Peter put a hand to his head. “I told you, Talbot —.”

  All of a sudden, a loud bang sounded from the far side of my mother’s house.

  Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

  “What’s that?” I asked, as a fourth clunk, the sound of a fist pounding on glass, bellowed through the dark, fall air.

  “Stay here!” Peter pushed a hand toward me. He skipped the path and darted through the muddy garden beds toward my mother’s house and yelled, “Who’s there?”

  A shadowy figure moved clumsily toward Mom’s sunroom door. The person’s hand wrapped around the handle and pulled. “Wake up, Busy!” a woman’s voice yelled. “I know you’re in there, Busy!”

  I grabbed my phone from my clutch and turned on the flashlight, shining it on the intruder just as she reached for a large rock. The woman wound up to throw the stone baseball-style through Mom’s glass window, but Peter grabbed her arm just in time. The rock fell to the paver below as Mom, obviously awoken by the raucous, stepped onto her back patio.

  “Charlotte?” my mother asked with a confused expression on her face and a tremor in her voice. “What’s going on here?”

  Charlotte Ellerton-Bluebell stumbled forward and stuck a finger in my mother’s face. “You!” she shouted, teetering backward. She must have had one too many tonics tonight.

  “We need to leave Aunt Charlotte,” Peter demanded, steadying his aunt and leading her toward his car. “Now!”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” She ripped her arm from Peter’s grasp. She shuffled from one foot to the other, finally balancing herself on the edge of the weathered siding of the sunporch. “Not until you tell me, Busy.”

  Mom crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell you what, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte extended her index finger. “Tell me…”

  Mom’s eyes grew wide as Charlotte finished her question.

  “Tell me why in heavens my father left you, Busy Meadows, two million dollars?”

  Chapter 13

  “Two million dollars?” A look of genuine shock crossed Mom’s face as she wrapped the thin robe tighter around her body.

  Peter grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder. “You should go, Aunt Charlotte. I’ll call Patrick.”

  “Humph!” she spat. “You think that little snip will let him out of her sight?” I assumed she referred to Lizzy.

  Peter’s pleading eyes caught mine. “Do you and Busy mind going inside? I’ll be in to explain everything in a few minutes.”

  “Wha … what is there to explain?” Charlotte slurred, her eyes burning into my mom. “You came to Father’s every Saturday morning. Working in the garden. Talking with him, luring him in with your tea and muffins.” If her voice weren’t so loud and shaky, the words were actually funny. “Cozying up to him to steal his money.” She stumbled back and Peter caught her arm. “My money.”

  “Patrick,” Peter spoke firmly into his phone. “You need to pick up your mother at Busy’s place. Now.” He hung up. “This way, now Aunt Charlotte,” he demanded, guiding his drunk aunt to the white wrought-iron picnic set in the middle of the garden and sat with her while Mom and I moved inside.

  Annabelle Lee greeted us in the sunroom and rubbed an arched back across Mom’s legs. “Here. ” I grabbed a blanket from a paint-chipped wicker set and tossed it around Mom’s back. Her entire body shook violently as Annabelle Lee cuddled up next to her. “Good girl,” I said, scratching under the cat’s chin. One thing a human could always count on are their dogs and cats. Animals always know when their people need comfort.

  Mom turned to me, face ashen. “Two million dollars?” She rubbed a hand over Annabelle Lee and spoke to no one in particular. “Why would Harold leave me two million dollars?”

  The back door opened and Peter walked in, a somber expression on his face. “Busy,” he said, looking at my mother and lifting his hands, palm out. “I am so sorry you had to find out this way. The contents of the will weren’t to be revealed for another two week.” He frowned. “But because of the investigation, things have changed a bit.” Mom placed her hands in his. “I was going to tell you tomorrow,” he said genuinely.

  I sighed and suddenly felt like a fool. A few things clicked into placed. Lizzy’s comment at the dinner tonight. I thought she didn’t want to be near me because of what I’d found out at Castle & Crown, but it went much deeper than that. I looked to Peter, who now wrapped a consoling arm around my mother. He didn’t deceive me intentionally, just like he’d said. He was legally bound by the will, and it was news my mother needed to hear before anyone else. I couldn’t fault him for that.

