Natalie was too levelheaded to keep anyone of dubious character on the premises.
Wasn’t she?
Wiping her palms down her capris, Cara continued toward the cottage, keeping tabs on her surroundings.
Though the man had disappeared, she didn’t linger at the door. She let herself in and slid the bolt into place behind her.
Another mystery to add to the growing list on this isolated property.
But this was one she’d solve sooner rather than later. Come Monday morning, when she and Natalie sat down to begin work for the week, she was going to straight out ask about the man who’d been hovering in the shadows by the cottage.
Because receptive as she was to this off-the-beaten-track adventure and its unexpectedly intriguing nuances, she wasn’t in the market for hazardous duty.
“I WONDERED WHERE YOU WERE.”
As his wife slipped out the back door and joined him on the porch, Paul closed the book he was reading. “I decidedto take advantage of the cooler weather after the rain this morning.”
“It did take the edge off the heat.” Becky sat in the wicker chair beside him and held out a frosty glass. “Fresh-squeezed lemonade. Can I tempt you?”
He smiled. “Always.”
The dimple he loved appeared in her cheek. “You’re a sweet talker, Paul Coleman. Are you certain you don’t have a touch of blarney somewhere in your DNA?”
“I might—on my father’s side. But thanks to the French heritage I have from my mother, I know how to recognize—and appreciate—a pretty woman.”
She reached for his hand. Gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you still see me that way after all these years.”
“Beauty, like a fine wine, only becomes better with time.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her glass toward him, leaned back in her chair, and motioned toward the volume on his lap. “Another book Natalie loaned you?”
“Yes. Due back tomorrow. I was hoping to finish it this afternoon.”
“She has quite a collection.” Becky sipped her lemonade. “I imagine the professor who’s visiting for the semester is in seventh heaven.”
“I would be, in her shoes.”
“You think Natalie will donate the journals to the historical society after they finish their project?”
“I hope so ...ifthey finish. Sounds like it’s slow going.”
“I’m not surprised. Speaking Paw Paw is rare enough these days. I can’t imagine trying to decipher the written word. The girl who wrote those journals had to be making it up as she went along.”
“That’s why the journals and the translation are so valuable.” And dangerous.
He took a long swallow of his lemonade.
Becky didn’t need to worry about that, though. Not yet. Not while he was still hopeful he could avert a crisis.
All he had to do was get the journals into his hands before Natalie and the professor got too close to the end. And given their slow pace, he should have a window to get that done.
Natalie’s dizzy spells were also working to his advantage. Every delay and distraction had the potential to slow down the translation process.
“I’m sure Natalie will follow through on her promise to donate them.” Becky swirled the ice in her glass. “It was her father’s wish, and from what I’ve heard about her, she always honors her promises.”
“That’s true.”
But the donation would have happened by now if that professor hadn’t come along and messed up all the groundwork he’d begun laying months ago. Natalie had been on the verge of letting him put the volumes in a climate-controlled environment until she was ready to translate them.
