by Winnie Reed
“Fine.” She shrugged. “You wear me out.”
I could’ve said the same thing about her, but chose not to. I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. I’ll be heading to the computers now to look up old periodicals.”
“Help yourself.” I caught her smiling as I wheeled the stroller away from the front desk.
“I told you it would be okay,” I whispered to Lola. “And you were nervous about the looks we’d get.” She looked up at me, completely uncomprehending.
And I did get a few looks, too, which told me it was time to stop talking to myself.
Several of the library’s computers were in use when I got there, mostly young people who probably got kicked off the home computer and told to go out and do something with their time. So what did they do? They went to the library and settled back in.
One of the people using a terminal wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t a retiree, either, who normally comprised most of the library’s patrons over the summer. I hung back for a second, smiling to myself at the sight of Joe Sullivan leaning in close, brows drawn together, staring intently at the screen in front of him.
“Excuse me, but you look like a detective who’s supposed to be on vacation,” I whispered as I wheeled the stroller over to him. “Also, you haven’t been by to see our baby in ages.”
His head snapped around, eyes wide. “Oh, no,” he groaned, slumping a little as he took in the sight of me and the stroller. “You’re sick.”
“Funny, but I feel just fine.” I parked the stroller next to him and sat on the other side. “What are you doing here?”
He made a big point of saying hi to Lola, who licked his hands until I was fairly sure he lost his fingerprints. “I had bacon with breakfast,” he explained. “But I swear, I’ve washed my hands since then.”
“Your hygiene is none of my business.” I sniffed.
“Anyway, you got me thinking about that picture yesterday. Who it could’ve been. I’ve always been fascinated by the people who built summer homes down here. Can you imagine, taking an entire summer to stay in your house at the shore?”
“No. I can’t imagine being able to do that,” I admitted. “That entire time period fascinates me. I mean, let’s not kid ourselves. There’s lots of people nowadays who can do the same thing. It seems like there was so much more grace back then. Maybe we’re looking at it through the lens of what we’ve been fed about that time.”
“Maybe. Check it out.” He pointed to his screen, where a photo of a badminton match being held on a sweeping lawn jumped out at me. “That’s what they did. In long sleeves, long skirts, jackets. How did they manage it?”
“They didn’t know any other way. Can you imagine a woman wearing a tee and shorts like I am now? She’d be branded a scarlet woman and ostracized.”
“They’re fairly short shorts, you know.”
“Shut up. And no, they’re not.” I tugged them down anyway, self-conscious. “I guess we weren’t made for those times. Give me comfort any day. Oh, and a job and the right to vote and all that good stuff.”
Somebody shushed us when he laughed, which of course made me laugh.
“Okay, you’re a bad influence and I’m gonna get to work. I have some newspapers to look up.” And I did, though I was aware of both him and the dog all the while. Every once in a while, she’d lick my arm, then lick his.
“What are you looking up?” he whispered, conscious of volume now that we’d been chastised.
“Obituaries.”
“Fun.”
I glanced over long enough to roll my eyes. “Mom thinks the girl in the picture looks like the last member of the family who owned that house. She passed away while I was in college. Evidently, it was the talk of the town. Everybody wanted to know who she left her fortune to, but there was never any indication.”
“Oof. I can just imagine the storm that set off.”
“Right? I’m sorta glad I wasn’t here for it. All I know is, she didn’t leave it to me or to anybody else in my family. I was hoping there’d be mention of it in the papers from back then.”
He left me to my research, involved in his own. It wasn’t hard to find all sorts of press about Millicent, since her family had practically founded the entire town generations earlier. The last handful of articles had to do with her death.
I made a mental note of her lawyer’s name. Bernard Lewis. He wasn’t local, but instead operated out of Philadelphia. A quick Google of his name told me he was still in his Center City office. The article named him as the will’s executor.
The other two articles were pure speculation which had been written by—no surprise—Auntie Trixie. The first title made me rub the bridge of my nose, since it was enough to give me a headache. WHERE ARE MILLICENT’S MILLIONS?
Joe snickered, clearly reading what I’d pulled up on the screen. “Nice title,” he whispered.
“Courtesy of Trixie Graham.”
His eyes lit up in recognition of the lady he’d met a few times already, most recently in Paradise City. “Oh. Of course she did.” A snort of laughter exploded from him even though he strained to cover it up. It was like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet library.
I turned my attention to the article, since I was afraid to make eye contact with anybody around us. It was bad enough I’d brought a dog in with me.
“Could you please control yourself? I have to live here. You don’t.”
“Sorry, sorry.” But he was still working against the impulse to laugh, pressing his lips together, his cheeks puffing out.
There was nothing else in any of the articles that pointed to an answer regarding her fortune. It might as well have never existed. In Trixie’s article she estimated Millicent’s net worth at roughly twenty million dollars. A far cry from how wealthy the family used to be, but nothing to sneeze at.
