I inhaled the fragrant, spicy aroma of my tea, added a teaspoon of honey and stirred, wondering what this mysterious change was. Patrick grew still as I gingerly placed a hand on his. A fluttering suddenly overtook my stomach, and I pushed the feeling away, chalking it up to never having real closure years ago. “And your mother’s home now?” I finally asked.

  “Yes. Kevin finished up a little after midnight.”

  Patrick squeezed my hand. “Thanks for listening, Talbot. I miss-.” He quickly closed his mouth and swallowed down his words, releasing my hand from his. “Thanks.” His eyes locked on mine as he tossed four dollars on the counter. Eventually his piercing gaze broke away. A sudden warmth from old memories, old emotions, spread through my core as the man I’d once loved left Cafe Prose.

  I shook my head and got back to work.

  “What was that all about?” Piper asked, clomping down the steps.

  Amanda followed on her heels. “Yeah? That looked super intense.”

  I flicked the air with my hand. “It’s nothing.” I placed a hand to my blushing cheek. “Oh!” I said, realizing they referred to the other situation with Patrick. “Patrick’s mother was taken in for questioning last night.”

  “Oh, Wow! And?” Piper asked.

  “Don’t know details, but they did release her.”

  Piper pursed her lips. “So she didn’t do it?”

  I shook my head. “Apparently not.”

  Amanda sighed. “Well, that’s a relief. Can you imagine being accused of killing your own parent? Gheesh!” She rinsed her coffee mug in the sink. “They say when murder’s involved, nine times out of ten, it’s a family member.”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard that too.”

  Piper tilted her head to the side. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “So you’re off the mysterious note from Harold trail?”

  Amanda’s eyes grew wide. “What? A mysterious note? This just gets juicier and juicier!”

  I shrugged my shoulders and ignored Amanda’s question. “Looks like my hunch was off.” I chastised myself for ever thinking it had to do with the rarest book in the entire world. “Now I kind of want to know who that will was changed for.”

  “I do too,” Piper and Amanda said in unison.

  Piper peered into her cup and raised an eyebrow. “My leaves tell me you have the perfect way of finding out,” she said mysteriously. “On your date tonight with Peter.”

  “A date with Peter?” Amanda squealed. “Peter Ellerton?” she grinned. “He’s super gorgeous.”

  “I guess he is, isn’t he?” I grinned right back and then glared at Piper. “And no!” I shook my finger at her. “I’m going on a date with Peter to get to know more about him, not seduce him into telling me the contents of Harold’s will.”

  “Oh, come on,” she pleaded.

  I rolled my eyes. “We’ll see,” I relented.

  If I was being honest with myself, I was just as interested in finding out whose name made it into the Ellerton will as Piper.

  Chapter 12

  I glanced out the window and peered across the backyard to a quiet, dark house. I’d hoped Mom would give me a once-over before my date, but it appeared she was stuck at work. I stepped on the stool I’d positioned in front of the bathroom mirror in an attempt to get a full glimpse of my body.

  A put a hand to my hip and posed. “Well? How do I look?” I asked the most important boy in my life. Romeo yipped in response and then took his post as disinterested observer from the middle of my blue and white duvet.

  “If this doesn’t get a name out of Peter, I don’t know what will,” I muttered to myself, giving my outfit a final glance-over. Heike had said at Castle & Crown this morning that I’d be, and I quote, “a simple fool” if I didn’t buy this dress. As I stared at my reflection, I could see exactly why she was right. The new burgundy, just-above-the-knee frock hugged my frame in all the right places — making my small bust look a half-size larger, emphasizing the curves of my hips, yet hiding the small pouch just below my bellybutton that seemed to grow the slightest bit since returning to Willow Creek and its delicious restaurants and home-made baked goods.

