“I’ve had a lot of great experiences.”
The swirling mist intensified the paleness of his eyes. Sunlight created sparkles in the air around them. Not having a place to call her own was slowly breaking apart Tessa’s feelings of security and comfort. She didn’t understand how anyone could live so carefree, never knowing where he might land, but if anyone could enjoy it, she imagined Paul was the perfect fit for that lifestyle. But now his eyes looked full of uncertainty.
He broke the tension. “Since I’m still here, I’m going to eat. Mom will likely stuff me full of food, and I’ll need a nap before I attempt to leave again. My schedule is flexible. If you hear from your professor friend, let me know what he says about your thievery.”
“I’m not a thief. Iborrowedthis,” she explained. “I was going to take it back.”
“To the hole?”
“Yes.”
“I bet.”
She narrowed her eyes. She knew he was being playful, but her composure felt fractured and her emotions unwieldy. “I’m going to work.” She marched up the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
“Hey, Ms. Tessa, should Iborrowfood from the diner for you? Will you want something later?”
“I kind of loathe you right now,” she said without looking at him. “But I never turn down carbs.”
Paul’s laughter echoed down the sidewalk, rippled over her skin like a wave of heat, and shoved the fog ten feet away from them in every direction. She looked at him over her shoulder and saw him still smiling at her, and she wasn’t the least bit sorry he’d been the one to rescue her from the side of the road.
Tessa called the local mechanic, Norman Benson, and he promised he would tow the Great Pumpkin before nightfall. Their shop was backed up with calls from people who’d tried to brave the unusual weather and ended up in ditches all over town. Mr. Benson also told her he had received a call to tow a bulldozer for the first time ever. Tessa didn’t mention she had been there on Dogwood Lane when the bulldozer refused to cooperate.
At the office, she went through emails and returned phone calls. She had a few showings scheduled for late afternoon and early evening, but those clients wanted to reschedule because of the weather. Her entire schedule had been rearranged before noon, leaving her with a relatively open afternoon.
The insurance company had evaluated her car and, as expected, totaled it. They informed her paperwork and an insurance check should arrive within two weeks. Tessa pulled out her notebook and started a new list.What kind of car should I buy?She numbered down the side of the page and paused. Wasn’t it more important to focus on what kind of carshewanted rather than ask other people what she should buy? Apprehension slinked into her mind. Trusting her gut was unfamiliar, and what if her gutwas wrong?
A new email dinged its arrival and interrupted her thoughts. Professor Wenton McDougal wrote,Looks old. I forwarded the pictures (I hope you don’t mind) to one of my colleagues in the department, Austenaco (Austen) Blackstone, whose focus is Native American societies. He asked for your number, and I gave it to him (I hope you don’t mind). He said he would like to speak with you once his classes are done this morning. Hope all is well, Tessa.
Tessa’s cell phone rang, displaying a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
Austenaco “Austen” Blackstone introduced himself and explained how he’d come by her number. His interest in her findings was obvious within the first minute because he asked a lot of questions in quick succession. How heavy was the spear? Did it look old? Had the wood splintered? Was the arrowhead sharp? How deep were the carvings? What type of wood was it? Tessa could barely process one question before he asked another, and she had few answers to offer. Before she could object, Austen invited himself to Mystic Water to see the artifact in person and announced he would be there by late afternoon. Tessa ended the call and cut her eyes over to the spear leaning against the wall in her office.Now, why would anyone drive three hours on the spur of the moment to see a stick with an arrowhead point?
Tessa called Scrambled and asked Cecilia whether Paul was still there. Cecilia told her Paul had gone up to the apartment to take a nap more than an hour ago, and Cecilia slipped in the fact that she was hoping Paul would sleep so long that he wouldn’t leave town. Tessa imagined Paul as Rip Van Winkle, sleeping for twenty years on the couch in the apartment above the diner.
Cecilia asked Tessa to convince Paul to stick around for dinner, but Tessa wasn’t sure anyone could convince Paul to do anything he wasn’t interested in. Tessa dialed Paul’s cell number, and when he answered, his voice sounded delayed and sleepy, making her realize she’d woken him. She explained that Austen would be in town later in the day, and Paul said he wanted to hear what the anthropologist had to say. Relief swelled in her chest. As soon as she realized she was grinning like a love-struck teenager, she stopped herself. Why was she relieved that Paul wanted to wait around and hear about a stick?
Tessa worked a few more hours into the afternoon until Austen called her from the city limits sign. She gave him directions to the apartment and then closed down her computer for the day. She locked up the office, grabbed the dirty relic, and walked to the apartment.
Tessa couldn’t believe the sun hadn’t burned off the fog. It rippled across the streets, clung to the lampposts and street signs, and covered cars like misty blankets. People appeared out of the fog like ghosts, and Tessa paused at the diner’s garden. She pinched a bit of thyme between her fingers and let her imagination create the possibility of a world with magical herbs.
When she opened the apartment door, Paul was sitting on the couch, reading one of her paperback romance novels. He marked his place and put the book on the coffee table besideGuests of Honeysuckle Hollowand a pink bag from the candy shop.
He pointed at the romance novel. “I’m all for reading a variety of genres, but seriously, how can you read that?”
Tessa shrugged. “It’s better than real life.”
He tapped his finger against the cover. “So you want Greywolf to rescue you from a fort on the frontier and take you home to his teepee?”
Tessa snorted. “If that guy shows up at my door, he can take me anywhere.”
Paul picked up the pink bag and shook it. “I bought you more caramel creams, and I haven’t even eaten one for myself yet. I was waiting.”
“How gentlemanly of you.” Tessa dropped her purse onto the kitchen table and propped the spear against the bookshelf.
“I’m glad you appreciate my willpower. It wasn’t easy,” he said. “But now that you’re here . . .” Paul unrolled the bag and stuck his hand inside. “Ouch!” He yanked out his hand. He upended the bag onto the coffee table, spilling caramel creams across the surface. Tessa noticed one red object that did not belong. “What in the hell?” Paul lifted a heart-shaped pushpin from the table.
Tessa’s eyes widened. “That was in the bag?” Her eyes darted toward the wall map and then back to Paul.
