by Tess Rothery
“What about your dad?”
“He speaks Chicago-Polish. Mom says it doesn’t count.”
Taylor knew she’d gotten off track, but they were bonding, and if Asha was truly Molly’s best friend, she needed this connection. Especially as Asha had already expressed an interest in using Coco’s website.
“I’m not sure I can help you much with Molly, but I want to. I’m here for anything you need, any time.” She shrugged into a vintage denim jacket.
“I’ll definitely keep in touch.” Taylor left, to the obvious relief of the two church ladies trying to shut down the coffee shop.
It had been a long, fruitless day, and that “ought to be healed by now” wound where her thigh had been stabbed with sewing sheers ached deeply. She hobbled to her car glad she had driven and glad no one could see her.
“Taylor!”
She paused at the door to her car. That was small town life, wasn’t it? Just when you were sure you couldn’t be seen.
Graham came loping down the driveway, like a breath of fresh air. “Got time to compare notes?”
“Sure, get in.”
She drove them both over to her little house on Love Street—just a couple of blocks from the church.
“Have you eaten?” Graham asked.
“Nope. And I don’t have much at the house. We’ve been staying with my grandparents.”
“Then let me get you dinner, my treat.”
“Why not?” She backed out of her driveway, hit Main Street and continued out of town. She suspected they’d not get the privacy they wanted at Reuben’s. “You interviewed Coco without me.” Taylor and Graham had a nice long road ahead of them and Taylor didn't feel like making small talk.
“Yeah, I did. I wish I'd been able to interview her without your grandma too.” He raked his hand through his floppy hair, though Taylor kept her eyes on the road. “I’m pretty sure Coco would consider me an older man, and as far as she knows, I have money.” He laughed. “Of course, I'm sure you know the truth.”
“I see.” A picture began to form for Taylor, and she couldn't help but chuckle. “So, what fees does she charge her gentlemen clients?”
“Don't know. Your grandma was there. I could hardly ask to join the dating service, when she’s so aware of who I’m really interested in.”
A little sigh of happiness escaped Taylor, but she buttoned it up fast.
“What about you, instead?” Graham asked.
“If you think Grandma Quinny wouldn’t approve of you joining Coco’s…dating service…you can only imagine how she’d feel if I did.”
“She doesn't have to know,” he said. “Set it up on the sly with Coco. It's no secret I don't come around very often. And maybe you would like the company of someone comfortably well-off.”
Her hand went to the large diamond stud in her ear.
“Unless you already have a friend who’s more comfortably well-off than me.” He sat up a little straighter.
“Just a friend,” Taylor said. “And anyway, it's not like you come around very often.”
“Touche. I couldn't ask Coco the questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t come away empty handed.”
Taylor pulled into a little roadside diner called Truie’s. It was one of those highway diners, between towns, and far from home. She didn’t know if it was any good and didn’t know if they’d get privacy, but she was done talking in the car. She wanted to sit face to face and have a real conversation.
Graham held the door of the diner open for Taylor, but they did not find privacy inside.
“Well, well, well! Look who the cat dragged in!” Grandpa Quinny stood from his seat. He, Grandpa Ernie, and Boggy Hudson had a round table to themselves in the clean and rather fussy diner. The elderly gentlemen were surrounded by pigs—ceramic pigs on shelves, painted pigs on canvas, photos of pigs. Vintage stuffed Pigs in costumes and pigs on the paper placemats on their plastic cloth covered table. “What brings the two of you all the way out here?”
Graham led the way and pulled a seat out for Taylor. “Luck,” he said as they both sat.
Grandpa Quinny leaned forward. “I’d say. Boggy recommended it. They do a great pork chop.”
Boggy laughed. “A good chop is worth a drive.” He had a happy glint in his eye. Taylor returned his smile.
Graham gave her a subtle wink and picked up his menu. No more private conversation till the drive home, apparently.
But perhaps Taylor could nudge some information out of Boggy. Just a little.
Unfortunately, they were all well into their diner-standard meals before she managed a word in edge wise. The three older gentlemen were busy digging into everything Graham might know about that virus. One hundred and two American’s had it so far, and seven had died. Boggy thought that wasn’t too bad.
“Only two in Oregon,” Grandpa Ernie agreed. “Nothing like measles when we were kids. Everybody got that one.”
Graham glanced at Taylor, but she didn’t have an opinion on the virus. The murder was enough to occupy her without worrying about a problem that was primarily so far from home.
The waitress had collected their plates, and everyone was ready to go when another couple popped in.
Taylor didn’t recognize them but had a feeling that the silver-haired man in the cashmere sweater was not with his daughter.
Boggy lit up when he saw the pair. “Eh! How’s it doing, Benji?”
The man with the silver hair turned to the sound of his name and offered the table a face glowing with happiness. He put his arm around the younger woman’s waist and turned her.
She had the blinding white smile of someone who’d paid a lot of money for her teeth. And her dress was cut low enough to show she may have paid a lot of money for other parts as well.
“Stassi, let me introduce you to some of my friends.” He said names all around, pausing only at Graham who introduced himself and Taylor.
