CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah Leigh sat across from Nate at the Doughnut Den surrounded by so much sweetness her teeth ached.
No, she didn’t believe in coincidences at Christmastime.
Not in South Hill, where memories lingered and its small-town stories always eventually got told.
She didn’t think that locket was a coincidence, and neither was running into Nate.
With my luck, it was more like the devil tempting me into another relationship that’ll end horribly.
And so she tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him. So far, he seemed to be buying the act.
They had barely finished their doughnuts before she pulled out her notebook and started scribbling. Names. Places. Questions. The kind that didn’t let go until you followed them to the end.
Her phone buzzed. “It’s Birdie.” She read the text to him.
BIRDIE: 411 on locket mystery that’ll bake your biscuits.
“That’s colorful.” Nate shook his head. “She ought to trademark half the things she says.”
“Oh, there’s more coming.” She waited patiently as the dot-dot-dots pulsed. “Here we go.”
BIRDIE: Old post office has boxes of undelivered mail.
Nate leaned over her shoulder. “Do we even want to know what that means?”
“Probably not,” Hannah Leigh said, grinning. “We aren’t even finished running down her first lead.”
“I got this.” He lifted his phone out and dialed Birdie. “What is this text you sent to Hannah Leigh about undelivered mail?” He nodded, followed by a series of mm hmmm’s and an eye roll. “Thanks. Okay, bye.”
“What?” Hannah Leigh said before he even lowered the phone. “What did she say?”
“According to Birdie’s cousin’s neighbor’s uncle—”
“Oh Lordy.”
“Right? Yeah, well he was a mail carrier in the sixties, and he told her there are boxes of undeliverable mail from that time still stored at the old post office site,” Nate said, half-grinning. “We can get the key from the realtor.”
Hannah Leigh blinked, trying to process it. “Undeliverable mail? What are we looking for?”
“Well, Edna Sue told Birdie we might have a name for the woman in the locket. So, Birdie thinks we might find a piece of mail that never got delivered to Ruthie.” Nate tilted his head, amused. “I agree. It’s a stretch.” He shrugged.
“I tell you what. People in this town spread gossip faster than I can live it. We just found that name.” She glanced around the Doughnut Den, hoping no one was overhearing their conversation.
“I know. Birdie is something, and the mail thing feels like a long shot, even for Birdie, but what if…”
“It definitely has me curious,” she admitted. “What are you thinking?”
Nate angled closer, his eyes catching hers with a spark of mischief. “Looks to me like we’re going to search through boxes of undelivered mail.”
“And maybe find something from or to Ruthie or Henry,” she said, though doubt colored her voice. She took another bite of her doughnut.
He snickered under his breath. “Not the proverbial needle in a haystack exactly, but pretty darn close. I’ll check in with the guy who has the listing at the post office and see when we can get the key.”
“I’ll do some online searches and see what I can dig up,” she said. “Speaking of Birdie and her hunches, she said something about your uncle being in love with Margaret Jane before he married Elaine. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, but he and Aunt Elaine were barely out of school when they married. I figured whatever came before was just young love—the kind that usually burns out fast.”
She caught herself wondering if the pull between them was real—a spark that had never quite gone out—or the echo of what she’d been missing since Evan. The thought made her heart flutter, warmth and uncertainty tangling until she forced herself to breathe and look away.
“Birdie thinks the mayor’s been acting off ever since we found the locket,” Hannah Leigh said, her voice a touch steadier than she felt.
“She’s convinced he has some connection to it—maybe even through Margaret Jane, now that she’s back in town.
” Hannah Leigh met Nate’s eyes again. “What if Birdie’s right? ”
“She’s right more than I’d like to admit, but I don’t know—”
“About the locket,” she clarified. “And the letters. Or the mayor? He has been cranky. Have you seen a difference in him since we found the locket?”
“He’s always been a curmudgeon if you ask me. But if he knows about the locket, it’s because Birdie told him. But the locket's timing doesn’t fit. I doubt he’d have been buying gold lockets as a teenager.”
“Right. 1964 is on the locket, plus the initials don’t match. Could he have gotten it from a pawn shop?”
“Possible, but I don’t know about this one.” Nate exhaled through his nose, then muttered, “You know Birdie also thinks her cat communicates with ghosts.”
“I hate to admit that doesn’t surprise me.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t even know what to say about that but have to admit the mayor’s been acting strange.”
Nate said. “It’s practically his brand.”
“Does that run in your family?” Hannah Leigh tried not to smile, but the expression on his face tickled her.
She hoped the comment about his uncle did not offend him.
“I’m kidding. I couldn’t resist, but seriously, she said something that stuck with me.
She said guilt and regret were powerful motivators.
And honestly? He’s been a little weird with me.
He barely looked at me at the Chamber meeting.
Didn’t even complain about the cocoa prices. ”
Nate froze. “Wait. He didn’t complain about the price of the cocoa?”
“Not a whimper.”
He paused, holding her gaze. “Okay, say Birdie’s holiday soap opera theory isn’t completely off the rails. Then what?”
Hannah Leigh sighed and glanced away. “I wish I knew. She’s spun so many wild ideas that I caught myself thinking it might be her locket and she’s just reeling us in for entertainment.”
“Now that would be something.” Nate shook his head. “Birdie’s highly intuitive, but I’ve never known Birdie to be tricky. It would be an unexpected twist.”
Hannah Leigh shrugged. “Even if there’s no big story, getting the locket back to a relative matters most. We’re close now that we have those names. This could be a special Christmas keepsake to someone.”
“I agree. And we have our RD and HB match.” Nate’s brow furrowed. “Maybe we start a list of other possibilities.”
She grinned. “Should we skip the post office altogether?”
“I’m not saying I believe Birdie Horn,” he replied, tugging his coat against the cool night air, “but I’ve learned to stop betting against her. I say we give it a one-hour glance. If we don’t come up with anything, we shelve it. Deal?”
He stretched his hand to hers, she grabbed his, and they shook on the plan. “I’ll text as soon as I get the key.”
A flicker of something unexpected filled Hannah Leigh. This small-town mystery had cracked something open. Curiosity. Connection. Maybe even…chemistry.