“Take your time. We have all day.”
Harper slanted her eyes at her sister. “You’re not going to believe this, but Mitch next door is Mitchell Ripley.”
Frankie blinked in utter amazement. “TheMitchell Ripley? Author of the Blackstone Detective Agency? And The Hourglass Chronicles? That Mitchell Ripley.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my stars. What’s he like? Is he nice? Is he as handsome in real life as he is in pictures? You have met him, right? I can’t believe you live next door to the best author in the world.”
“Slow your roll, Frankie. The man is kind of…not nice at all. He’s a big grump and a real meanie.”
“A meanie?” Frankie lifted her brows. “What are you, nine?”
“I’m just telling you he’s not some great guy. He’s been nothing but cranky every time I’ve talked to him. He was staring at me through the trees on the property line when I first got here. Questioning who I was and what I was doing on this property.”
Frankie laughed. “He was staring, was he? Were you wearing those denim cutoffs you had on yesterday?”
“I…don’t remember. That’s not the point.”
“Well, I can see him being curious about a stranger. This is a pretty exclusive area. Maybe he’s the captain of the neighborhood watch.”
Harper’s lips pursed in obvious disdain. “I doubt that. When I went to deliver a letter to him, he was rude and dismissive.”
“A fan letter?” Frankie teased.
“No, you dope, a letter from Arlington.” Harper inhaled more coffee like it was the only thing keeping her going. “Apparently the two of them were friends and Arlington left it for me to take to Mitch. Don’t ask me why.”
“Why?”
Harper grunted. “Arlington wants me to befriend Mitch. It was one of his last wishes.”
“You can’t ignore a death-bed request.”
“It’s not exactly a death-bed request, but I get what you’re saying.”
“So what happened last night?”
“I couldn’t sleep and once Archie saw I was up, he decided he needed to go out. So I took him, but he ended up bolting after a racoon, which he treed in Mitch’s backyard. Mitch came out on his deck and told me I was trespassing.”
Frankie looked her sister up and down. “Were you in your nightgown?”
Harper groaned. “Yes.”
Frankie wiggled her finger up and down in Harper’s direction. “This same nightgown?”
“Yes. Why?” Harper glanced down, paused, and groaned louder. “For crying out loud.”
Frankie laughed. The nightshirt said,I’mAwesome In Bed,in big, bold letters; underneath, in much smaller print, it read,I can sleep for hours. “I’m sure you made a big impression on him.”
“He already hates me. But I take consolation in the fact that apparently he hates everyone. Joyce said he never recovered from his wife’s death, and then when Arlington died, Mitch really went into a funk.”
Frankie nodded sympathetically. “Grief affects everyone differently. I bet his writing is a real comfort to him. You know, a place he can escape to. His own world.”
“Maybe.” Harper didn’t sound convinced. She pried the lid off the oatmeal bars and held the container out to Frankie.
Frankie took one. Harper returned the container to her lap and took one for herself. She bit into it and made a happy sound.
Frankie tried hers. It was very good. There was a layer of jam sandwiched between a kind of shortbread on the bottom and a crumbly oatmeal streusel on the top. “I hope I get to meet Joyce so I can tell her how good these are.”
