“It sounds like you were pretty thorough. Listen, I’m just about done for the day. I’ll head downtown in a bit and ask around. I know a few people who work in the area. Maybe we’ll hit pay dirt. Want to tag along?”
Her heart thumped at the invitation. After all, they’d worked together so far, and it was nice that he wanted to keep it that way. “I’d love to... but I have a date tonight.” She wasn’t sure why she’d used that word, but she couldn’t seem to keep herself from testing the waters. And maybe it had its desired effect, because there was a long pause before he responded.
“On a Tuesday night?” His voice gave nothing away.
She chuckled. “It’s your sister’s only free night this week. We’re going shopping for wedding clothes.”
“Oh...”
“What’s wrong? Afraid she’s going to divulge your deepest, darkest secrets?”
“Actually I’m shocked she has any interest in shopping at all. She’s always been kind of a tomboy.”
“Well, it was her idea and I wasn’t about to turn her down. It’s no fun to shop alone.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Listen, I’m at my next job. I’ll keep you apprised on my investigation.”
“I’ll keep you apprised on my shopping venture.”
“Not necessary,” he said drolly.
Twenty-Four
At the heart of every romance novel is the concept of thwarted desire.
—Romance Writing 101
Sam walked with purpose toward his truck. It was getting later in the day and businesses were starting to close. He’d already stopped by PJ’s Clam Shack and spoken with PJ herself. She’d known William Brown only vaguely and had no idea if he had family in the area. But she did confirm he went by “Will.” The manager on staff at Billy’s Bar had never met Will Brown.
Finally, Sam realized that the building’s previous retail tenant, the owner of the hair salon, definitely would have known her own landlord. But the salon had apparently moved across the island.
When he reached his truck he got in and headed that way. He thought of Sadie and Hayley, even now hitting the stores in search of wedding clothes. He wasn’t worried anymore that Hayley would divulge his previous relationship with Amanda.She seemed to understand the hurt and humiliation the whole situation had caused him. And while embarrassing him was one of her favorite pastimes, she’d never humiliate him.
Sadie was probably wondering about his progress, but he didn’t want to update her until he had something positive to share. When they began this venture he hadn’t dreamed it would be this hard to hunt down that book’s owner. And he’d never dreamed that making Sadie happy would come to mean so much to him.
He didn’t want to let her down.
He let that thought soak in for a long minute. When had pleasing Sadie become so important to him? She was such a positive person by nature. It had been hard to see her disappointed this morning. He’d felt like a failure when he’d been unable to make a connection at the bank that would loosen that red tape.
Sadie was obviously coming to mean something to him, and he’d already decided he shouldn’t pursue that relationship—despite how nice that hug had felt last night.
He shook the memory from his mind. They’d solve this mystery, then he would leave her alone. With any luck she’d have a book to write, and surely that would consume the rest of the summer.
Of course, there was also the upcoming wedding. There was no way he was attending that alone. He’d just have to stay strong. Keep the relationship on friendly terms.
How hard could it be?
A few minutes later he turned into the parking lot of the Hair Gallery. A Cape Cod home had been transformed into a business. Conforming with the island’s pastel palette, it was painted sea green and trimmed in white. The wide porch was welcoming andbore a hanging shingle with the names of the salon and business owner.
He entered the building and found a wide-open first floor decorated in neutral shades. A blow-dryer hummed in the distance, and the scents of eucalyptus and lemongrass teased his nose. A few hairdressers buzzed around their stations, but he stepped up to an old fireplace façade that had been repurposed as a front desk.
A twentysomething woman with an airbrushed face and at least three sets of earrings greeted him. Her blood-red lips parted in a professional smile. “Hello, welcome to the Hair Gallery. Need a trim? We’re a little backed up right now, but we could get you in, say, in twenty minutes?”
“Thank you, but I’m not here for a cut. I was actually wondering if I might speak with Chantilly Thomas?”
The woman tucked her short bleached-blonde hair behind her ear. “That would be me. But it’s just Tilly. What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Sam Ford. I work here on the island, and I’m trying to find a phone number for your former landlord, Will Brown. I thought you might be able to help me.”
