Lisanne slapped it. “Great, because I’ve got some gossip for you.”
Nadine laughed again, happy to have the conversation successfully concluded. “What?”
“Rumor says Olivia Majors is going to be taking over theHeraldfrom her father.”
“Huh.” Nadine drained her glass. “Interesting. Didn’t she work in banking or something?”
“Guess she got bored.”
They went back in, swapping stories about Olivia, and refilled their glasses before moving to the front to look at the fountain. The vibe between them wasn’t perfect, but it was better. Much better.
“So,” said Lisanne, settling on the bench surrounding the fountain. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Nadine gave her the summary, starting with her conversation with Irina and including all the Wes stuff. Even when glossing over the details of their investigation, there was a lot. Lisanne dangled her hand in the fountain, her eyebrows getting higher as Nadine went on.
When she finished and had answered Lisanne’s questions, Lisanne splashed her. “You’re with Wes then?” She laughed. “I knew it when you were getting all misty-eyed at the bar.”
“Shut up.” Nadine cleared her throat. “Tell me about your story.”
Lisanne was cautious at first, casting Nadine little glances to check her reaction, but Nadine was on her best behavior, and the shame over her outburst soon faded. This was the reason she was in journalism, and it felt a bit like coming alive again.
“Scummy,” she said after Lisanne had leaned in to share one of her latest findings.
“They are.” She shook her head. “But we’re going to make sure people know.”
Nadine toasted her. “You can do it.”
Wes came to the door. “I made a cheese platter if you want some,” he called.
The two women jumped to their feet. “I’ve got time until I sober up enough to drive,” said Lisanne. “Mind if I hang around?”
“I’d love that.”
Lisanne nudged her. “No talking about work though, okay? Wes might be your collaborator, but he’s not mine.”
“We’ll talk about hockey and fancy mustards.”
“I can barely name three teams, and I buy the bright yellow squeeze bottles. How about mycology and Mercator maps?”
“Yo-yos and sailing knots?”
They were still laughing when they descended on Wes’s cheese tray and then laughed harder when they saw he’d put elegant swirls of several mustards on the plate.
It was good to have Lisanne back.
Thirty-seven
When Nadine walked into the kitchen for lunch after a wearisome morning rechecking the house, Wes saw she was in dire need of a break. Her hair was pulled up in a bun that fell half down in the back, and her mouth had a small pout he wanted to kiss away.
So he did.
“We only have two days left.” Nadine sagged against him, and he lugged her to the sink to wash her hands.
“I know,” he said. “You’ll feel better after you eat. I used the last of the Camembert for sandwiches, and the tomatoes in the salad are warm from the garden.”
That perked her up the way he knew it would. For a change, he’d set lunch on the island instead of the table near the window. Nadine bit into the sandwich, and a chunk of cheese slid out, off her plate, and onto the floor.
“Erma, get away from that.” Nadine hopped down from the stool to fight the cat for the cheese.
