Not Quite Mine

by Lyla Payne

  The brick incident is the first thing Leo asked about, because somehow, even with Mrs. Walters gone, everyone knew about the vandalism before I came into town today. Most residents were at one of the three churches this morning. Houses of worship, my ass. Houses of gossip, more like it.

  I stop to consider that Cade has spying and talking in common with his grandmother, but I just can’t see him tittering with the old ladies over at Westies.

  I filled Leo in on the details during our first mile, which is only the note, really, since he’d heard the rest, and the fact that it’s about Ellen. I refrain from mentioning that I saw his brother the other day, or asking what happened to his family, a question that has been burning on the back of my tongue since we reconnected. The fact that Trent obviously hadn’t wanted to discuss Leo either only increases my curiosity. He knew about my involvement with Lindsay’s case, too, but didn’t seem interested in how his only sister was doing. Strange.

  It’s a mystery I would sorely like to solve, but going behind Leo’s back would be grounds for removal from his friends list and that’s enough to steer me clear. Leo doesn’t have that long of a list and I rather like being on it. Mine isn’t long, either, and when I think about crossing Leo off, panic crawls through my blood.

  We finally slow to a jog, then a walk, without discussing it. We’re both huffing and puffing, our faces red in the warm Sunday afternoon, but neither of us need to bend over to breathe or spend a few scary minutes trying not to vomit. Instead, we loop back around to the benches I’ve come to think of as ours, the ones in front of the public wooden docks that line the Charles River.

  “How are things with Victoria?” I ask, bending at the waist to try to stretch the kink out of my lower back.

  Leo raises an eyebrow. “Good, actually. She invited me to her parents’ house for Sunday dinner.”

  “Wow, that’s serious. Beau’s mother never even invites me to tea.”

  “That’s because she’s a bitch.”

  “True enough.” I sit back, sighing. “I mean, I know it’s not like everyone gets to have an awesome relationship with their in-laws, but it sure would be preferable to fighting them at every turn.”

  Leo says nothing, staring out over the water with an expression that’s hard to read. I wonder if he’s thinking about his relationship with his mother and brothers, and how he won’t be inviting Victoria home to meet them. How maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am, that it’s sort of sad to be with someone and never have even the chance to truly expand your family, if things get that far.

  “If you’re still interested in that double date, I was thinking maybe Tuesday night would work. Vic and I have plans to go down to Charleston for dinner, and Lindsay is off work that day so she’s got Marcella.”

  “Sure, sounds fun. I’ll have to check with Beau.”

  He nods. “Amelia and Brick can come, too, if you want to invite them.”

  I think about it, wondering if he’ll be back in town by then. Thinking that subjecting this poor girl to two Draytons, plus me, might be too much. “I don’t think Brick will be back in town. He’s in Washington.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. He’s giving a guest lecture at Georgetown, but I suspect the real reason he went is to follow up on the Middleton…situation.” A breeze kicks up, cooling the sweat on my face and eliciting a shiver. “And checking to see what’s being done to find Lucy Winters.”

  Leo says nothing in response to that, seeming to realize that there’s nothing he really should say. He’s good about that—knowing when to talk, and when to stay silent, and when both of us are best served by his sitting by my side and letting me feel how I’m feeling without any input.

  We do that for a while, until Leo says he needs to get ready for dinner. I don’t argue with him, even though I’d like to stay longer. Heron Creek might not be any better than most places at keeping the rest of the world away, but here by the river, with Leo, it seems that way.

  I head back to the house, hoping to find Ellen back in my room. A list of questions scrolls through my mind, gathered during the night and day, and all needing answers.

  It’s time to further hone my skills at undead charades.

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s been two days and Ellen hasn’t shown up again. I’m not sure where she’s gone or how she thinks I’m supposed to solve this thing by myself, but I haven’t been able to make any headway without her. I need to know if the baby lived, for one thing, and if it was a boy or a girl, for another. Those things will help me narrow down what I’m looking for, at least, but without any real direction from her, finding this baby is like finding a needle in a haystack.

