Chapter Ten #2
"You haven't found them yet?" I asked. I would've expected Amelia to make it her life's mission to locate the secret compartments once she'd remembered their existence. Especially after we’d realized it was possible they were tied to my mother and missing brother.
The letters had been in one compartment, who knew what might be in the others?
"We were looking," Amelia said, "but then there was the whole thing with Sophie’s husband, and we got a little distracted."
Understandable. Not long after Sophie and Gage got together, Sophie's dead husband had come back for her and ended up kidnapping Amelia. I could see how that would've been distracting.
"So you really have no idea where they are?" I asked. I could help with that. It was like a treasure hunt. And if it led to answers about my mother, her mysterious lover, and my missing brother—how could I say no?
I expected Riley to leave us to our search in the library and work at the desk in my sitting room, but he brought his laptop to the library and worked on whatever it was he did while we searched.
I snuck glances at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to drool every time I saw him with those glasses on.
Yum.
Still wearing the T-shirt that stretched around his biceps, with those glasses and the serious expression on his face, Riley was drool-worthy. Painfully so.
When he caught me staring and shot me a wink, I felt my cheeks flush red. Perving over Riley was one thing. Getting caught at it was another.
Looking for secret compartments in the library was a lot less exciting in practice than it had sounded at the breakfast table. The library was lined, floor to ceiling, with bookshelves and cabinets, custom-made in quarter-sawn, dark stained oak.
It made for a gorgeous, cozy room, but all those shelves and cabinets also created a million places someone could have hidden a secret compartment.
Amelia was perched on the couch, close to the unlit fireplace, bossing Sophie around as Sophie searched.
Amelia claimed she was too old to be sitting on the floor and Sophie had the patience to put up with it.
Probably because Sophie was both patient and sweet, and at almost eighty Amelia was too old to be sitting on the floor.
Methodically, Sophie emptied shelves of books and searched for something, anything, that felt out of place. A crack or bump in the wood. A lever or switch.
We found nothing.
I was on a short stepladder, checking the shelves closest to the door.
After I finished the first two, I started getting bored.
There was no guarantee there actually were two more secret compartments, only Amelia's memories of her childhood.
And even if they were there, it didn't mean we'd find anything about my missing brother.
Still, I didn't have anything else to do for the moment. I might as well help.
I lifted books, three or four at a time, and felt behind and around where they'd been, then replaced them and moved on to the next section. It was easy, mind-numbingly easy, and provided no distraction from Riley, sitting in an armchair behind me, focused on his laptop.
I was trying to ignore him. I'm pretty sure it looked like I was ignoring him, but I was aware of every shift of his body. The sound of his fingers on the keyboard, the way he cleared his throat.
My eye landed on the engagement ring on my finger, and my heart beat a little harder. There'd been a time when I thought he might give me one of these for real. And I would've accepted him, happily. No, more than happily. I'd been head over heels for Riley Flynn.
And you almost got him killed, I reminded myself.
If you'd stayed, he might not be alive today.
It was true; he might not. I could armchair quarterback the past all I wanted, but the truth was, Riley had been safer with me gone.
And until we figured out who was behind all this, no one would be safe while I was home.
The whole thing sucked, and I was in no position to be listening to Riley clear his throat and thinking about kissing him. Not going to happen. We were stuck together, and it wasn't fair to put him in that situation.
Mrs. W came in, interrupting my reverie, carrying a tray of tea and shortbread. I saw the cookies with a new perspective since Gage had told me Abel made them for Mrs. W.
Sneaky, because shortbread was kind of a family thing. My mother had loved it, I loved it, I knew Aiden did, and it was Aunt Amelia's favorite cookie. That was a problem because Aunt Amelia wasn't supposed to eat sweets.
Mrs. W placed the tray on the coffee table, within arm’s reach of Amelia. On her way out of the room, she said to me, "Find anything yet?"
"Nope. I've only done three shelves," I said.
Mrs. W looked around the room, then back at me, and shook her head. "You've got your work cut out for you," she said.
"And you're sure you don't know anything?" I asked.
"I promise you I do not."
