“I wasn’t!” He grinned at the fierce expression on her face. She was all kinds of cute when she was determined. “So, do you want to go back down there?” He gestured to the patch of wall covering the hiddenstairway.
“I do, but I can’t right now.” She picked up the cell phone she’d left on the foyer table and checked the time. “The tile guy is going to be here in fifteen minutes, and then I have a conference call, and after that I’ve got to make decisions on window treatments so I can get the order placed with the decorator before John Fischer and Iva gethere—”
“John Fischer andIva?”
Leslie looked distracted. “He’s a famous writer…I think. You know, Jeremy Fischer? He writes the Bruno Tablenture thrillers. It’s him, but he’s undercover, trying not to be noticed, so going by John. And Iva Bergstrom—you probably know her if you know my aunt—she wants to see if she can sense a ghostly presence here. I’m almost afraid to tell her about lastnight.”
“Why?” he asked, but he was trying to pare through her explanation about the “famous writer.” Who was supposedly trying to beundercover…?
“Because I don’t think I’ll be able to get Iva to leave after she hears that I saw a ghost.” Leslie laughed. “She’s a littleintense.”
But Declan was still stuck on the John Fischer, maybe, probably the famous Jeremy Fischer. He’d seen the Bruno T movies and the books displayed everywhere—but he couldn’t picture thewriter.
And that bothered him more than he wanted toadmit.
Declan wanted to ask more, but he realized it would make him sound like he cared too much—or was being too nosy. Which he was. But all of her other visitors were “the tile guy,” “the decorator,” “a conference call”—none of them had aname.
At least John Fischer wasn’t E-with-a-heart on October15th.
“I can come back and remove that drywall in front of the hidden door if you want—what time is Iva comingby?”
If he was there he might be able to casually find out what, if anything, was going on with the Fischer guy and Leslie. Good grief. Was he actually considering rearranging his day in order to dothat?
“She’s coming at eleven, and thank you, Declan, but that’s not necessary. I know how busy you are. Didn’t you just get a big new project?” she added with a biggrin.
Right. He got the message on that loud and clear: get back to work, O menial laborer of mine. Just like Margie Hamberg, once she’d gotten what she wanted from him. His mood soured. “That’s right,” he said. “I’ll just get goingnow.”
Leslie seemed to notice his change of mood, for she looked at him funny, but then her phone rang. “Ugh, sorry, but I have to take this—it’s the plumber I’ve been trying to reach for two days now.” With an abashed smile, she answered the phone, leaving Declan to show himselfout.
To give her credit, Leslie did walk with him back to the kitchen and gave a little wave as he walked through the door. She even followed him out into the yard and looked over when he gestured to the empty tunacan.
“See you later, Declan,” she called, covering thephone.
Right. Maybe he’d check in on that massage thing at Beau Monde Salon. He could work out a few kinks—both physically andmentally.
Eight
“Oh,look—Orbra’s Tea House is giving out free tea samples!” Emily Delton smiled up at Declan as they pushed their way through the crowd of teenagers and parents toward thebleachers.
The high school football stadium was packed everywhere—in the seats, walkways, and concessions and rest room lines. It was Homecoming, after all, and because of the upcoming multiyear reunion, there was an unusual number of people at the game, at least according toEmily.
“We’ll be lucky if we can get a seat in the bleachers close enough to see the girls,” she’d told him when they met up in the parkinglot.
It hadn’t been planned for them to meet up, at least on Declan’s part, but he didn’t mind that they had. After all, he was going to be sitting alone anyway, because Baxter James—who he’d normally hang out with—would be up in the press box covering the game for the paper, and Ethan Murphy, his other friend in town, was back on campus at the University of Chicago. Dec hadn’t been in town long enough to get to know many other people besides a few of Steph’s friends’parents.
“It sure got cold overnight,” Emily said as they pushed their way through the masses of people to reach the temporary gazebo Orbra had set up for her sponsorship. “Normally I’d go for hot chocolate, but tea has fewer calories—and it smells delicious.” She smiled up at him, the tip of her nose red with cold and her breath making soft little puffs in the chillyair.
“That’s Michigan for you,” Declan agreed. “One day it’s seventy degrees, and the next it’s forty. Part of the Lake Michigan effect.” He was glad he’d worn a hat and had gloves; it was going to get really chilly once the sun wentdown.
“Tea samples!” called Orbra from behind her table. There was a flurry of activity inside the small square space, which was enclosed by a U-shape of tables and covered by a temporary awning. Four people worked busily, filling paper cups from the tall silver canisters on a table in the back. “Get your teasamples!”
“Mmm. This smells good,” said Emily, taking a small cup. The scents of cinnamon and orange wafted through theair.
“It’s my own special blend. It’s got whole star anise in it. Perfect for autumn,” Orbrasaid.
“Hi there, Declan,” said Cherry with a particularly smoldering grin. “You ready to come in and try some hot yoga? Anytime you want, young man, you just let me know—I do private lessonstoo!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed, enjoying the meaningless flirtation—though Emily looked back and forth between him and Cherry as if she wasscandalized.
