“If Emerson met Frank and Ricardo in Washington in the spring or summer of 1984, then she may have been friends with Frank andCarolyn ever since,” Zander said. “That would explain Emerson’s current presence in Carolyn’s life.”
Too energized to sit still, Britt edged to the front of her seat cushion. “But Carolyn said she’d never heard of or met Ricardo. Is it plausible to think that Frank would have cut Ricardo out of his family life but included Emerson in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you ever remember meeting Emerson in the years when you lived at Frank and Carolyn’s house?” she asked.
“No.”
“Which seems to suggest that Sunny and Carolyn became friends recently.”
“If the two women became friends recently, then their friendship can’t be a coincidence.”
“No,” Britt said at once. “There’s no way that the woman who stole Grant’s paintings alongside Frank’s friend Ricardo could coincidentally appear in Frank’s wife’s life years later.”
“Which means that Sunny had a reason for befriending Carolyn. She inserted herself into Carolyn’s life on purpose.”
“Because of the Triple Play, I’d guess.”
“And potentially,” Zander said, “Frank’s death.”
“My!” Grant said heartily.
Britt started. She’d forgotten he was there.
“This is all very exciting,” the older man said.
Was it too late to swap out Grandma for Grant? She’d love to have him for a grandparent.
“I need to call Carolyn and warn her about Sunny.” Zander reached for his cell phone.
“And tomorrow we need to have a talk with Emerson.”
“Go get ’em!” Grant clapped. “And be sure to let me know if you happen to cross paths with Callista’s Modiglianis.”
Zander’s journal entry, one year ago:
I’ve traveled all over the world searching for things. Freedom. Experiences I can collect like shells from a beach. Culture. History. Learning. Writing inspiration.
The more I search the world, the more certain I am that the person I love the most is right where I began. Everything I truly want can be found in my own hometown.
Chapter
sixteen
He didwhat?” Maddie exclaimed the next morning.
“He kissed me,” Britt answered.
“He kissed you!”
“Shh,” Britt cautioned, with a glance around the interior of The Merryweather Coffee House. News traveled quickly in a small town, and Britt didn’t want everyone in northwest Washington knowing by noon that Zander had kissed her. She hadn’t even told her sisters yet.
A bustling morning rush filled the establishment. People dressed in professional garb ordered double shots of espresso. A group of male retirees sat at a round table, chuckling and drinking plain black coffee out of mugs. Women in work-out clothing requested non-fat lattes.
Because Britt and Zander were planning on paying Emerson a house call this morning, Britt had decided to clock in at Sweet Art after their conversation with Emerson. She’d slept in and was now indulging in the luxury of a blueberry scone paired with a cappuccino.
Earlier, she’d texted Maddie to let her know that she wouldn’t be arriving at Sweet Art until later, and that Maddie was in bigtrouble for tattling to Zander about Britt’s night out with Hannah and Mia.
