Stone hit a button to open his Lamborghini doors for us—they opened straight up instead of out.
“They’re called scissor doors,” he explained, slipping into his seat.
I slid into the low seat that seemed molded to my body, admiring the color-coordinated interior that was as much a sleek work of art as the exterior. The car controls were unusual, but Stone had an expert touch with them. He smoothly backed up and whipped down the driveway.
On our back road, he gave the car a burst of speed, and I fell back against the seat, laughing. I laughed even harder when he hit a particularly deep rut, making him swear under his breath. New York winters were not easy on the roads.
Regaining his poise, he asked which way the town was and I instructed him to go right at the stop sign. He glanced over at me.
“You look like you’re doing well,” he said, with a slight note of wonderment.
“This is my home,” I said defensively. “I would hope I looked well here.”
“Your parents seem nice,” he continued. “Who were your guests?”
“Just a family from church and my parents’ neighbor.” I didn’t elaborate that I was working on checking into some local murders, although I doubted Stone would disapprove.
As we pulled up to the curb on Main Street, he attempted to parallel park the Lamborghini. It was by far the most crooked parking job I’d ever seen, but I had a feeling the locals would give a car that gorgeous a wide berth when driving past it.
As we walked into Literary Lattes, I watched the Stone Effect as if seeing it for the first time. In Greenwich, he looked like any other preppy rich guy, but here in Larches Corner, he looked like a complete alien. Tall, dark, and handsome, he looked like a modern-day Remington Steele.
Women peeked out from behind bookshelves, as if sensing his presence. The waitress sped over to our table, and she seemed to hang on Stone’s every word.
When she left to fill our order—an espresso for Stone and a coffee with cream and sugar for me—I grabbed a nearby checkers board and started setting it up. I had some futile notion that if I kept my eyes on the game board, I wouldn’t get swept into Stone’s warm, aquamarine gaze.
But I did, because even as I started jumping his black pieces, he pulled me into conversation, as he always did.
“Big news,” he said. “Red got engaged!”
Of course, I’d known it was coming, but I felt a little disappointed that Red hadn’t waited until I was around to pop the question to Susan. Not that he had any obligation to do so.
“I’m sure Susan’s thrilled,” I said. “I wonder if she’ll bake her own wedding cake?”
“It’d be delicious.” He pushed his piece onto my back row and said, “King me!”
I sipped at my coffee, which had cooled quickly. Locals were alternating staring at us and gaping out the window at Stone’s car. I could almost hear the gossip mill whirring to life—spreading news that the vet’s daughter had finally tapped into her potential and snagged a big fish.
Was this the life I wanted? Jetting around in a car that cost more than most Larches Corner residents made in a year? Although I supposed Peter Bear’s family or the Meiers had probably achieved that level of wealth.
“I’m throwing a billiards party this Friday for Red and Susan,” Stone continued. His hand hovered over the board. “You think you might be able to make it? I know it would mean so much to them.”
And that was all it took to whisk my mind and heart back to Greenwich. Back to the cozy stone carriage house I was renting, back to my pet-sitting clients, and back to my friends. I’d built a life there, even though lately I’d been distanced from it.
I felt a pang. I didn’t want to miss Red and Susan’s party. Red was always looking out for me, and Susan offered her friendship the moment I’d met her.
“I’ll try.”
After a couple more checkers rounds and cups of coffee, Stone admitted that he needed to hit the road, since he had work to finish this weekend.
On the way home, I pointed out various local landmarks to Stone, and he seemed to soak up the impromptu New York history lesson. We had a kind of camaraderie that seemed to energize me every time I was around him. But after spending hours alone with him—which we rarely had time to do in Greenwich—I was starting to realize something.
I didn’t really think of Stone as a love interest. I mean, what single woman wouldn’t fall for a bouquet of lush roses, a ride in a Lamborghini, and coffee and quality time spent with a man who was more than a head-turner—he was kind and attentive.
