An antique silver pot with two china mugs awaited them under a covered porch. Ingrid quickly filled a vase with water, and the tiger lilies brightened her rustic farm table.
Harper nodded toward the seemingly endless stalks of wheat paving the hillside. “Have you ever lost anyone in your fields?”
“Not for long. Our kids loved to play in them many moons ago, but even the grandchildren are too old for that now. My one great granddaughter lives in Texas.”
The grain shivered in a breeze, flooding the porch with its earthy aroma. “It would be a fantastic place to hide.”
“Are you enjoying your stay?” Ingrid poured her a steaming cup of coffee before offering a bowl of brown sugar cubes and an elegant creamer with milk.
“I am.” More than she’d ever imagined when she boarded the plane for Philly.
“I think the world of Gerald and Marcia.”
“They’ve been very kind to me.” Harper held the mug up to her nose and inhaled the steam, savoring the aroma like Ingrid with the tiger lilies. “This is glorious.”
“Eli always started his day with a strong cup. He used to roast beans in a popcorn popper, and I’ve done my best to keep up the tradition.” Ingrid took a long sip like her mug contained a bottomless collection of memories. “He’s been gone for almost ten years and I still think of him first thing every morning.”
“What a lovely way to remember your husband.” Harper sipped the brew like her hostess. “This has to be the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”
Ingrid glowed with her compliment.
“And you make an amazing stew.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Ingrid said. “You mentioned something about one of Eli’s books. I’m curious to know how I can help.”
“I just finishedLady of the Lake.” Harper inched forward on her seat. “And I’d like to know more about Via Belle.”
Ingrid’s coffee splashed as she placed her cup back on the tray. “Oh dear.”
Harper sighed. “That seems to be almost everyone’s response in Catawba.”
“I’m afraid not much can be said about her.”
“I’m a—” Harper paused, wondering to herself what she was these days. “I’ve been talking to a Hollywood director about making a movie based on Olivia’s life.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“So many reasons,” Harper said. “She was a much-loved novelist who built a mysterious old house, married a soldier during World War II, and then disappeared. Her entire life is intriguing.”
Not to mention the supposed ghosts haunting Haven House.
Ingrid studied her. “There are many compelling stories out there.”
“This one’s also personal.” Harper took another sip. “My mom grew up near here, and we used to read Via Belle’s books together. I guess I want to share that experience in some way with others.”
“Your mother is gone now?”
Harper nodded. “She died last year.”
“A movie would be a lovely tribute, but Finn is the person you should speak with. He manages everything with Olivia’s books.”
“I’m afraid he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea.”
“I’m sorry that I can’t help you more.” Ingrid scanned her forest of grain as if she could find resolution among the stalks. “Olivia meant a lot to my husband.”
Harper had so many questions but decided to start at the beginning. “Was Eli able to meet her?”
Ingrid pondered the question before answering. “Olivia actually took him under her wing when he was young. Did you know he was orphaned as a child?”