“Hello, lovely to meet you all.” Stassi, whose name was said with a short a, had a deep voice, like Lauren Bacall.
Grandpa Ernie huffed into his mustache. “What’s a girl like you doing out with an old man like him?”
Stassi tilted her head slightly, eyeing the elderly man. “Merely giving him the opportunity to prove that age is only a number.” Her throaty voice didn’t show a hint of discomfort.
“Ha.” Boggy hooted a laugh. “That’s a good one. One of Coco’s friends, eh Benji?”
Ben—Taylor couldn’t refer to a man that age as Benji, even in her head—had the decency to turn a rosy pink.
“That little minx made me go out with one too. I told her I was too old for that nonsense. I’ll be eighty-one before you know it. But you’re a kid compared to me, so good luck.”
Grandpa Quinny had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, assessing the situation.
“When Benji was a boy, he worked for me,” Boggy said to Stassi. “But look at him now. Woo-hoo. Owns more land than the sheik of Arabia.”
“Can you tell her next how smart I am, and generous in bed?” Benji lifted one eyebrow.
Stassi smiled.
Boggy laughed and laughed.
Grandpa Quinny offered Ben his hand. “We were just headed out. Enjoy your dinner. I highly recommend the pork chops.”
Ben shook the older man’s hand and then led his date to a booth across the small restaurant.
“Boggy, you wouldn’t mind meeting me for lunch one of these days, would you?” Graham asked.
Boggy glared at him, though with humor in his eyes. “You broke my boy Hudson’s heart. You know that don’t you? Stole that girl right out from under him.”
“Can you blame me?” Graham asked with wide-eyed innocence.
Boggy laughed again. “Drop by any time. I’m staying with my daughter in Willamina right now. Maggie, the youngest.”
The small group of grandfathers left, each stopping to give Taylor a bit of a hug and kiss on the way.
Graham also gave Taylor a bit of a hug and a
kiss on the top of her head, once they were outside. “Forgive me for leaving you out of my interview with Coco?”
She leaned into him, enjoying the way his arms held her without making her feel trapped. “You’re going to interview Boggy without me, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. Will you let me make it up to you tonight?”
She didn’t answer but did drive back to her little house on Love Street, rather than the Quinn family farm.
The house was quiet and chilly. She bypassed the lamps in the living room, only flicking on the last, smallest one on her way to the kitchen. She knew there was a bottle of wine in the fridge, something cheap, but it would do. Her heart battered her rib cage, almost hard enough to hurt her shoulder, and she stumbled on the threshold as her leg gave out, just a little.
But Graham was behind her and caught her in his arms. He balanced her with his fingers firm on her hip. She could feel him behind her, warm. No, hot.
And then he flipped on the light.
“I’m going to talk to Boggy tomorrow. I need to go alone to convince him I’m interested in Coco’s services.” He pulled out a kitchen chair, spun it, and sat backwards on it like he was showing off for someone. “He thinks I stole you from Hudson, so you’d better be seen out with someone else. Maybe diamond earrings guy. If we plan it right, the four of us can be at the same place. What’s that vineyard right outside of town? If Boggy and I get there first, we could be waiting for a table in time for him to see you show up on the arm of another man. I’d definitely get his sympathy that way.”
Taylor stared. Her hand gripped the back of the dining room chair. “I’m not having a thing with diamond earring guy. He’s a friend.”
“But you could have a thing with him, right? He wouldn’t mind if he gave you those sparklers.”
Taylor didn’t respond. John Hancock would probably be thrilled to have a friends-with-benefits thing right now. But she wasn’t that kind of girl.
“If Boggy believes I’m interested, he’ll tell me everything. Even if it’s just to talk me out of it. But if he thinks I’m fishing, he’ll clam up. I know how these guys work.” Graham’s crooked grin was irresistible to Taylor, and she found herself relenting. After all, she’d been out with John Hancock when she’d seen Boggy with one of Coco’s “friends.” If he’d spotted her there, it would be added evidence.
“Coco’s friends didn’t kill Molly. Some guy did. We don’t need you to find a girl. We need a girl to find the man. We need…. Asha.”
“Who?”
“My contact from today. Molly’s friend. She wanted to join the site when she saw how good Molly had it. She’d join it to help catch the person who killed her friend.”
“No way. She could get hurt.” He crossed his arms and stared at Taylor.
“What did you come here for?” Taylor limped over to the fridge but only extracted a pitcher of lemon water.
“A story. I’m a journalist.”
“But what did you come to my house for tonight?”
“I owe you one. Two after my interview with Boggy. We didn’t get to compare all of our notes over dinner, did we?” He rested his elbows on the back of the chair.
Taylor poured her glass of cold water. “Why did you meet me at the church?”
“Do you want to collaborate or not?”
“I’m a volunteer. You’re the one getting paid.” She slammed the fridge door shut.
“The story comes first.” Graham’s voice was calm, cool, and collected. “So, any idea of a romantic dinner was out as soon as we found ourselves at dinner with Boggy.”
“Except you spent the whole time talking about that stupid virus.”
“I was building rapport. I know you know what I’m talking about.” Graham sounded tired.
