“You’re not serious!”
“Well, maybe not. But still … it was weird.” She made a face accordingly. “I could have sworn I’d put certain things in certain places at home, and they were still there, just … shifted somehow.”
Beth leaned back against the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. She might have been a psychiatrist for the indulgent tone of her voice. “I think you’re going to have to be more specific. In what ways were they ‘shifted’?”
“Small ways. A bottle of perfume turned around so that the sculpted bird faced the wall. A pair of shoes neatly set in the closet, with the right shoe on the left and the left one on the right. A pair of underpants perfectly folded, but inside out. I always turn them the right way before I fold them.Underpants.” She shuddered, then whispered in dismay, “Can you believe it?”
“Maybe you should call the police.”
“I thought about that, but I feel like a fool! I mean, it’s not as if anything were taken. The locks on the doors were intact, and as far as I could tell, none of the windows had been jimmied open. Ruling out a breaking and entering, I’d say someone might have just walked in, except that I’m the only one with a key.”
“How about the realtor who sold you the place?”
“I had the locks changed right after I moved in.” Lauren gave a guttural laugh. “That’s about all I’ve done, but it does preclude a human visitor.” She took a deep breath. “So either itwasa ghost, or I’m simply not as meticulous about things as I used to be. Maybe that’s it. I mean, I suppose I have been preoccupied with the shop. It’s very possible that I wasn’t paying attention when I put the perfume bottle back or took the shoes off or folded the laundry.” She looked beseechingly at Beth. “So what are the police going to say?”
“Mmm. I see your point. Maybe you should get a dog.”
“One encounter with a dog on my property was enough.”
“Then a burglar alarm system.”
“A burglar alarm isn’t going to stop a ghost. And it sure isn’t going to improve my own absentmindedness, if that’s what it was.” She reached for a clean mug and poured herself some coffee. When she looked up to find a smug smile spreading over Beth’s face, she scowled. “Now what are you thinking?”
“That I was right all along. Matthew Kruger may be just the one to protect you. All you have to do is to coax him along. Before you know it, he’ll be thinking of that farmhouse as his second home.”
“Matt is going back to San Francisco. How many times must I tell you that? And even if he wasn’t, I can’t use the man that way.”
“Seems to me he’d get something out of the arrangement.”
“Humph. When—and if—I take a live-in lover, it’ll be because I truly adore whoever he is, not because I need him as a bodyguard.”
“You could truly adore your bodyguard.”
Lauren sank into a chair and raised her mug. She spoke slowly and distinctly, as though her friend might not understand her otherwise. “I am going to drink my coffee now and gather my thoughts. Then I am going to face this new day with a bright smile and a free mind.” She closed her eyes, brought the mug to her lips, sipped the coffee, then sighed.
Somewhere between the sip and sigh, Beth gave up on her and left the room.
The shop grew busier as the noon hour approached, and Jamie’s arrival at one was a relief. Beth ran out to pick up sandwiches, returning shortly thereafter with news far more interesting than that the rye bread had caraway seeds.
“Have you looked outside lately?” she murmured excitedly to Lauren as she passed on her way to the back room.
Lauren had been helping a customer decide which of two silk-screen prints to buy. She glanced toward the front window.
Matt. Sitting on the bench she was coming to think of as his. Reading a book.
Reading a book? That was a novel approach! Not that she doubted he was a reader; he looked more than comfortable with the paperback in his hand. But reading a book in the middle of the bustling Marketplace and on that particular bench? What was he thinking? What did he want?
She returned her attention to her customer, pleased that in the minute she’d been distracted he’d decided on the print she’d originally recommended. Decisions on its framing proved to be more difficult, what with so many different mat boards and frames to choose from, but Lauren didn’t mind. This was the part of the job she really enjoyed, and the shop made far more money on matting and framing than on the sale of the prints themselves.
It was only after she’d written up the customer’s order, taken a deposit and let her gaze follow him to the door that she glanced again at the bench outside.
Matt was still reading.
Beth, who’d finished her lunch and come to relieve Lauren, was perplexed. “What’s he doing out there?”
“Reading, obviously.”
“But what’s hereallydoing?”