  I applied one more coat of mascara and blinked, taking in how the violet eyeshadow made my eyes glow as brilliant as emeralds. I grabbed a deep red shade of lipstick from my makeup bag and slid it along my full lips, hoping the color wouldn’t detract from the dress too much. Finally, I slipped my feet into nude platform heels that raised me a solid four inches— four inches closer to Peter’s mouth. My cheeks flamed red just thinking about that prospect. “You got this,” I reminded myself. Just as I grabbed my new alligator skin clutch from the kitchenette island, a knock sounded from the door.

  I took a deep breath and steadied myself. “Don’t be a klutz,” I said, repeating Piper’s harsh, yet true words of wisdom.

  When I opened the door, Peter stepped back as if I’d just knocked the wind out of him. He put a hand to his chest. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” he finally spoke.

  Don’t be a klutz. “Thank you, Peter. You look nice as well.” Nice? He looks nice? Gosh, he looked a million times better than “nice.”

  In just two days, Peter’s five o’clock shadow had grown into a perfectly trimmed beard, giving him a rugged appearance that made him even more attractive than he’d been before — if that was even possible.

  “They’re doing a wine pairing dinner at the vineyard, and I reserved two spots for us. Does that sound alright to you?”

  Wine? Dinner? Peter? “That sounds delightful,” I sing-songed.

  “They’re having a sparkling wine reception beforehand to celebrate the release of their chambourcin, complete with hors d’oeuvres and let me just say, Talbot Meadows--.” Peter took my hand in his and smoothly spun me around full circle, pulling me gently toward him until I could feel his breath on my hair. “Nobody will be paying attention to the wine.” Ever the gentleman, he leaned down and pressed two lips to my cheek. I wished he’d aimed a few inches to the left.

  “Shall we?” he asked, looping my arm through his.

  “Absolutely,” I chirped, excited to see where this was headed.

  * * *

  “This is just stunning!” I exclaimed as we pulled into Hauser Vineyard’s brick-paved parking lot. Strands of twinkling lights surrounding the converted barn flickered against the dark, autumnal sky as Peter escorted me through the giant wooden barn doors — doors that opened to the barrel room. “The tasting’s in here?” I took in the walls lined with dozens of oaken barrels labeled cabernet sauvignon, merlot, chambourcin, and the grape Pennsylvania soil grows so well – cabernet franc. Two floor-to-ceiling steel vats that looked to be eight or so feet in diameter sat at the other end of the room. I sniffed in the wine-infused air and smiled.

  Then my eyes moved to the center of room where one long feasting table sat, one that boasted a burlap runner down its middle with seven floral arrangements with filled baby’s breath, fall mums the shade of pinot noir, and whole artichokes.

  “Sparkling wine, Ma’am?” a man in black slacks and a fitted white button-down asked. He held a tray full of effervescent white wine that sparkled under the dim lights.

  “Of course.” I picked up two glasses from the tray and passed one to Peter.

  “To an evening of fabulous wine and beautiful company,” he said, clinking my glass with his.

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “What is it?” He pushed a hand down his dark violet V-neck sweater. “Did I get something on my collar?” he asked, suddenly revealing a vulnerable side that was equal parts charming and endearing.

  I tilted my head to the side. “Your attire is perfectly clean,” I laughed. I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just wondering, Peter Ellerton, are you always this smooth?”

  Peter threw his head back and laughed. “This is only our second date.” He took a step toward me so just six inches stood between us. “I’m still in the impress-the-girl stage,” he admitted.

  “Oh,” I said, taken aback by his honesty.

  Peter brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it ever so gently. “But I don’t think I’d ever tire of trying to impress you.” My cheeks were sure to be glowing pink. Oh, he is good.

  We talked about our backgrounds (my history in Willow Creek and D.C. and his time in Manchester) while eating our way around the room — from lemon quinoa-filled endives and bruschetta toast to crab stuffed mushrooms and beef tips in au jus. We’d just finished our last appetizer when a dinner bell sounded from an area I assumed used to be a hayloft. “Dinner is served!” a man with a great, bushy mustache announced.

  We took our seats around the table, and just as the first pairing was to be served -- a shrimp ceviche coupled with a crisp sauvignon blanc -- the double doors flew open and Willow Creek’s golden couple made their grand entrance. Well, it wasn’t that grand actually. Grunts and groans sounded from the two dozen other couples wanting to begin the first course.