  It’s becoming painfully clear to me that Will is right about me not being a detective. All of the “cases” I’ve helped close, from Anne’s to the Whistling Doctor’s to Nan Robbins’s…none of them would have been solved without help from my ghosts.

  That’s okay, I think. I’m not a detective. I’m something else.

  Yeah, something else.

  I snort. Maybe someday soon I’ll be able to figure out what.

  Nerves swish in my belly at the thought of our double date tonight. Agreeing to it could have been a mistake, I realized soon after I mentioned it to Beau. He seems fine with the whole thing and it’s unsettling. Maybe he wants a chance to show Leo how good the two of us are together, or maybe we both want to size up Victoria. I’ve managed to find out in the past couple of days that she’s a home health care nurse with the VA, she’s the first one in her family to finish community college, and she hates coffee.

  The last was relayed by the women in Westies, and I loved her for the amount of outrage the fact seemed to engender. I can’t blame her. Victoria’s lack of affection for coffee may not anger me, but it seems like as good a reason to distrust her as any.

  Amelia pops into the bathroom where I’m finishing getting ready. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and she cocks her head to one side, approval clear on her pretty features. “You look good, Grace. You always were the pretty one.”

  “Yeah, yeah. The plain one, you mean. This is just makeup.”

  “You’re an idiot.” She plops down on the toilet seat while I play with a couple of rogue curls. “You must be nervous if you’re taking this much time to get ready. You know Beau can’t keep his hands off you no matter what.”

  “It’s not that.” I make an effort to stop fussing with my appearance and turn to face her. “I don’t know. I feel like this is a bad idea.”

  “You mean because Beau feels slightly threatened by your friendship with Leo?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Why would you say that?”

  Amelia waves a dismissive hand. “Because I’m not an idiot? Leo’s handsome and he’s tied to your past, but unlike Will, he’s not happily married to someone else. It’s only natural that Beau feel a little threatened.”

  “But there’s nothing romantic between Leo and me. Never has been.”

  “I understand that, and so does the mayor, most likely. I think…he probably wonders what you get from spending time with Leo that you don’t get from him, that’s all. And that would make anyone wonder if something is missing and how big of a deal it is that you have to go somewhere else to get it.”

  I pause, then frown at her. “Did you just steal advice from When Harry Met Sally?”

  That makes her laugh. “Maybe I paraphrased, but that doesn’t make it less true.”

  “So you think I should stop being friends with Leo?”

  “God, no. Leo’s a good friend, and he’s never done anything to make you or me or Beau think that he’s on some underhanded mission to tempt you away.” She shrugs. “I’m just saying I see Beau’s point of view. And I get why spending the evening with both of them might make you antsy.”

  “Well, what do I do about it?”

  “Nothing. Be your charming self, and show both of them that exactly where you stand is just fine and dandy.”

  “Dandy, huh
?”

  She nods, and I turn back to the mirror to apply a swipe of lipstick.

  “Has Ellen not been back?” she asks.

  “No. And I really don’t know how to move forward without her.” I glance through the bathroom door and into the bedroom, but neither Ellen nor Henry are hanging out. Not a surprise with Millie so close, but one can hope. “Henry’s been back moping since I haven’t had time to do any more research for my paper. Maybe he’s scaring her off, I don’t know.” I snap the lipstick closed, toss it in my clutch on the counter, and smile. “Wish me luck!”

  “Have fun, Grace. Bring me back some dessert.”

  “You got it.”

  Downstairs, I find Beau about to knock when I pull open the front door. The surprised look on his face makes me giggle, and he pulls me in for a hug and a brief kiss.

  “Mmm. Good evening to you, Mr. Mayor.”

  “It is now. Shall we go?” He offers his arm and I take it, happy that the evening is warm enough to only need a light jacket.