“And it’s all sitting somewhere,” I whispered, more to myself than to Joe. “Unless the lawyer took it.”
“You’re always looking for a conspiracy,” he whispered back.
“What’s it sound like to you, detective? The woman was worth tens of millions—I know Trixie might’ve gone overboard with the headline, but she wouldn’t throw a number out there without knowing for sure she was right. She’s not irresponsible.”
“And nobody knows what happened to her money,” Joe murmured. He wasn’t joking anymore. “No living relatives?”
“None.”
“Then yeah, unless there’s a record out there of the money being donated to charity, I’d go with the lawyer.”
“Really?”
“I have no idea.” He sighed. “Don’t get yourself worked up. Maybe, I don’t know, the money was supposed to go to somebody who was already dead, and they didn’t have a will to dictate who it would go to. Maybe Millie didn’t know they’d died—or maybe she did, and she just never got around to changing the document. Who knows?”
“Millicent,” I whispered.
“Huh?”
“Somebody called her Millie once and got an iced tea thrown in their face. To her, it was a huge insult.”
“She sounds charming. No wonder she didn’t have a husband or kids.”
“Shush.”
Somebody cleared their throat in a very pointed way from across the room. It was loud and obvious enough that I turned to see who’d done it.
I should’ve known. Nell fixed me with what I could only describe as a death glare.
I shrugged, grimacing, and mouthed, “Sorry!”
She shook her head before peering over the top of mine to see who sat on my other side.
A sly smile started to spread.
My eyes widened. Of course. She was thinking of seeing me with Deke last night, then Joe this morning. That little minx. I very deliberately dragged a finger across my throat, then pointed to her. She got the message and turned away. Smart thinking.
Though this didn’t mean she wouldn’t say something to Mom about it. And Trixie. And whoever else.
It was almost enough to make leaving the house less appealing.
“I’d better get going,” I sighed, standing. “There’s a little work I have to get done before Raina gets here later.”
“Oh, she’ll be in town? We should grab a slice on the boardwalk. Unless she’s not a slice-on-the-boardwalk sort of person.”
“She definitely is. Don’t let the Birkin bag fool you. Oh, and keep tomorrow morning open.”
He raised a brow. “Why?”
“I was thinking there’s got to be a way to get you to relax more.”
“I’m pretty relaxed right now…”
“I mean in everyday life. Real life. Not while you’re on vacation.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I hate this idea? I think I might.”
“You’ll love it. Say goodbye to the grumpy detective, Lola.” I lifted one of her front paws and waved it his way.
What would Raina think about Joe’s invitation for pizza? I was sure she wouldn’t leave me to wonder for long.
Chapter Nine
It was an absolute stunner of a day, which meant the sidewalks were peppered with tourists and townspeople alike as I pushed the stroller down the street. Sure, I could’ve taken the dog out, but then I’d have to contend with both a dog and a stroller.
Besides, she loved the attention. Less walking meant more time to observe, to sniff the air, to lick hands when offered. All she had to do was bask in her glory while I did all the work.
Not that it was work. She was all of twelve pounds.
Sure, I got my fair share of snickers, glances of disbelief. There might even have been pity in the faces of one or two people as I passed. Like they pitied the poor, childless girl who felt she had to push her dog in a stroller to make up for what she didn’t have. People were like that. They tended to jump to conclusions.
For the most part, however, we were a hit. And I didn’t have to worry about her getting squished by window shoppers unaware of a ball of fur nearby.
A sense of pride tugged at my heart. This was my town, and these people thought highly enough of it to pay us a visit. It was the same every year, but different at the same time. Different people, different stories. At the heart, everybody just wanted to have a good time and escape the daily grind for a while.
In the middle of so many unfamiliar faces, one stuck out. I’d seen this face before—recently, in fact, as I absorbed the idea of her giving me a brother or sister.
She stood in front of a baby boutique on Main Street, looking into the window with a soft smile. It would be a shame to interrupt her when she was daydreaming about her life as a mother. The hope practically shining from her face told me everything I needed to know about how she felt about motherhood.
It was then that I knew without a shred of doubt that she’d be a good mother, and a good wife to Dad if they chose to get married. He was an old-school type of guy, and it would’ve surprised me to death if he didn’t propose now that she was “in the family way,” as they used to say.
Lola, ever the diplomat, chose that very second to let out the cutest little bark. Maybe it was because she was so small, but everything she did seemed cute to me.
Holly’s head snapped around. When she noticed Lola, then me, the smile she’d worn before only widened. “Hi! Oh, my gosh, you’re killing me with the cuteness!”
“So you don’t think it’s cheesy, me pushing her in a stroller?” I asked as I approached.
“Not at all. She’d get run over today, with all this foot traffic.” Holly bent down to pet Lola’s soft fur. “And who is this?”
“This is my baby, Lola.”
Holly’s face lit up. “She is precious! A Maltese?”
“Yeah! Not many people know that just from looking at her.”
