“Goodness, no. Micah Reeves wouldn’t hurt a flea. Why do you ask?”
Cara shrugged. “I’m not used to people who fade into the woods whenever I see them.”
“That’s just how he is. It’s nothing personal. He’s not sociable with anyone.” Natalie poured a smidgen of cream into her tea and replaced the container in the fridge. “My cousin, on the other hand, is very sociable. Don’t you think so?”
At the speculative gleam in her eyes, Cara tried not to squirm. Natalie must have picked up on Steven’s interest in a certain professor.
And if that was the case, it wouldn’t be prudent to probe for additional information about him, much as she’d like to know more. Questions could add fuel to the fire if Natalie was getting matchmaking ideas.
Keeping her manner casual, Cara pushed off from the counter and moved to the sink to rinse her hands. “Yes. I enjoyed our hike.”
“He did too. I got the impression he was quite enamored with you. I think he expected my professor to be a much older woman—like you expected him to be the grandfatherly type.”
“It goes to show you should never make assumptions about people.”
“Yes. There’s a definite lesson there.” She took a sip of her tea. “By the way, he’s not married. Never has been. Claims he hasn’t met the right woman. But he’d be a fine catch. He’s smart and personable and has a very successful business as a financial advisor.”
While that background answered a couple of her questions about Steven, it also confirmed her benefactor’s proclivity to matchmaking.
“Not all men get married, though. I don’t think the sheriff has a wife either, does he?” Perhaps shifting the focus to the third man she was curious about would distract Natalie.
Some of the brightness in the other woman’s face faded. “Not anymore. Such a sad story. I’ve only picked up bits and pieces of it since I don’t go into town that much and prefer to avoid gossip, but everyone was buzzing about it at the time and—” She set her tea on the counter and pulled out her phone. “Ah. It’s Paul.”
Quashing her disappointment at the interruption, Cara picked up her laptop and motioned toward the door. “I’ll wait for you in the study.”
“I won’t be long.”
While the older woman answered the call, Cara wandered down the hall, let herself into the study, and booted up her laptop.
So Brad Mitchell wasn’t married anymore. Why not? And what was the sad story Natalie had referenced?
Maybe she could make a few subtle inquiries about him if the opportunity arose.
As for Steven and Micah, the former sounded like a fine man and the latter appeared to be far from menacing.
Meaning she had no excuse not to add a daily walk to her schedule, along with the stretching routine she’d neglected during her first week here.
Cara scrolled through to the translation document and opened it as Natalie came through the door.
“Sorry for the delay. Paul heard about the fire from the sheriff, who called to ask him a few questions. He wanted to check on me—and continue his campaign to convince me to turn over Marie’s journals to the historical society for safekeeping.” She limped over to her place on the other side of the table. “After last night, I’m beginning to think his suggestion has merit. I would hate for the journals to be damaged or destroyed. And that’s where they’re going to end up anyway.”
“You’re donating them?”
“Yes. It was Papa’s wish, after they were translated.”
“Which won’t be much longer. And after all the decades they’ve been safely stored on the premises, what are the odds that anything would happen to them while I’m here? The fire was an anomaly.”
“I hope so. But I could let Paul have the later journals until we’re ready to work on them, on the off chance there are any other strange occurrences.”
“I don’t see any harm in doing that if it gives you more peace of mind.”
“Unless we want to look ahead for some reason as we go. Then it would be most inconvenient.” Natalie opened the journal in front of her to the page where they’d left off on Friday. “I’ll have to think about this. In the meantime, let’s get back to—” Her cell began to trill, and she pulled it out. Scanned the screen. “Steven. Give me one minute?”
“Of course.” Cara started to stand. “I can wait in the hall until—”
“No, stay there.” Natalie waved her back into her seat. “We’ve had too many delays this morning. I’ll keep this short.” She put the phone to her ear. “Good morning, Steven. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon after your visit ... No, I haven’t had any more dizzy spells. I feel fine ... Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the phone. I went to bed early ... No, nothing like that. We had a little excitement here.”
As Natalie briefed her cousin on the events of the evening and answered his questions, Cara read over the transcription. But it was impossible to tune out the conversation.