  “Oh great,” I mumbled as Patrick and Lizzy took the only two seats left at the table — the two directly to my right and Peter’s left. The stoic look on Peter’s face convinced me he was just as happy about this as I was.

  Peter stood and firmly shook his cousin’s hand. “Patrick,” he acknowledged. Patrick nodded in return and then glanced quickly at me. “Hello, Talbot,” he said indifferently.

  I looked toward Lizzy Peartree who’d taken the seat next to me, but she didn’t even turn her head in return. I guess our little run-in at Castle & Crown this morning was more embarrassing for her than I had thought. Not going to lie, I sort of loved having this upper hand on Willow Creek’s mean queen bee.

  “Mother wasn’t feeling up to the event, so she passed her tickets to us,” Patrick spoke matter-of-factly. He glanced again to me and his eyes lingered on my dress longer than they should, especially with an already brewing fiancé sitting across the table.

  Lizzy shuffled in her seat and spoke. “Had we known you’d be here, then I would have declined the invite,” she half-whispered to me, but it was loud enough for the men to hear.

  “And why exactly is that, Lizzy?” I snarked, this third glass of wine giving me the confidence to ask exactly what was on my mind.

  She spun her head toward me so fast, I was concerned she’d gotten whiplash. “As I told you before, it’s Elizabeth now,” she snipped through gritted teeth. She squinted. “And I think you know exactly why.”

  “Elizabeth,” Patrick warned, reaching a hand across the table. Peter and Patrick briefly exchanged a look I could only describe as awkward, and then Patrick spoke again. “Let’s enjoy this evening out. It can take our mind away from everything. Just focus on the present.”

  “Here, here!” Peter said, jumping in quickly, offering a toast that Lizzy reluctantly participated in.

  * * *

  After a most awkward dinner and another glass of wine, I’d never in my life been happier to take to the dance floor. Now, I’m not ashamed to admit I have two left feet, but getting away from Patrick and the toxic Lizzy made the potential embarrassment of my dancing faux pas worth it.

  “I apologize if Lizzy made that awkward for you,” Peter said. His lips made a flat line. “It’s just …” He began, but then hesitated. “Never mind.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Oh …” he looked past me, hesitated, and then continued with a smirk. “She’s obviously jealous of you.”

  I felt like that’s not what he had wanted to say, but I pushed the feeling aside and stepped on the floor while a four-piece string orchestra played Claire de Lune in the corner. “Well, it looks like they’re leaving now,” I noted as Patrick placed a jacket around Lizzy’s shoulders.

  Lizzy and Patrick left just after the best part of dinner — a decadent dessert of creme brûlée paired with port. “Now, I must warn you.” I wiggled a finger in Peter’s face. “I don’t dance.”

  Peter placed his right hand on my left hip and took my other hand in his. “It seems you’re getting the hang of it.” We moved left and then right, and then left. As I moved back to the right though, my knee banged into Peter’s shin causing my other heel to firmly plant on Peter’s toe.

  “Ouch,” he exclaimed through a grimace.

  I drew back. “I’m so sorry.”

  Peter pulled me back in dancing position. “It’s okay. We’ll just try again. This time just kind of shuffle from side to side.” He looked toward my feet and chuckled. “Don’t actually pick up your feet.”

  By the next song I got the hang of the whole swaying back and forth thing. Peter even spun me around a few times. On the final spin, he pulled me so close, the heat from our bodies intermingled. He leaned down and kissed me ever so softly on the forehead.

  Maybe it was the feeling of happiness that bubbled in my stomach, or maybe it was the four glasses of liquid courage, but something gave me the confidence to whisper in his ear. “I’d really like you to do that again.” I paused and put a finger to my lip. “But here.” Peter’s eyes moved to my lips while his head lowered toward me.

  Finally, our lips met. The kiss was soft and warm and perfect, and I didn’t want it to end.