  Amelia’s warnings ring in my head, and I decide that as long as I’m myself, nothing can go wrong. Leo will be happy if I’m nice to Victoria, and since he seems to like her, trying is the friendly thing to do. Beau will be happy to see me happy for Leo dating a new girl. All will be right, and then I can get back to the business of solving Ellen’s mystery.

  And to waiting for the DNA results to come back.

  I try not to frown, pushing the thought out of my head as I climb into the car and buckle my seat belt. Beau shuts the door behind me and goes around to the driver’s side, getting in and starting up the sedan. It purrs as we slip quietly out of Heron Creek and onto the highway to Charleston. We pass Travis’s old car as it pulls onto our street, but Beau is fiddling with the radio and doesn’t notice. My shoulders relax at the knowledge that he’ll be watching Amelia tonight.

  “Reservations are at six?” my boyfriend verifies as we drive into town.

  “Yes, at FIG,” I say. “I’m excited. It’s my favorite.”

  “It should be everyone’s favorite. Every time I go I say it’s the best meal I’ve ever had.”

  FIG, which stands for Food Is Good but no one ever says the whole thing, is one of many Charleston restaurants that change the menu weekly based on what fish and vegetables are in season. It means you can never plan what you’ll order in advance, but it doesn’t matter because you could close your eyes and point to anything at all and it would be delicious.

  Beau finds a place to park on the street, and since it’s Tuesday night, we only have to trek a couple of blocks. Across Meeting Street is Hyman’s Seafood, and despite the season and the time of week, there’s a line trailing out the door. I’ve never been able to figure out how a restaurant becomes the one tourists flock to, despite the quality or authenticity of the food, while another that’s leaps and bounds better sits quietly right across the street.

  “Why do you think people always hear ‘Go to Hyman’s’ when they visit Charleston?”’ I ask, my arm looped through Beau’s.

  He studies the people waiting in the December evening for the briefest moment before pulling open the door to FIG. The foyer is dark and warm, the low lighting and smile of the hostess welcoming. There are people ahead of us, so Beau turns to answer me while we wait.

  “I think because you don’t have to make a reservation there and you’re guaranteed to get a huge helping of typical soul food.” He glances around FIG, then lowers his voice. “And your bill will be less than two hundred bucks a couple.”

  “Only if you’re including the wine,” I reason.

  He winks. “I always include the wine.”

  “Can I help you?” the hostess, a woman probably around my age, asks. Unlike the hostess at the Wreck, she doesn’t take the opportunity to openly flirt with my boyfriend.

  It pleases me until I catch her staring at my chest. So it’s not manners, just preference.

  “We’re here for Boone, party of four,” Beau tells her.

  “Yes, sir, the rest of your party has already arrived.”

  I can’t help but start with surprise. Leo’s not only on time, but early?

  We follow the waitress through the maze of tables toward the back. Not only is Leo on time but, as Beau implied, also planning to drop a good amount of cash tonight in order to, one would surmise, impress this Victoria woman. Who he hasn’t slept with yet.

  A cold tug on my stomach brings a frown to my face, but it’s gone before I can identify the cause. Leo stands up when he sees Beau and me approach. There’s a nervous twitch about him that I’ve rarely, if ever, seen before tonight, but it’s the beauty seated in the chair beside him that really catches my attention.

  Her glowing, golden skin and jet-back waves seem to suggest Hispanic origin, as does the way her body curves between her chest and her hips. She smiles, showing a row of straight white teeth, but her dark brown eyes flicker between curious and wary as she takes us in.

  “Gracie, Beau, this is Victoria Gomez. Victoria, Gracie Harper and Mayor Beau Drayton.”

  We all shake hands. Beau and Leo both wait for me to settle into my chair before sitting down, and Victoria and I pretend to not be sneaking looks at each other while they do. Once the men are seated, the waiter materializes with a wine list, then fills the waiting water glasses while we peruse it.

  Beau knows what I like and don’t like, but Leo needs to check with Victoria, a fact that gives me a strange sense of satisfaction. In the end we settle on a bottle of Pinot Gris that probably couldn’t offend a single person, then give the waiter our attention as he goes over a list of specials, each one sounding more delicious than the last.

