautiful place.”
Why did he have to be such an imbecile with women? Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he fought the urge to cover his own face. Or better yet, shut the door and hide. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his clumsy gaffe.
“I don’t want to pressure you, obviously,” Molly continued, “but please know you’re welcome here. Full service will begin immediately once we have the permit . . . cleaning and a continental breakfast and extra amenities you won’t find at a rental. If you think my muffins are good, wait till you taste Miss Della’s. And frankly, you’d be doing us a favor, as we want to keep our rooms filled. Weekends are one thing, but weekdays are harder to fill up around here.”
Well, when she put it like that. “I’m certainly open to the idea of staying. I just didn’t want to cause you problems with the inspection.”
She waved away his concern. “As I said, he’ll be here Tuesday. If you’re cleared out for that, we can formally check you in afterward, and you’ll be set for the entire summer. I can even give you a bigger room if you’d like. Not our suite—it’s already booked for quite a few weekends. But the corner room has a seating area you might find more comfortable for a lengthy stay. It’s a little more expensive, but—”
He held up a hand. “I’m quite comfortable right here. Frankly, I’ll be gone a lot anyway. And I intend to make use of your library if the offer is still good.”
“Of course! You’re welcome to spend all the time you like in there.”
“All right then. If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
Her smile was mesmerizing. “Absolutely. It’ll be fun to have a guest around all summer. Almost like part of the family.” She gave him a pained look. “Sorry. That was probably the wrong thing to say. Not everyone wants to get chatty with the innkeepers. Some prefer to just blend into the background. I’m going to have to get better at this. Levi’s always telling me I talk too much and have no boundaries.”
She simply captivated him. Her long lashes fluttered down when she was embarrassed. He’d have to jot that detail in his notebook.
“Not at all.” He found her chattering ways utterly charming, but it was probably best to keep that to himself. “I look forward to getting to know you all. I can be packed up and out of your hair early Tuesday.”
“That would be great. The inspector’s not due until ten thirty, but I’ll need a little time to clean your room. And we’ve gone to extra measures to be sure everything is up to snuff, so I’m sure we’ll pass the inspection with flying colors. We only need to score 70 percent to get the permit—again, something you probably didn’t need to hear.”
He bit back a smile. “Check-in is at three o’clock?”
“I can call you when we’re all set here. Do you have a pen? Here, just give me your phone.”
He did as she asked, and she plugged in her number and sent herself a text. Getting a number from a woman had never been so easy.
She seemed a little distracted as she handed back his phone.
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” he said. “I could easily move into the house for a couple days until things are all clear.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” She bit her lip, calling attention to the vertical line down the middle of her plump lower lip. Another detail he should write down before he forgot.
“I was wanting to ask you about a project I’m working on—since research is kind of your thing.”
“Of course. What is it?”
She tucked both hands into her back pockets. “If I wanted to find someone, how would I go about doing it?”
“Find someone—like a missing person?”
“Sort of. I’m not very good with computers, so I’ll probably have to resort to public documents and the library.”
Now he was curious. Was she looking for a birth parent? An old boyfriend? “What information do you have about the person?”
“Two people, actually. I have their names—just the first and last—and former addresses.”
“I can’t imagine it would take too long to locate them, especially on a computer.”
“I know, but that’s really not my—”
He was already withdrawing his Mac from his bag and opening it on the desk in his room.
“Come on in.” He sank into the wooden chair. “What are the names and address? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“It’s actually two names at two different addresses.” She read one of them off her phone and came to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder. “This is awfully nice of you. I’m terrible at this stuff. Grace says I was born in the wrong era. I mean, I can get around a little on there, but I’ve mostly used the computer in school for documents and Excel, though I truly hate spreadsheets.”
“Not a problem.”
“Well, I am on Facebook. Isn’t everybody?”
“I’m not.” He scanned the results of the search, but there was nothing that included all the words he’d put in.
“Really? Are you more a Twitter guy? Instagram? LinkedIn?”
His lips twitched. “None of the above. But I can send a mean email. Well, not mean as in hostile but—”
“I understand.”
“Social media isn’t really my thing. So . . . this information isn’t turning up much of anything.”
“Well . . . I should’ve mentioned the addresses are very old—dating back to the sixties.”
“Oh, I see. That is a long time ago.” He was beyond curious, but he didn’t want to pry.
“I found a lost letter,” Molly blurted.
He turned and looked up into her sparkling eyes.
“In the wall downstairs, when my brother was installing the window in the lobby.”
“In the wall?”
“Remember how I told you this building used to house the—”
“Post office.” He was starting to make sense of this. How curious.
“Right. There was a mail slot, and the letter apparently got stuck in there for all these years.”
Interesting. Romance may be his genre of choice, but he did love a good mystery. “Are you wanting to forward the letter to its intended recipient then?”