But I hadn’t. I couldn’t see myself marrying Stone, not by a long shot. Sure, he could provide for me, above and beyond the standard of living I’d grown up with. We’d have fun—such glorious fun—traveling and seeing the world together. He was a risk-taker, like I was. But I was starting to see that he was too similar to me. We enjoyed all the same things. We looked at the world in much the same way.
I had started to want the kind of man I probably needed.
And that was the kind of man who wasn’t an open book. A man who was a risk-taker in his own right, but who was personally wounded when I put myself in harm’s way. A man who had a long-term plan for life and knew exactly what he wanted. A leader.
I glanced at Stone. He turned and smiled, sunlight filtering through his hair. Had he harbored hopes that we’d get together? Had he come all this way to try to woo me?
I wasn’t sure, but if that were the case, he was going to end up disappointed.
* * * *
As we pulled up my parents’ drive, I was surprised to see that although the van Dusens’ car was gone, Jonas’s truck was still there. When Stone cut the engine, I lingered in the comfy car seat, not at all certain I was ready to go inside.
It was easy to imagine a standoff might occur between the two men in my life. Would we have a full-on Twilight showdown, Team Edward clashing with Team Jacob? I shouldn’t have gotten hooked on that series in my teen years. Come to think of it, I was about Ella van Dusen’s age when I’d gotten swept away in the fictional world of vampires and werewolves. It probably hadn’t been the healthiest depiction of what normal romance looked like.
Stone came around to my side of the car, extending his hand. Since the seats were so low, I placed my hand in his. He effortlessly pulled me up and out of the vehicle.
“Thanks.” I stretched like a contented cat in the sunlight. “Today was such a wonderful surprise. I won’t ever forget it.”
Stone reached down and placed a hand on the small of my back, drawing me closer. The feeling of his long fingers pressing against my waist shot tingles down my spine. He’s just a friend, I told myself. He’s like a brother.
He leaned toward me, but I managed to keep my face level, instead of tipping up toward him for a kiss. He seemed to check himself, straightening back to his full height and giving my back an awkward pat before dropping his hand.
“Yes. I was glad to visit and get to know where you’re from.” His words were hesitant and stiff.
I felt horrible. Ava Fenton was probably right—Stone liked me. He’d come all this way to show me so. I was certain he would’ve kissed me if I’d let him.
Our front porch door opened and my parents and Jonas walked out. I wondered if they’d been watching us, but they acted as if nothing was amiss. I held my breath as Jonas strode over.
He extended a hand to Stone, his smile genuine. “Did you enjoy Larches Corner?”
“Definitely,” Stone said, shaking Jonas’s hand just a second too long. “We had coffee and played some checkers.” He wrapped an arm around my waist in an unmistakably possessive gesture. “Belinda’s always fun to be with.”
Mom pushed her curls out of her eyes, pinning me with a shrewd gaze. She seemed to recognize the dynamics at work between Stone and Jonas.
Dad, however, shook Stone’s hand and said h
e was glad he could visit. Then he clapped a friendly hand on Jonas’s shoulder and strolled back inside. Dad always napped on Sunday afternoons, and he wasn’t about to miss it just to stand around and try to unravel his daughter’s love life.
Jonas turned to me, his posture relaxed. “Will you be around tomorrow?”
I finally let my eyes meet his. I couldn’t read his look, but I got the impression that he was mildly amused.
This wasn’t the rivalry I’d anticipated, although Stone was becoming more and more territorial by the minute. He hadn’t dropped his arm yet, and we were standing shoulder to shoulder, so we faced Jonas and Mom as a unit.
“I will,” I said, deciding I needed to stay a little longer to help Chloe. “I’ll be over to feed the pigeons in the morning,” I added.
Jonas nodded. He took a step closer to Stone. He was the shorter man, but there was no doubt that Jonas projected the most dominant vibe. He shook Stone’s free hand again. “Nice to meet you,” he said. He did a slight bow-nod toward me. “See you tomorrow,” he said, then walked off toward his truck.