  But as the orchestra played their last note, we reluctantly moved apart.

  Peter placed his chin on my head and wrapped me in his arms. “Would you like to come over for a nightcap?”

  I smiled. “I thought you’d never ask,” I said in a throaty voice, pulling away. “But you need to answer something for me first.”

  “Anything.”

  “What was the change to Harold’s will?”

  A look I couldn’t quite read danced across Peter’s face. Amusement to anger to disbelief. “Can we just enjoy tonight, enjoy getting to know one another without speculating?”

  “But it’s not speculating if you know.”

  This time Peter drew away. “Did you agree to tonight just to find out the contents of my grandfather’s will?”

  “You can’t seriously think that?” I stepped back and explained. “I saw your grandfather’s appointment book, which led the police to Charlotte, which led to the revelation about the will, which would have come out eventually.” I reached for Peter’s hand, but he pulled it away. “I am following up on this lead because the rare book thing was obviously a dead end.” I crossed my arms over my chest, put off by his suddenly cool demeanor. “Plus, aren’t you the one who asked me to help you a few days ago?”

  Peter took my hands as the next song began and we swayed in time. “There’s no need to draw any attention,” he spoke dryly. “You found Grandfather’s datebook?” He exhaled slowly. “You’re getting too invested in this, Talbot. Maybe you should listen to Kevin Homestead — let the police get to the bottom of it.”

  I didn’t like how his tone mimicked Kevin’s. In fact, it emboldened me to want to solve Harold’s murder myself even more. “Just tell me who, and I promise that’s the last question I’ll ask.” I crisscrossed my finger over my chest. “Promise.”

  Peter’s face softened. “Talbot. You need to understand that the name in the will, all names in fact, are strictly confidential. I can’t share anything it says with you.”

  “Like you said though, it will come out eventually,” I expressed.

  “Talbot.” Peter clenched his teeth. “I really can’t. It wouldn’t be fair —.” He led me off the dance floor and grabbed my jacket from my chair. “I think it’s time to retire for the evening.”

  What? “I guess there’ll be no nightcap, then?” I spat. “Since we must retire.” I mimicked his thick English dialect.

  Way to sound like a child, I chastised myself.

  Peter turned his lips down in the corners. “I think it’s best I take you home.”

  “Look, Peter. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I have a vested interest in this.”

  Peter rubbed his chin. “More than most,” he said quietly, almost as if talking to himself, and then cleared his throat. “I mean you did find Grandfather —.”

  “That I did.”

  Those were the last words spoken between us at the winery.

  After a silent five-minute car ride home, we arrived back to my mother’s house. Peter turned off the engine and sighed. “Despite the last few moments of our date, I really did have a nice evening with you, Talbot.”

  I liked Peter, I really did. But if he was hiding something, then I needed to know what in order to move any farther with him. “Peter? If there’s something you’re keeping for me, I’d appreciate your honesty.”

  He ran a hand across his neck. “Look Talbot, I just don’t want to say … to do … something I’d regret.”

  I leaned away from him. “Something you’d regret?” I asked. My breath came out in short, uneven bursts. “Oh my God,” I said, opening the door behind me. “I need to go.”

  Peter ran around the car and met me just as my heel touched the uneven pavement below. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Please tell me you had nothing to do with your grandfather’s murder.” I braced myself against the door.

  He shook his head from side to side. “What? You can’t honestly think--?”

  I stepped away, and Peter reached out a hand. I moved from his grasp. “And you’re keeping something from me. How do I know you didn’t change the will in your favor?” I suddenly felt like I wanted to vomit.

  Peter laughed. “Talbot. That’s ridiculous. In time, you’ll see.” He extended his arm. “I don’t want to keep anything from you.”

  “Well, you’ve been warning me to stay away from the police.”

  “I don’t want you getting involved, especially if there’s a murderer on the loose.”

  That was valid, but could I believe it? “Plus,” I added, throwing a hand in the air. “You’re keeping something from me and acting awfully guilty about it!”

 

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