  “So this was your secret?” I said more than asked, suddenly feeling like an idiot for accusing Peter, the man who made butterflies take flight in my stomach, of murder.

  Peter sent me a knowing smile and began. “Grandfather summoned me a few weeks back to discuss his estate and changes he wanted to make.” He shrugged. “Naturally, when any discussion of changing a will occurs, family members are bound to become upset.” He glanced out the window and at the large stone that Charlotte almost launched through it. “More than upset.”

  “Let me put on some water for tea,” Mom muttered, standing up in a trance-like state. I wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “I’ll get it, Mom. Let’s move into the kitchen.”

  The three of us settled around the kitchen island as I put a pot of water on the burner dotted with bit of rust.

  Peter began. “The major change in the will was for you, Busy.”

  Tears welled up in the corner of Mom’s eyes. “Oh my. Oh my,” she mumbled.

  Peter placed a calming hand on my mother’s and continued. “Grandfather revealed that over these past few years, he’d come to rely on you, Busy. To confide in you.” He frowned. “My father lived and worked in England up until his death three years ago, and my aunt had been on the bottle since her husband died. Although his grandson Patrick lived in town, he wasn’t particularly close to him, ever since …” He stopped there.

  But I read the next words from his head. I knew he was going to say ever since the breakup.

  Peter gently squeezed Mom’s hand. “You, Busy, were the only person to really care for Grandfather these last few years. He’d told me about your walks through the garden, discussing his favorite plants, discussing life, discussing literature.”

  Mom dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “I just listened to him mostly,” she chuckled.

  Peter tilted a chin down at the mug now cupped by his hands. “Making his tea.” Peter paused and smiled. “Those moments were special to him, Busy. And he wanted to thank you for them.”

  Tears dripped down the sides of Mom’s face. “He was like a father to me at times.” Mom’s voice trembled.

  I thought to her choking back tears at the funeral and then again when walking through Harold’s house the other night. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mom?”

  Mom placed a hand on my cheek. “Oh, Talbot. I’d forgiven him for what he’d done to you a long time ago.” She moved a curl from my cheek. “I just wasn’t sure you had.”

  Kevin’s words from the station came rushing back. Selfish Talbot, only thinking of herself. I was too focused on myself and what Harold had done to me years ago to see how he’d changed and impacted others. How he’d kept my mother company, been a friend to her. She had made her peace with him, but I never did. In conversations I’d had with Mom over the past 15 years, when she’d mentioned Harold Ellerton’s name, I’d become irritable, and promptly change the subject. The grudge I had held against him had affected others.

  “So what happens now?” I asked Peter.

  He sighed. “Nothing until the will is finalized, and I have a feeling that won’t happen until the investigation is complete.” Peter rubbed his neck and pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry. This is going to get out sooner rather than later, and there will be people who will place the blame on you, Busy.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” I spat. “Mom just found out about the will … her money … tonight.”

  Mom dabbed a tissue to her nose. “It’s a small town, honey,” she said through a sniff. “And until Kevin finds the actual murderer, they’ll need a scapegoat. And who’s a better one than the woman he left two million dollars?”

  I made a list in my head. Charlotte. Patrick. Peter. “There are three other people to benefit from Harold’s death too, mother.” Then there was the local election. “Four if you include Mayor Moore.” But both Samuel and Charlotte had been questioned and released. I cast a quick glance to Peter and then looked toward my mug. Suddenly the suspect list seemed impossibly small.

  Peter shifted on his stool. “I’ve been thoroughly vetted too,” he assured us and looked to my mom.

  “They must have missed something from someone.” I accused nobody in particular.

  “Let Kevin do his job, Talbot,” Mom remarked. “Give him more credit than that.”

