Britt couldn’t spot a single one.
This new infatuation with himmustend. She’d become, because of him, as terrible an egg huntress as Winnie.
Note passed between Britt and Zander in ninth grade:
BRITT:Would you go with Hannah to the mid-winter dance as friends? She doesn’t have a date yet, and it would help me out if you’d go with her. Plus, it would be fun to have you as part of our group that night.
ZANDER:If it would help you out, then sure. No problem.
Note passed between Maddie and Britt in ninth grade:
MADDIE:Hannah is really excited about going to the mid-winter dance with Zander. She won’t admit it, but I can totally tell that she’s crushing on him.
BRITT:No, I don’t think so.
MADDIE:Trust me! She is. Do you think he’s into her?
BRITT:Not in that way. I mean, I really love Hannah. But I don’t think her personality is quite right for Zander. They’re not a fit.
Note written by Britt in ninth grade:
Mom, Zander’s shoes are really worn out, and his jacket’s too small. Will you take me shopping this weekend so we can buy him new stuff for his birthday?
Chapter
eight
Two days later, Britt evaluated her most recent attempt at the peppermint truffle.
Better. Though still not quite right. Something was lacking. Its finish was bland. Not complex nor interesting enough. Yet.
How to fix it? How to fix it?
She sat cross-legged atop the chair at the desk located in Sweet Art’s kitchen. Though she wasn’t currently looking at Zander, she could feel his presence as if he were a heater and she a freezing person.
He’d taken up his usual position at the central island, empty at this point in the afternoon. She finished work at two o’clock each day, and the clock read 2:10. She’d already put her kitchen to bed.
She carefully arranged the papers Zander had brought with him when he’d arrived. Just in case they were wrong about Frank’s involvement in the Triple Play, they’d divided up their list of Seattle-area shootings that had occurred in 1985. Then they’d each chased down as much information on those shootings as they could.
So far, none of the research they’d gathered was leaping out at her.
She looked toward Zander.
He motioned to the peppermint truffle she’d given him to sample. He’d eaten half. “Have you considered adding rosemary to this recipe?”
“Interesting suggestion. Sophisticated suggestion. But, no. That’s not the direction I’m wanting to go with this one. I’m thinking butterscotch.”
“In that case, almond extract, perhaps?”
“Excellent, Daniel-son. But expected.”
He smiled at theKarate Kidreference, popped the rest of his truffle into his mouth, and regarded her solemnly as he chewed. He’d gotten his hair trimmed since she’d seen him yesterday. The edges of it were perfectly straight now but the top was still the way she liked it best—longer and in a mild state of disarray.
His soft brown long-sleeved shirt suited his austere looks. His worn-in jeans fit him as if they’d been tailor-made. When he’d entered Sweet Art a few minutes ago, he’d brought with him the luxurious scent of his cologne. The fragrance always made Britt think of leather and cognac and handmade suits and rich, exotic spices—
She fought to return her focus to the pages in front of her before her wayward thoughts cobbled together a mutiny. “I don’t see anything promising here.”
“I don’t either.”
