Elisa gave her order next, then Miley curtly addressed them both before turning to the shiny coffee maker to her left. “I’ll call your number when it’s ready.”
Noah frowned. “But you didn’t give me a num?—”
“Just go.” Elisa half-pushed him toward an empty group of chairs in the back corner by the chalkboard wall. Once they were out of earshot, she smiled. “Get ready for the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”
Noah slid his card back inside his wallet. “But she seems like she’s in a bad mood.”
“Exactly. The forecast was cloudy, remember?” Elisa plopped down on one of the black slip-covered chairs and pulled her legs up under her.
He sat stiffly on the wide seat next to Elisa, a low table angled between them. “So the coffee is better when Miley is upset?”
“Every time.”
Was this still Magnolia Bay, or had he stumbled after a rabbit with a stopwatch? “In Shreveport, you just order coffee and it’s the same every time.”
“What can I say? Magnolia Bay has character.” Elisa shrugged.
That was one word for it. Regardless, he could use that coffee. Noah rubbed his hand down his face. “Where’s the first clue?”
Elisa raised her eyebrows. “You have it.”
Oh, yeah. He pulled his envelope from his back pocket and wrestled the thin paper free.
Elisa craned her head sideways to read the card alongside him.
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be…
He leaned back in his chair. “That’s helpful.”
“Is that your grandfather’s handwriting?” Elisa’s tone gentled as she ran one finger lightly over the ink.
There went that knot again. “It is.” He closed his eyes as images of that exact writing filled his memories. Scribbles in the margins of books. Notes posted on the fridge and stuck on the bathroom mirror. Tags on Christmas gifts. Even when Grandpa had writtenSanta, Noah knew. Yet he’d always played along.
He abruptly opened his eyes. “What does yours say?”
Elisa opened her envelope.
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light…
Noah groaned. “They’re both pieces from a poem.”
“Paul Revere’s Ride.” Elisa’s eyes lit with excitement even as Noah felt his own energy seeping away. This was already impossible. What was Grandpa thinking?
“The lines are out of order. I wonder if that’s significant.” Elisa tapped her chin with her finger, the whirring of the espresso machine competing with her words.
Noah leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean?” He had so much to do at the inn, and here he sat, waiting on coffee from a moody college kid and contributing nothing to the challenge at hand.
He didn’t need more opportunities to be set up for failure.
“You have the first part of Clue #1. But in the poem, the lines from my clue—Clue #1, Part Two—come first.” Elisa tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Might be nothing.”
“It’s got to be a church, right?” Noah pointed to the wording on Elisa’s paper. “North Church tower…”
“But none of the churches around here have bell towers.” Elisa tilted her head. “Maybe it’s symbolic?”