  Peter stood erect and brought his mug to the sink. “I asked Kevin to wait until I had the chance to disclose your inheritance before questioning you. I’m sure he’ll be speaking with you at work tomorrow, Busy. My professional suggestion is that you tell him everything that occurred tonight.”

  Mom nodded and stood. “Thank you, Peter.” She looked toward the clock. 11:47. “I need to try and get some rest.” She kissed my forehead and then hugged Peter. “Try to process this all.” She sniffed back more tears. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  In that moment I realized that Mom really cared for Harold, and I was too focused on my drama, holding onto my grudge, to even notice. Daughter of the year.

  “Busy,” Peter spoke gently. He took the mug from Mom’s hands and placed it in the sink. “They’ll get to the bottom of this. I know it.”

  Mom locked the back door behind us as Peter escorted me through the gardens, up the garage stairs, and to my doorstep.

  “Well, that certainly is not how I saw tonight going,” I said in astonishment.

  Peter wrapped his arms around me so my head leaned on his chest. “I’m so sorry to have kept something from you, Talbot. I hope you understand why I couldn’t say anything.”

  I glanced up and into his deep blue eyes. “I understand. And.” I looked to my shoes. “I’m sorry I kind of accused you of murder.”

  Peter tucked a curl of blonde hair behind my ear. “Just like you, I want more than ever to find out who killed my grandfather.”

  With the new knowledge of Harold’s will, now I had an even greater reason to find out the truth.

  Peter sucked air between his teeth. “And I have a feeling no matter how many times I suggest you leave this up to Kevin and his men, you aren’t going to listen.”

  I smirked and stood in my tiptoes. “You are getting to know me,” I chirped, moving forward, planting a peck on his cheek.

  Peter pushed another strand of hair from my face and cupped my chin with his hand. “I love a girl who knows what she wants.”

  I knew exactly what I wanted as I wrapped my hands around Kevin’s neck and pulled him down to me. Our lips met and warmth spread throughout my core as the kiss deepened.

  Peter pulled away. “I could do that all night long,” he murmured. “But I think we all need to process the events of this evening.”

  I nodded firmly. “Agreed.”

  “I’ll stop by the cafe tomorrow morning,” he promised, kissing me once more.

  Before he stepped back, I spoke. “Peter? Do you still think that note and the Folio have something to do with Harold’s death?” I asked.

  He pulled his lips to the side and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. It seems you and I were the only ones to know about it, and its existence is still questionable.”

  His words were true. I nodded and squeezed his hand. “Goodnight, Peter.”

  “Goodnight, Talbot.” Peter slipped from my grasp, moved down the steps, and got into his car.

  “Best night ever,” I murmured. “Well … sort of.” I leaned my head against the door, but something unexpected happened. From the slight pressure of my back, the door opened up behind me and I went stumbling backward into my apartment. “What the?” I muttered, pushing myself from the floor, rubbing my already sore elbow. Romeo ran immediately to my side and yipped wildly until I flicked on the light.

  I glanced around the room. Everything was just as I had left it, except one new item had appeared. A sheet of paper rested against the lavender candle on the center of my nightstand.

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat, and suddenly wished Peter hadn’t left.

  Talbot — Don’t Overstay Your Welcome.

  I knew I’d heard those exact words recently. I closed my eyes and scanned my memory of the past five days. My eyes flew open as I picked up the note and placed it in the nightstand drawer next to the other note from Harold. “Lizzy Peartree,” I uttered.

  I dialed Peter, and he picked up on the first ring.

  “Do you need me to come back over?” he asked after I’d told him of the note. Concern laced his tone. “I’m only a moment away.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, “just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

  “Do you want me to call Kevin?” he offered.

  I smiled at how protective he was of me. “No, I’ll take care of it.” It was just Lizzy Peartree. I looked toward Mom’s house. “I’ll probably just crash on Mom’s couch tonight.”

  Peter sighed on the other end. “If you’re sure you’re alright.”

  “I am. Thanks for a wonderful night, Peter.”

  * * *

  “You will never believe —.”