As Jonas pulled around the Lamborghini, his good ol’ boy truck seemed to highlight how foreign and completely impractical Stone’s car was.
Mom asked Stone if he wanted to come in and have a bite to eat, but he politely refused, so Mom excused herself to go clean up after the meal. Stone released his side-arm hold of me, as if finally realizing he’d been clinging to me.
I turned to face him, a smile forming on my lips. “Thanks again, Stone. I’m so glad you came. I feel like there were so many things we didn’t get a chance to talk about, though. Dietrich’s show, for example.”
Stone pulled his aviator sunglasses out of his polo pocket and slid them on, thus completing his Greenwich laird o’ the manor look. “Come back this Friday and we’ll get caught up at my billiards party,” he coaxed.
“I’ll plan to be back by then,” I said.
“That’d be great. Enjoy Halloween tomorrow night,” he grinned. “You dressing up for the trick-or-treaters?”
“We don’t get many here, and I don’t have a costume.” I glanced over at my parents’ porch, which didn’t boast a single Halloween decoration.
He gave me a parting hug, then opened his car door and got in. “That’s too bad. I could see you rocking a Sherlock Holmes hat or maybe a Nancy Drew costume. Because you are sleuthing around here, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in action before, remember? You get this certain look on your face…”
I tried to cover my astonishment at his insight. Stone knew me better than I thought.
He gave the engine a little rev, as if burning off energy. “And how often do you see that guy, Jonas? You’re feeding his pigeons or something?”
Now it was getting personal. Stone had divined that my relationship with Jonas wasn’t exactly platonic, at least not in my mind. And his jealousy was obvious.
“I see him every day, but it’s to feed his homing pigeons, like you said. What are you getting at?” I asked.
He lowered his sunglasses. “I’m just worried you’ll throw over your Greenwich friends and decide to pack your bags for home. It is quite a lovely home, Belinda.”
I laughed. “That’ll be the day.”
But as he pulled away, I had to admit that the day might come when I’d once again count Larches Corner as my place of residence. That thought was so antithetical to all the feelings I’d had growing up, I found myself slumping into a spineless pile on the porch. I stared out at the side field for quite a while, until the sun started its slow descent behind a distant hill.
Had Claire or Jackson or Rosalee experienced the same kind of mixed feelings I had about Larches Corner? Like me, they would’ve assumed they had their whole lives ahead of them to make choices and mistakes, to love and laugh and travel.
But I had reached the age where things were shifting into focus, and as much as Stone Carrington the fifth wanted me to settle back into my Greenwich carriage house, I had a sneaking suspicion I might be taking a U-turn before very long. And it wouldn’t be in a Lamborghini.
17
I woke up feeling groggy and angsty, because when I’d talked to Katrina last night, she’d recommended flat-out asking Jonas if he had feelings for me.
“You’re driving yourself crazy with all these questions,” she’d said. “Give yourself a break and just get everything out in the open. You know Stone likes you—that much is clear from his visit and the roses and the near-kiss. But Jonas needs to come out and say what he’s thinking, BB. It’s not right for him to keep you in the dark like this.”
I knew my sister was right on some level, but her methods were definitely not my methods. I didn’t want to push Jonas into anything. He had to approach me himself…and a decisive man like Jonas would only do that when he was good and ready.
It was a bit disappointing to see Jonas’s truck wasn’t around when I went over to feed the homing pigeons. The birds seemed fat and happy. Something was peeping for all it was worth, and I glanced into the nest to discover a tiny baby pigeon had been hatched. Its beak seemed as long as its head, and it had downy, butter-colored feathers. The mother pigeon seemed to be quite attentive, so I scattered some seed and let the others out for their daily constitutional.
The birds’ routine had grown so familiar, it felt comforting. I sat and watched as they made their circles around me, then fanned up into the heights. The mother bird pecked her way out of the loft, but didn’t go far.