“So that’s it, then. It’s about the contacts and the story.” Taylor felt deflated. She longed to already be upstairs in bed.
“I like to romance a woman a little bit before I take her home for the night,” Graham stated. “Maybe other men don’t. But that’s them, not me. Sorry if I’m a disappointment. If you want, I can leave now.”
The way he’d worded it felt manipulative and reminded her how little she knew him. Was he the kind of man who twisted your thoughts for you to make them worse than they could be? He did earn his living with words. He’d have the skills.
“Or I could stay a little bit longer and we could make a plan. One that might include a romantic dinner.”
“Plans that have an escape clause in case something newsworthy interrupts.” Taylor sipped her cold water. It rolled down her throat like she’d been dehydrated. Maybe that was her only problem. “You know, you’ve never come to Comfort just because.”
He didn’t respond.
“Are you seeing someone in Portland?”
He cleared his throat.
“Ah.”
“I’m not. That’s not what I meant. I’m not seeing anyone.” He held his hands up in surrender.
“Including me.”
“Not that I don’t want to.”
“What’s standing in the way?” Her voice broke and she could have kicked herself. She would never beg for love. Never.
“This little town isn’t just around the corner.”
“Phone calls are cheap.”
“I keep thinking you deserve something a little more satisfying than a long-distance relationship.”
She looked up to keep the tears that smarted in her eyes from manifesting. She’d pinned a lot of hope on this guy and his crooked smile. Spent a lot of hours thinking about him. But it seemed that he hadn’t had the same intensity of interest.
“Do you know how hard it is to find a job in journalism right now? Probably for the rest of all time? I have a job and I’m holding onto it by my fingernails. You have your business and your family. Maybe we have dinner, and I romance you and I stay the night. And it’s amazing. And we fall deeply in love. Then what? I go home and we do it again in six months when someone dies?”
She swallowed.
“Sometimes I’m selfish. When I met you, I wanted you, and I was selfishly glad you broke it off with that bruiser you were seeing. But nothing really came of it, because nothing could.”
“Ever?” She could only get the one word out.
He looked at his hands for what felt like a century. “We could just talk about the story.”
“I’m tired.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” He caught her eye.
“Have you ever loved someone enough that you’d throw everything away for them?” She was locked into those dark eyes. But they seemed to be closed to her.
“No. Have you?”
“No.”
They watched each other in silence for a while.
“If I can get Asha to sign up for the service, she could report back on what she learns. It might be the only way. But also, Asha said she thinks Molly’s boyfriend was called Jack Groening.”
“Nice. I can work that angle while you make a plan with Asha, if you want.” Graham glanced at his watch.
Taylor winced. He really was ready to run. “We can meet up tomorrow. You can stay here, if you don’t want to slog back to your room. No strings. There’s plenty of spare beds.”
“I’ll slog. I’ve got some notes to file and other work. I have to write about more than murders if I want to keep this job. Plus, the virus in Washington State is a big story right now. I’ve got my eye on it, and some contacts. I may have to swing up to Seattle before too long.”
They walked back to the front door. He lingered.
“I don’t think you can know if you love someone enough to leave everything for them in one glance,” Taylor said. “I think that’s what dating is for.”
“You’re right, you know.” He tipped his head and left.
Taylor leaned against the back of the door. Every word he said, every glance was like electricity. But that was just attraction, wasn’t it? And was attraction, such strong, magneti
c attraction, enough?
Chapter Six
Ingrid Quinn wriggled her toes under the featherlight, down-alternative comforter. Angus, also known as Grandpa Quinny, had flipped the switch on the gas fireplace in their generous master bedroom and the little room glowed. She pulled the soft white comforter up to her chin and watched her tall, handsome husband undress. “I’m just tickled with the news from your dinner out.”
“I’m thinking it was none of my business, if you want to know the truth. What does it matter who Benji Pyne is dating? He’s a young man.”
“Darling….” Ingrid purred. Her voice was very different from the one she used with her grandchildren, or other people who needed redirecting. “Benji Pyne turned fifty-two his last birthday. He’s the same age as our Todd.”
“Fifty-two. No kidding.”
“And how old could that child he was with have been?”
“Never can tell with you women.” Angus pulled off his T-shirt, then flexed with a cheeky little smirk. He’d kept fit with all his farming, and never minded showing off for his wife. “But Boggy should have known better. I got him to tell me a little more on the drive home. Said Coco practically begged him as a favor. But the girl was a child. He spotted our Taylor out with what he called her ‘fancy man.’”
“Can’t have been that journalist then,” Ingrid mused.
“No, I expect it was the banker. Said he’d never been so embarrassed as he was spotted out with a kid by another kid.”
“How much did he have to pay to take her out?” Ingrid sat up, and the silky strap of her red nighty fell off her shoulder. She’d also remained fit through the years, though she’d never aimed to be small. Women looked so old when they let themselves get skinny.
“Nothing. He suspects he was being offered a free sample. You know, the big secret is he’s quite well off. Don’t know how Coco figured that one out though.”
“Can you imagine what that poor child must have thought when old Boggy showed up at her door? Here she’d likely been expecting someone twenty years younger.”