  “Take this,” Piper said. She met me in front of Cafe Prose the next morning and handed me a box filled with pastry goodness — fresh croissants with flaky crust, blueberry muffins with crumb topping, and slices of apple pie with sugar glaze. She unlocked the front door, flicked on the lights, and pointed to the coffee bar. “Those go in the pastry display,” she said. “Pastries, pie,” she muttered the checklist under her breath. “Fire!” She held a finger in the air and then rushed to the fireplace.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I asked my incredibly flustered friend.

  Piper buzzed back to the coffee bar, flicked on the coffee maker, and began brewing the roast of the day — Perfectly Pumpkin. “Henry’s silly company had to extend his business trip again and we were supposed to pick wedding colors last night.” She threw her hands in the air and the bangles slid down to her elbows. “You know how indecisive I am, so I was just up all night going over swatches for my bridesmaid’s dresses.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, looked up. “Center yourself, Piper. Center.” She sighed again and spread her arms wide. “I’ve just had a bit too much caffeine, that’s all!” she practically screamed.

  I laughed. “Your wedding is two months away.” I acted as if I knew how much time in advance the colors needed to be decided. And even without wedding-planning experience, I was almost positive those should have been picked out weeks ago. “You’ll be fine!” I reassured her.

  Piper hugged me. “Great! Can you come over tonight and give me a hand? I’m torn between holly berry red and pine tree green, and I want my maid of honor to have a say.”

  Even though Piper hadn’t officially asked me to be in the wedding, as soon as Henry popped the question in August, it was assumed I’d fill the maid of honor role. We’d talked about being in one anothers’ weddings since second grade when Piper and I fake married the Suarez twins in front of a rusted-out, jungle-gym set on the playground. Unfortunately, my first marriage didn’t last through recess.

  Piper looked at me through puppy dog eyes, awaiting my response. Even though I wanted to see Peter again tonight, my best friend came first. “Of course,” I answered with a Piper-esque shoulder shimmy. “No plans. I’ll help.”

  “Yay!” she jumped up and down. “Now!” she yelled.

  I pushed the air down in front of me, like a gesture I’d give Romeo if he was getting too excited for treats. “Caalllmmm.”

  Piper sighed deeply once more and started again. “Now,” she said in a relaxed tone this time. “I want to hear about last night.” Her eyes narrowed. “And don’t want you sparing any details.” It was Piper’s turn to shoulder shimmy. “But.” Her lip turned down. “I need to make a run to Hershey to pick up a new decaf bean,” she said, referring to chocolate-town USA just a few villages over. “I know you can handle a two hour shift alone.” She handed me my apron. “Right?”

  “I guess so,” I spoke like a woman with half-arse confidence in her espresso-making skills.

  But it went better than expected. Exactly twelve lattes, four cappuccinos, twenty-two drip coffee orders later, one visit from Peter, and seven books sold by Amanda in the loft, Piper returned, decaf beans in hand.

  “Just so you know,” I said. “I successfully made it through the morning rush shift entirely on my own.” I gestured to my clean shirt and apron. “And note the lack of coffee spillage.” I reached an arm to my shoulder, giving myself a little pat on the back.

  Piper glanced around the now-empty shop and spoke. “I think that’s cause for a break and a celebration!” She pulled from the Hershey bag a handful of dark chocolate bars. “Amanda!” she trilled.

  Amanda poked her head out from behind a bookshelf. “Yeah?”

  Piper pulled three matching teacups from the shelf. “Tea time!”

  Four minutes later, the three of us sat around the crackling fireplace and sipped on chai teas. I tossed my heeled ankle booties to the floor and curled my feet under my butt like I used to do as a kid. “I like slow days!” I said.

  Piper grunted. “Not me,” she said in true business owner fashion. “Now tell us about your date last night.”

  I laughed and dramatically placed a hand to my forehead. “I thought you’d never ask, darling,” I said in my best Aunt Tilly impression.

  I filled Piper and Amanda in on all things from the dinner — Peter, wine, food, Lizzy Peartree, Patrick, dancing, kissing.”

 

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