“Killed Tobias Worthington.” He let out a slow breath. “He went to jail for a spell. And the town, well ...” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the grudges the town held. How just carrying the Harlow name turned him into some sort of villain.
“They never let you forget, do they?” Cora finished quietly. “So that’s why everyone treats your family like you’re, what, cursed or something?” Cora asked, unable to keep the indignation out of her voice. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t blame someone for something their grandfather did before they were even born.”
Her sudden defense of his family had him slack-jawed. Nobody ever stood up for a Harlow. They just assumed the Harlows were in the wrong.
“And the Worthingtons have never let anyone forget it,” he said.
Cora’s spoon clinked against her bowl as she set it down, eyes narrowing in thought. “So if your grandfather killed Tobias, why would Lolly go to the Worthingtons for a loan when she was friends with your gramps? And why wouldn’t your grandfather say something?”
She was relentless, and he liked that about her. She didn’t let anything go until it made sense.
“That’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if he was even aware of the loan. Maybe whatever happened between him and Tobias is why he never wanted me involved. Or it’s possible he did know and couldn’t bring himself to tell me about it.”
Cora sat quietly for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. He felt the tension building, like a storm on the horizon, and he braced himself for her reaction, for whatever she was going to say next.
“We need answers.”
“It was a long time ago, Cora. How would we even get answers now? We can’t Facebook-stalk them like normal people.”
She licked her spoon in a way that made him lose his train of thought. “Who needs Facebook?” she said with a grin. “We’ve got the best information source around.”
“What’s that?”
“The grapevine,” she said, grinning wider. “Sunrise is a small town, and there’s nothing people here like more than gossip. Someone’s got to have some information. We just have to find the right person to ask.”
He groaned. “You want us to gossip with a bunch of old ladies? That’s your master plan?”
Cora threw a napkin at him. “You make it sound like we’re going to storm a castle. It’s a visit to the bridge club, and maybe the senior center. I’m pretty sure we’ll survive.”
He held up his hands. “Fine. Little-old-lady interrogation it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Cora and Jack strolled along the Sunrise waterfront where the smell of fresh coffee and warm donuts mixed with the crisp sea air. Cora bit into her glazed donut, savoring the sugary sweetness as they walked past shops that were beginning to open. She had a brown paper bag filled with extras swinging from her arm, which felt like a guarantee for a good day.
Jack balanced his coffee in one hand and tried to wipe powdered sugar off his jeans with the other. “So, what’s our game plan? Grab some unsuspecting seniors and shake them down for gossip?”
“Please. I’m more subtle than that. We’re going to be casual, make some small talk, and let the information come to us.”
“Ah, the oldstand around and look prettystrategy. Good thing I’ve mastered that one.” He struck a mock-heroic pose, puffing out his chest in a way that earned a laugh from Cora and a bewildered glance from a passing jogger.
“You’re impossible,” she said.
As they continued along the waterfront, Cora spotted a familiar group of old men outside the bait shop. They werehuddled around a weathered table, its paint chipped and sun-bleached to the color of dried shrimp shells.
The men were playing a loosely defined game of checkers, each holding an old metal cup of coffee. Their clothes were a mix of flannel and denim that had probably seen decades of use. They sat in their regular spots as if nothing had changed in years, the air around them buzzing with their lively banter. Unless a hurricane hit or someone was giving away free beer at the hardware store, they’d be there every weekday morning, as reliable as the tide.
Cora nudged Jack and nodded toward the group. “Change of plans. We’re not hitting the bridge club. We’re going directly to the town’s best source of news.”
Jack squinted at the men, a puzzled look crossing his face. “I thought we were on the hunt for the gossipy ladies?”
“That would have been a rookie mistake,” Cora said. “These gentlemen are the real deal. If there’s dirt to be found, they’ve got it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re telling me those guys gossip more than the little old ladies?”
“Way more,” she assured him. “They’ve got nothing better to do than drink coffee and talk. No filters, no shame.”
As they approached, Mr. Jenkins held up a checker piece, squinting into the sun. “Hold on, Earl,” he said to the man across from him. “You can’t jump three spaces in one move. What do you think this is, hopscotch?”