“Sort of.” She looked down for a long moment before meeting his gaze again, guilt in her eyes. “I already read the letter. I probably shouldn’t have—it’s a federal offense to tamper with mail, but I couldn’t help myself. And now I almost wish I hadn’t, because it’s a love letter. Even worse, it’s a declaration that might’ve changed the course of their lives had the letter gone through.”
Ah, romance and mystery with a thread of history. “You have me intrigued.”
Her eyes lit up as she sank onto the footboard of his bed as if pulled there by gravity. “I know, right? Finally, someone who understands. My sister thinks I’m crazy, and my brother . . . ugh. Would you like to read the letter?”
“And become guilty of a federal offense?” he deadpanned.
She froze for a moment before giving a soft little laugh. “You’re teasing me. Grace thought I was being ridiculous too. I guess it has been sitting around a long time.”
“I’d love to read the letter. It sounds like a—”
She was already halfway out the room. “Be right back.”
He listened to the sounds of her footsteps going down the hall, a smile playing at his mouth. She was so excited about this letter—not that he could blame her. The mystery intrigued him too. Just not as much as Molly herself did.
He stood and turned his chair so she could have a seat when she returned, then perched on the bed’s wooden footboard. She was back before he had time to get nervous about having her in his room again.
She slipped into the room, leaving the door open, and handed him a white envelope. “Here it is.”
“Have a seat.” He scanned the addresses on the face of the envelope, taking in the feminine script and the four-cent stamp. Then he lifted the flap and removed the sheet of stationery.
* * *
Molly watched Adam as he read the letter. His expression remained impassive, a slight glare from the window making it hard to see his eyes behind his glasses.
He held the letter with steady hands. His fingers were long and tapered, the nails neatly trimmed. Nice hands. Manly hands.
Why was she thinking about his hands? Her eyes swept upward toward his face. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead as he read. He’d shaved this morning, and she found herself missing the slightly frumpy look of the scruff. Although it gave her a clear view of his jawline.
He turned toward her, letting the letter fall to his thigh. “That’s quite a letter.” His voice had a new husky note.
“Thank you. Honestly, my siblings don’t have a romantic bone in their entire bodies. You don’t think I’m crazy for wanting to track them down?”
“Not at all. I’d do exactly the same.”
Molly felt her smile broaden. “I knew you’d understand. So where do I start? How do I go about finding them?”
“They’re in their seventies now—or at least Lizzie is. She doesn’t give Benjamin’s age, but he’s at least eighteen, if I’m interpreting the reference to the war correctly.”
“Yes, that’s a good point.”
“I hate to be a killjoy, but I’d suggest starting with death records. They’re public, and there’s no point looking for them if they’ve already passed.”
She knew he was right. “All right. Where do I find those?”
“The internet would be your best bet since you don’t know for sure where they were living. You could check local records for Lizzie or Elizabeth, but there’s no guarantee she stayed in Bluebell her whole life.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“If you come up empty, it’ll get a little more complicated. There are probably hundreds of people in the US with those names. We don’t have social security numbers or birth dates, or even middle names.”
We.
Everything else he said went right over her head as she absorbed the unifying pronoun. That word warmed her heart in a way she couldn’t describe or even fully understand.
“So . . .” he continued when she didn’t respond. “This may very well take a while to work out.”
“I’ll check the county records first chance I get. Though Levi is kind of on the warpath about the inn. And honestly, I have more to do before opening than I even want to think about.”
“Let me help with your search.” He shifted a bit, just enough that the glare on his glasses gave way to soft blue eyes, framed in dark lashes.
“I can’t ask that of you. You’re a guest—I’m supposed to be serving your needs.” Her brother would have her head. He’d already cautioned her about getting too familiar with the guests. Getting Adam involved in her little project definitely crossed the line.
“Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’ve let me stay here free—for four nights by the time it’s all done and said. The way I see it, I still owe you.”
She waved his words away. “No, you don’t.”
“I don’t care to be in someone’s debt, and this is an excellent way to return the favor. Besides which, I love a good mystery, and this one’s aroused my curiosity.”
“I couldn’t impose. You have your own work to do.”
“Not so much that I can’t fit in a side project. I’d love to get to the bottom of it as much as you would.”
He seemed sincere. That was the thing she liked so much about those eyes. They were very sincere. After the debacle with Dominic, that particular trait meant a lot to her.
“Are you sure you’d have time for it?”
“Please.” His lips twitched. “You had me at ‘lost letter.’”
And then, as if the movie reference wasn’t enough, he lifted the letter and sealed the deal. “These people—if they’re still alive—deserve to know what happened. Don’t you think?”
Molly’s heart gave a hard tug. He did understand. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was a romantic or simply pragmatic enough to realize how important closure was. But right then Molly felt as if she’d found a kindred spirit.
“Thank you, Adam,” she said. And she didn’t know if she’d ever meant those words more.