Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
B ucky left a moment ago, and Victor was standing in the front hall looking handsome in a black tailored suit.
She wasn’t sure what had just transpired between the two men but figured it was some kind of pissing contest that guys liked to engage in, so she ignored it.
Victor let out a low whistle. “Have I told you that you look beautiful yet?”
Jane blushed. “Why yes. I believe you mentioned it.”
“Good.” He glanced into the living room. “Did you have to do a lot of renovations?”
She nodded. “Everything is new except for the floors, which we cleaned and buffed. Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“I’d love to.” He looked at his watch. “However, our reservation is in a half hour. Perhaps another time. During the day would be great because I’d like to see the entire farm.”
Jane gathered her coat. “It’s a date.”
Victor helped her with it and put his hand on her back, guiding her out. She turned to lock the door, and then they walked to his car.
“What a perfect evening,” Jane said. She gazed at the sky and took a breath. “The scent of wood burning in a fireplace feels like home.”
“Do you have a fire often?” Victor asked.
“Only on really chilly evenings.” Jane thought back to her last evening with friends sitting around the fire, talking, laughing, bonding over wine and food. Perfect night.
They drove to the Rustic Table, making small talk. Victor found a parking space that someone had just pulled out of near the front door. Otherwise, it would have been a walk. The lot was packed with cars.
“Wow. This place is popular.” Jane looked over the wooden exterior, which originally had been a barn. Twinkling fairy lights lit up the trees. Laughter and conversations flitted through the air. The charred scent of beef and the yeasty smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air.
The ma?tre d’ guided them to a white-clothed table in front of large floor-to-ceiling windows and left them with menus. Soft jazz played in the background. Almost every table was taken.
“I asked for a table overlooking Beaver Lake,” said Victor. He laughed. “Although there isn’t much to see right now.”
Jane glanced around. Whoever owned the restaurant had blended rustic with Old World charm. All the tables had white tablecloths, with a small arrangement of fall flowers and candles on each. An enormous stone fireplace dominated a far wall but wasn’t lit tonight. The romantic atmosphere was subtle yet enchanting.
“People have spoken highly of this restaurant. Farm-to-table, innovative delicious dinners…” Jane smiled at Victor. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Here I am in a beautiful setting with a beautiful woman.” He sighed and reached for her hands. “I’m a lucky man.”
“Oh you!” she chuckled.
The server arrived and asked if he could start them off with cocktails or wine. Victor raised a brow at Jane.
“I’ll just have water and wine with my meal.”
“Give me a glass of the eighteen-year-old Dalmore for now. We’ll order wine with dinner,” said Victor.
“Ah, a scotch drinker,” Jane said. “I’ve never acquired a taste for it.” She picked up the menu. “So many choices, and they all sound delicious.”
“Please order whatever you want,” Victor said. “I’m going to start with the Pemaquid oysters with the mignonette sauce. I don’t have oysters very often.”
“Where are they harvested?” she asked.
“I believe Maine.”
“Hmm. In keeping with this seafood theme, I’ll have the lobster bisque, which is my very favorite soup, and then”—she scrunched her brows—“the cedar-planked salmon.”
Victor nodded. “Sounds good. Although I’m a beef guy. The surf and turf will satisfy my appetite and keep this seafood theme going.”
Jane laughed. The server came back with the scotch and filled their water glasses. Victor gave him their appetizer order, and the server left.
“Finally, we’re alone,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“True, except for the sixty or more people surrounding us.”
Victor smiled, took a swallow of his scotch and placed the glass on the table. “So, Jane, tell me about yourself.”
“That encompasses a lot of ground,” she teased. “I could start from when I was born until today.”
“If you want. I’m all ears,” Victor replied. He gave her a small smile that made his eyes crinkle.
Jane laughed. She hadn’t had this much fun on a date in … well, years. “I moved up to Vermont months ago. When I saw the farm, even though it was in terrible condition, I bought it. I love the rolling hills, Elephant Mountain, the peacefulness of it.”
“So you moved here by yourself?”
“Yeah. My husband died a while ago, and I needed a new start. Boston held too many memories.”
Victor furrowed his brows and rubbed her arm. “Hey, hey. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
She shook her head. “I’m sad but not melancholy. Besides, it’s been a while. I have happy memories of my husband.”
“I would imagine. He was a lucky man,” Victor said. “Why did you choose Beaver Creek, besides loving a dilapidated farm that’s probably a money pit?”
She sighed. “I know. I’m taking it slow and renovating what is most important first. The barn was done first as well as several rooms in my house and fencing for the animals. Eventually, I’ll finish the farmhouse.”
“So, who is Bucky? A boyfriend? A friend?”
“Bucky is my farmhand. He takes care of the animals and greenhouse.” She took a sip of water. “Enough about me. What brings you to Beaver Creek? Have you found any land?”
Victor leaned back in his chair, swirling his scotch. The amber liquid glinted in the light. “Not yet. I’m still looking for the perfect area. It’s a big investment.”
Jane nodded. “It’s so worth it when you find the right spot.”
Victor’s gaze sharpened. “I heard rumors they found a skeleton in the pond. That must have been a shock.”
“To say the least,” Jane replied. “The sheriff is investigating.”
“I’m sure he is,” Victor murmured, taking another sip of his drink. “Any idea who it was?”
Jane felt a slight chill running down her spine. Ethan was trying to keep specifics of Thornton’s death under wraps and hadn’t said much when she was in the station house. There was something else going on, and her Spidey senses were up.
“A David Thornton,” she replied. “He bid against me for the farm and lost. That’s all I know.”
Victor nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think the previous owner had anything to do with his death?”
“Gosh, I don’t think so. Mr. Jenkins is a hundred, I think. The farm was abandoned when I bought it.”
“You never know what secrets a place holds,” Victor replied, his dark eyes searching her face. “This must pique your interest, especially since you’re a mystery writer.”
Jane couldn’t deny the mystery surrounding Thornton’s death had aroused her curiosity. “Well, I’m not writing mysteries anymore. I’m more interested in the future now.”
Victor seemed to consider her words. “I agree. The future is more important than the past. But just be careful. Sometimes digging into the past can bring up things that are better left buried.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The server returned with their appetizers. Jane was grateful for the distraction and dipped her spoon into the bisque, savoring its briny flavor.
The conversation had taken a strange turn. It was almost like Victor was warning her about something. She wondered what other secrets were hidden on the farm.