I thought of Tracy van Dusen. According to Peter Bear, she’d been a protective mother at one time—maybe she’d even forbidden Claire to date. Now Tracy seemed almost hollow, like a talkative shell of a person. Tracy also seemed to have a strained relationship with her husband—she didn’t speak of him much, and she’d barely glanced at him when they came over to eat with us.
My phone rang and I picked up.
Chloe’s voice was shaky. “Belinda, you need to come over to Peter Bear’s house right now.”
Dread filled me. “Why? What’s going on?”
She spoke to someone in the background, then turned back to the phone. “I need you here right now,” she repeated. “I’ll explain when you get here.”
I hurriedly called the mama pigeon back into the loft and shut the door behind her. I shook the food bag and whistled, but didn’t have time to wait for all the pigeons to return. I hated to leave them flying, but they could utilize their one-way trapdoor today.
I made a mental note to text Jonas later and make sure they’d all returned. But there were bigger issues at hand—possibly life and death issues. Chloe wouldn’t have been so distraught unless someone else had been injured or even killed.
And I had a hunch that it was one of the last two members of the literature club.
* * * *
Bypassing an array of police cars and an ambulance in Peter’s driveway, I pulled up next to Chloe’s car. My writer friend stood on Peter’s front porch, speaking with a man in jeans and a plaid shirt. I looked around but didn’t see Peter Bear anywhere. My stomach twisted as I considered the possibility that the beautiful, grief-stricken man had become one of a string of victims.
Chloe saw me and motioned me over. When I stepped onto the porch, she introduced me to her coroner friend, Gavin MacGibbon. Gavin had stunning auburn hair and light blue eyes, so he looked every bit as Scottish as his name. I hated to ask why he was here, but I was afraid I knew.
A pang of despair charged my voice. “Was it Peter this time?”
Chloe gave me a quizzical look. “What? For goodness’ sakes, I haven’t told you yet. I’m so sorry—things have been crazy here. No. It wasn’t Peter.”
Then that meant…
“It was Tori Beekman,” Chloe continued, her eyes filled with genuine sadness.
I pictured the socially awkward college student who had been so enamored with Peter. “
Do you mean she’s dead? Here?”
“Yes, I’m afraid she’s dead, and the police are trying to find out why she was out in Peter’s horse barn. They have Peter in custody.” She motioned toward a police vehicle. “I think he’s still sitting in that car over there.”
I turned to Gavin, who had a grim look on his face. He slowly peeled off disposable gloves and shoved them into his pocket, and I realized he must have already examined Tori’s body. Gavin struck me as the kind of level-headed man one would hope for at a scene like this.
I felt like sinking into one of the rocking chairs, but the entire porch suddenly seemed tainted with evil. “What happened?”
Chloe had started tapping notes into her phone, but she looked up. She gently gripped my forearm, as if to steady me—or maybe herself. “It was gruesome,” she said. She fell mute and stared at Gavin.
The redhead took his cue, explaining things in a nearly-clinical manner. “The front of the victim’s skull was fractured after several blows, although the first likely did the most damage. Police didn’t have to look far to discover the weapon, which was a crowbar that had been dropped near the body.”
Chloe gave a long exhale and picked up the sordid tale. “Peter says he found her out there, lying in a pool of blood on the floor. When police questioned him, he asked why he would call them first if he was trying to hide a murder.”
“He does have a point there,” I said.
“He claims he must’ve been in town when it happened,” Chloe continued. “He had let his horses out early this morning and didn’t see anything unusual at that time. Then he headed to the bank and the tractor supply store. He says that when he got back, there was no car at his house. But that’s the thing that’s so weird—Tori’s car isn’t anywhere to be found.”
“So how’d she wind up here?” I mused.
“Exactly,” Chloe said. “That’s what the police are wondering. They’re assuming she must’ve gotten a ride over with Peter at some point and he’s lying.”
I looked at the horse barn, which was taped off. The police had already spread out from the stables and were busy searching Peter’s house and grounds.
Belinda Blake and the Birds of a Feather Page 12