  Once we’ve all ordered, the waiter takes the menu and leaves the four of us with our wine, water, and nonexistent conversation.

  “Victoria, how long have you lived in Heron Creek?” Beau starts.

  “I don’t actually live in Heron Creek. I’m an at-home health care worker, and I’ve been taking care of Ben Latimer since he fell and broke his hip. He needs twenty-four-hour help so I suppose I’m a temporary resident.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m surprised the mayor doesn’t keep tabs on everyone in town.”

  Beau chuckles. “I’m not that sort of mayor.”

  Leo looks like he’s trying not to say something, and I decide to help him out because if he makes some comment about Beau doing his job one way or another the rest of dinner will be super awkward.

  “Do you have any sort of background in mental health? Because Leo could really use someone like that in his life,” I joke.

  She levels me with a gaze full of that same mixture of curiosity and wariness. “Or perhaps you’re asking for yourself, with all the talk of ghosts around town?”

  So much for dispelling the awkward before it came around to call. I fix a smile on my face and take the slightest comfort from the warmth of Beau’s hand on my knee. “I guess you’ve been in town long enough to figure out where to hear the best sort of gossip.”

  Victoria shrugs. “Mr. Latimer knows everything. The woman who comes in to clean three days a week likes to talk, and you can’t help but listen when her stories are so interesting.”

  I swallow, trying to figure out where to take the conversation from here. It’s not like I’m under the impression that people in town don’t talk about me behind my back—I’d almost be offended if they didn’t, since in the South it’s kind of the way they let you know you’re one of them—but I don’t know Victoria. She’s not one of us, and the fact that she thinks it’s okay to call me out like this raises my hackles.

  Mr. Latimer must use the same housekeeper we do, and that’s how she knows so much. I make up my mind here and now to fire her, even though Aunt Karen is the one who pays her.

  “Gracie has her head on pretty straight, Miss Gomez. Do you not believe in ghosts? Because if not, that would make you the oddity around these parts, I’m afraid.” Beau says this very calmly, then sips his wine. His gaze is steady
on her, though, making it clear that he is not making a joke of any kind, and also that he would appreciate an answer.

  I catch Leo’s eye and shake my head slightly at the apology shining there. It’s not his fault his girlfriend lacks propriety.

  Maybe it’s not even that. Maybe she made up her mind not to like me before we even met, and this is her way of letting me know that we won’t be braiding each other’s hair or having sleepovers anytime soon. Fine by me. I’ve got enough people to worry about, and the girl Leo will probably drop inside of a month isn’t worth getting bent out of shape over, anyway.

  “I do not believe in ghosts, Mayor Drayton. I’m a woman of science.”

  “You sound like Dana Scully from The X-Files, and look what happened to her,” I quip, still trying.

  Victoria’s face is blank. “What happened to her?”

  Okay, now I really can’t take her seriously. She’s never seen The X-Files.

  “Nothing.” I gulp some wine. “It’s cool if you don’t believe in ghosts. Lots of people don’t. More say they don’t. But they’re making me a tidy little living, so it’s hard for me to pretend otherwise.”

  A bit of a stretch. The ghosts aren’t actually bringing me business, at least not the paying kind, but they have helped me get a foothold in the academic community here and there, so they remain on my good side. I prefer their company to Victoria’s, that’s for sure.

  Except Mama Lottie. I’d rather be here than facing her out at Drayton Hall again.

  “That’s nice.” She almost sneers, a smug expression darkening her pretty face.

  Leo clears his throat and glances toward me again, looking like a trapped animal. I’m not sure whether he figured this would be a nice evening or not, but the fact that she’s sort of attacking me for no reason doesn’t appear to be within the realm of what he considered.

  “Gracie’s an archivist. Has her doctorate and everything, so the fact that the ghosts are so tied to local history has been interesting for her. She was just published in a prestigious journal.” Leo’s fingers rub the stem of his wineglass, his tone defensive.