Mrs. W left, and I couldn't help but notice that Aunt Amelia had slid closer to the tea tray, and the forbidden cookies. Sophie didn't seem to have noticed. That was odd. Not Aunt Amelia going for cookies—Aunt Amelia trying to cage forbidden sweets was pretty much a guarantee in any situation.
But, Sophie not noticing was…suspicious.
As if she knew I was thinking about her, Sophie glanced up and saw me looking at the tea tray and Amelia, a question in my eyes. She shook her head, the movement so slight I almost missed it. Hmm. Interesting.
I picked up another short stack of books and slid my hand against the cool wood of the shelf, fingertips probing for a change in texture. Nothing. I was sliding the stack of books back into place when behind me, Amelia let out a garbled shout.
I shoved the books back on the shelf and turned to see Amelia spitting out the shortbread cookie, the crumbs spewing everywhere—her skirt, the carpet, and some in her hand. Her lips were pursed as if she'd been sucking on a lemon.
To my utter shock, Sophie burst out laughing.
Riley, warned by Amelia's half choking splutters and the crumbs of shortbread flying everywhere, put his laptop aside and poured Amelia a steaming cup of tea. She sipped at it cautiously, then thirstily, trying to wash away the shortbread residue in her mouth.
Riley picked up one of the squares of shortbread and took a small bite off the corner.
His face instantly twisted, though he swallowed instead of spitting it out.
I climbed down from the ladder and tried a piece myself.
Normally, Able’s shortbread was buttery and sweet with just a hint of salt, crumbly and rich and perfect.
This piece was crumbly, but not sweet. I couldn't begin to guess what he’d used, but the shortbread looked completely normal and tasted bitterly, pungently sour.
Amelia's nose should have alerted her to the coming assault on her tastebuds, but her sense of smell wasn’t what it had been when she was younger, and she’d missed it.
Amelia finished her cup of tea and stood, brushing the crumbs off her skirt onto the carpet. Beside her, Sophie was still giggling, her cheeks pink and her eyes alight with laughter. She was immune to Amelia's glare and completely unafraid of the bony finger pointed at her.
"You knew!" Amelia said, outraged.
Sophie let out another peal of laughter and said, "Of course, I knew. When was the last time you got that close to a cookie without me spotting you? If you hadn't been so greedy, you would've realized something was up.”
"You should be ashamed of yourself," Amelia said.
Sophie shook her head and stood, surveying the mess on the carpet.
"I'm going to get a vacuum." Looking at Amelia, she said, "You had this coming, and you know it.
Pay attention. Don't mess with Mrs. W. You can pull all the pranks you want, but leave her out of it.
Sour shortbread was just the beginning."
"I'm going to brush my teeth," Amelia announced and stalked from the room.
Sophie laughed again and picked up the tea tray. "I should probably feel bad, but she really did have it coming. Anyway, she should know better. No one messes with Mrs. W in this house."
Sophie left with the tea tray, and Riley and I were alone. He was grinning, his hazel eyes alight behind his glasses. Remembering the plate of shortbread, I said, "They looked so innocent. I wonder if Abel has any real shortbread in the kitchen."
"You knew something was up," Riley said, quietly.
I shrugged a shoulder. "Sophie has eyes in the back of her head. I had a feeling something was off when she let Amelia get that close to the tray. And Gage told me Abel was sweet on Mrs. W." I said that last part under my breath, just in case.
Riley raised one eyebrow, his grin spreading wider. "Getting revenge for his woman?"
"Something like that," I said, “Though I have no idea what's going on between them."
Riley's eyes were fixed on mine, warm and amused. "I bet I can find out," he said stepping closer, so we wouldn't be overheard.
I leaned in, feeling his body heat radiate through his T-shirt, smelling the woodsy, clean scent of his skin. "How can you find out?" I asked.
"I have my ways," he said, his smile in his voice.
I leaned closer, swaying into him, drawn by his heat and smell and the sound of his voice in my ears. He was only inches away, and for one crazy second, I was absolutely sure I was going to kiss him.
His lips parted, maybe to speak, maybe to close the distance and land on mine.
His phone rang, and we jolted apart. I knew that tone. It was the front gate, and if the front gate was calling, something was up. Stepping back, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited, braced for whatever was coming next.