“I had a Maltese growing up. I’m allergic to dogs in general.” She scratched Lola behind the ears, grinning. “What a sweetheart. Do you take her around with you a lot?”
“I had her at the library earlier, which went over… pretty much the way you’d expect bringing a dog to the library would go. But she’s so well-behaved. She hangs out in the kitchen at the café when I work there.”
Whoops. Had I said too much? A look came over her face, one that reminded me a lot of concern and guilt.
Time to change the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Just great.” She smiled again, relieved. “I was going to grab a little lunch before going back to work. Maybe a big lunch. My appetite is monstrous. It was like overnight, I went from not wanting to even think about food to wanting nothing but.”
“I guess that’s a good sign, huh?”
“That’s what the doctor said.”
Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice a few glances our way. Unfriendly glances from people I recognized. Because who else but a Cape Hope resident would think there was anything even slightly wrong with two young women chatting with a dog between them?
Only the fact that my parents were so well-known—and the fact that I’d see these people again—kept me from telling them to mind their business. Was there something so wrong with talking to the woman? She was a good, sweet person who only wanted the same thing many women did. A home, a partner, a child, fulfilling work.
To live her life without the opinions of a bunch of strangers getting in the way.
I suppressed the urge to throw my arms around her, to protect her from them. She was a grown woman, but I couldn’t help that protective instinct.
“Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat. There’s a table opening up across the street.” I pointed to the restaurant in question, where diners enjoyed their salads and sandwiches while watching people walk past.
“You’re sure?” She tucked a dark curl behind one ear, chewing her lip as she glanced over there. “I don’t want to take up so much of your time.”
“Don’t even say that!” I scoffed. “Please. I offered, didn’t I?” Yes, I had work to do, but this felt important. I told myself I’d have eaten at home just the same, and it would’ve taken time to make something. Knowing Holly had to go to work meant less chance of it turning into a length gab-fest, too.
“Okay, then.” The poor thing looked dazed as we crossed the street. “This is so generous.”
“Come on, you’ve made dinner for me how many times? If anything, I should be ashamed; I should’ve asked you two over ages ago to repay the favor. It seems like there’s always something going on.”
“Your dad is always talking about how interesting your work is. He’s really proud, you know.”
“Really?” We took a seat, with me parking the stroller beside me. “That’s funny.”
“Why is it funny?”
“Not funny ha-ha. Funny odd. He always wanted me to be a cop. I studied Criminal Justice to make him happy, even though I could never see myself solving cases and locking up the bad guys.”
“And see, I think that’s what’s funny. Because you do solve cases. You’ve solved three so far.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it? It sure sounds important where I’m sitting. You helped the people involved. He’s proud of that too. But don’t tell him I told you so,” she giggled. “He’d accuse me of encouraging you.”
“I won’t say a word,” I agreed. Dad? Proud of me? Here I was, thinking I was doing her a favor by inviting her to lunch, when she was the one making me feel better.
Holly ordered a chicken caesar salad, but only after making sure there was no raw egg in the dressing. “It comes out of a bottle.” The server shrugged. I barely held back a laugh.
“I’ll have the grilled chicken sandwich,” I decided. “Fries. And a chocolate shake.”
“Ooh, that sounds good,” Holly mused. “Make that two shakes.”
“I don’t mean to be a bad influence!”
“You’re not. I’ve been craving a shake forever—at least, that’s how it feels. For once, I’ll feel free to eat whatever I want. They’ll have to roll me out of
the house like a giant basketball by the time I’m full-term.”
She was so thin, I had a hard time believing that. “Make sure Dad pampers you. I mean, the whole works. Rubbing your feet, rubbing your back, all of it.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to make sure he does anything. He’s already practically hanging on me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’m afraid he’ll be the one needing a foot rub after all the running around he’s bound to do. He already wants to start painting and decorating the nursery.”
My heart ached just ever so slightly, though I made a point of smiling for her benefit. It was nice, really it was. It was also strange, thinking of him doing that for his child with a woman who wasn’t my mom. “If anybody should know how to decorate, it would be you!”
“This is a little outside my area of expertise,” she admitted. “I’ve been scouring the internet for ideas.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“You should come over and take a look once we get started,” she offered. “I mean, if you’re interested.”
“I am!”
“Good! It would make him really happy, too.” She had a good heart and wanted Dad to have his daughter with him through this. It wasn’t so much about her being accepted as it was about him feeling comfortable, feeling like he had space and permission to love this new family.
How could I help but like somebody who loved him so much?
“I only wish I could get Darcy to come around,” I admitted. “I know it must bother him—to put it mildly.”
“Yes, that’s pretty mild,” she sighed. “He hopes she’ll have a change of heart. So do I, of course—I want what he wants.”
“Maybe she will. I think she will. She needs time to absorb this—it came as a surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have. These things do happen, and you’re not exactly over the hill.” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “I hope this isn’t too personal a question, but do you have a close relationship with your father?”
