“Books to you?” I snapped, no longer caring about his guest status.
“Oh, I’d love to pick up a few of those treasures”—Lincoln motioned toward the books on the desk—“but that wasn’t what I was implying.”
“Okay, so what exactlyareyou suggesting?”
“That you could lose Chapters if everything came to light. And I’d hate to see that.” Lincoln’s smile broadened. “I really would.”
I examined the bookdealer for a moment as I collected my thoughts. It was obvious that he was attempting to blackmail me over some indiscretion from my great-aunt’s past. Perhaps not for money, though. Although he hadn’t come right out and asked me to sell him some valuable volumes from the library for next to nothing, I suspected he’d be demanding that soon enough.
I thrust back my shoulders and looked Lincoln in the eye. I had no plans to sell anything, despite whatever dirty secrets he’d dug up on my great-aunt. But before I rejected his little scheme outright, I decided to do some sleuthing of my own. If I could uncover whatever he considered so damaging, and proactively diffuse that bomb …
“You must’ve misunderstood. I’m sure there’s nothing in my great-aunt’s past that could possibly lead to such a disastrous consequence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to work. Please, leave the books you’ve pulled on the desk. I will reshelve them later.” I left the room, but paused in the hall to call back at him, “And stay off that ladder. The last thing I want to deal with is a dead guest.”
Chapter Three
I abandoned my dream of a peaceful hour spent reading in my room and walked back into the kitchen to question Alicia. Maybe I could pry enough information out of her to dismiss Lincoln Delamont’s hints of scandal.
“I just had the most unpleasant encounter.”
“With that Delamont fellow?” Alicia asked, without glancing up from a short stack of lunch-request forms.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Saw him head for the library right after breakfast. Figured he was going to check out the books, being a dealer and all.” Alicia looked up at me, her dark-brown eyes narrowed. “He’s a right royal pain, if you ask me.”
“I have to agree with you on that point.” I crossed to the counter where Alicia was working and rested my hip against the lower cabinet. “I was just wondering—you worked for my great-aunt from the beginning, didn’t you? I mean, from the moment she converted this house into a bed-and- breakfast?”
Alicia tapped the pen she was holding against her palm. “Yes, she hired me in 1983, right before she opened the doors to guests.” She fixed me with an intent stare. “Why are you asking?”
“Oh, Lincoln Delamont mentioned something …” I shook my head. “He seems to think there are some skeletons rattling around in Great-Aunt Isabella’s past. Some stuff that could be damaging if the truth were to be exposed. You don’t have any inkling as to what that might be, do you?”
Alicia dropped her gaze as well as the pen. “Nope. Can’t think of a thing.”
“I just thought … well, if therewassomething, maybe I could take care of the situation before Mr. Delamont decides to spread rumors.” I tapped my fingernails against the charcoal-gray soapstone countertop, hoping to draw the housekeeper’s attention, but Alicia kept her gaze focused on the lunch requests. “I appreciate your loyalty to my great-aunt, but it’s really better if I know, whatever it might be. I mean, if thereareany scandals in her past.”
“There aren’t. Leastwise, I don’t know of any.” As Alicia tugged on the hairnet again, the plastic gemstones flashed in the bright light falling from the tall kitchen windows.
I stared at the older woman’s implacable profile. Alicia was always more than willing to tell me how Isabella had done things, especially in terms of managing the bed-and-breakfast, but getting any other information from her was like wringing water from a stone. “If it makes any difference, I already know Isabella had something of a wild past. At least if what my Grandma Ruth always said is true.”
Alicia cast me a side-eyed glance. “Nice way to talk about her own sister. Anyway, I wouldn’t know much about that. As I said, I didn’t start working for Isabella until 1983. She must’ve been close to sixty at that point, and while she was always spry, even up until right before she died at ninety-two, she was never what I’d call wild. Energetic and charming, yes. But not wild.”
I did a quick mental calculation. “Yes, she would’ve been fifty-seven in 1983.” I tapped the countertop with my fingers. “Funny, I never thought about it before, but she started a business when most people would be about ready to retire.”
“Necessity, I always figured,” Alicia said, her focus back on her lunch requests. “Ran out of cash or something, so she decided to turn her home into a paying concern.”
“Grandma’s theory was that Isabella was just bored, but you could be right.” I gazed around the impressive kitchen. “Even though, according to Grandma, the house was paid for, I suspect maintaining this place without any return on investment could drain a bank account pretty fast.” I frowned, thinking of Lincoln Delamont’s insinuations. “If you want to know the truth, my family never figured out how she was able to buy this place and live here for twenty-five years without any real income. Especially since she was supposedly a social butterfly who threw lavish parties.”
“Don’t look at me, I have no idea. Although I do remember the parties.” Alicia shot me a quick glance. “Not that I ever attended any, of course. But my mom worked for a local catering company when I was teenager. Mama used to serve at some of Isabella’s parties, and she’d come home and tell me and my sisters about the rich and famous people she saw here. Actors andpoliticians and wealthy businessmen and folks like that.” Alicia shook her head. “In little old Beaufort, no less.”
“Really?” I stood up straighter. “I knew she gave a lot of parties in the years before she turned the house into Chapters, but I had no idea she was entertaining celebrities. I wonder how she met them?”
“That’s the question all of Beaufort was asking, back when I was young,” Alicia said. “Isabella was beautiful and charming, but she must’ve had some connection who introduced her into such circles. I mean, this town has a long and respectable history, but it’s not exactly cosmopolitan.”
I considered this for a moment. “Maybe part of the attraction was getting away from the city? Enjoying a taste of small-town life near the sea?”
Alicia laid aside one lunch request. “Could be. I just know it always baffled us regular folk in town. While it was going on, but even more so when it all stopped. Just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“no more parties. Then Isabella up and converted her house into a bed-and-breakfast about a year later. Which is why I figured it was a money issue.”
“That’s certainly possible, I suppose.” I traced a figure eight on the countertop. “But if there were numerous wealthy and famous people at these parties, maybe this secret scandal is related to one of them somehow.”
