Chapter 11
I never miss a local farmer’s market in the fall. Half the time, I don’t even really need anything, but it’s a small town and it’s something to do. It gets Jess outside. It gets me outside. And I love the smell of the leaves in the air this time of year. I could walk among them all morning.
That’s exactly what I told Jameson I was doing today when he texted me last night.
I hadn’t heard from him all week, and then he messaged me out of the blue, asking if I was free today.
He never even mentioned houses, now that I think of it, but I assumed that’s what he was inquiring about.
When I told him about the market, he seemed interested.
Had questions. I guess that’s normal, considering he wants to buy a whole expensive property around here.
It only makes sense to want to know more about the area and what goes on.
After I told him I planned on stopping by here in the morning, he left it at that. He didn’t mention house hunting at all, so I didn’t push it.
“Can I go sit with Mrs. Avery?” Jess asks, lighting up when she spots the middle-aged woman’s booth crammed with jewelry racks. Mrs. Avery has a whimsical vibe with her long red hair, turquoise poncho, and relaxed demeanor. Her jewelry matches her perfectly.
“Sure. I’ll walk you over.” I catch a subtle eye roll, but she doesn’t object.
“Hello, ladies,” Mrs. Avery says as we approach.
She and her husband have been coming to the restaurant for years.
Every Saturday night unless they’re out of town.
Though I don’t usually work weekends anymore, I know details like how she has two estranged brothers, two children both off at college on the East Coast, and that she can’t stand when Mr. Avery makes them late for dinner.
She’s great with Jess, and Jess—my old soul—loves hanging out with her at the booth.
“Beautiful autumn day today,” I say with a smile.
“You know it’s not technically fall until the end of the month, right, hun?”
“I will not hear of it, Victoria. The leaves are already beginning to change, the air has a cool crispness to it, and my favorite pumpkin coffee is back. It’s fall.”
She laughs, holding her hands up in surrender, bangles clanging. “Why don’t you go take a stroll? Peruse a little. We’ve got things covered here.”
“Yeah. Go ahead,” Jess chimes in.
“Okay, okay. You girls don’t want me. I get it.”
Mrs. Avery clicks her tongue and waves me off, then begins showing Jess what I assume are some of her newest pieces.
I wander aimlessly, not really looking at anything. It’s always the same: produce, jams, face painting, candles…
My mind drifts to Jameson, and his intense yet soft gaze.
I still can’t shake the feeling that he was legitimately flirting with me last weekend.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’ve been hoping he’ll contact me again.
But of course he will. I’m his realtor now.
Unless he changes his mind about this place altogether, that is.
A shoulder bumps into me roughly, jolting me from my thoughts.
“Carly! Sorry about that.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay.” Then I look up and find myself standing face-to-face with one of our very own officers. “Officer Bradley.”
“Don’t be. It was my fault.” He flashes one of those wide, golden-retriever grins at me. He’s a nice guy. Comes into the restaurant for lunch now and then. I’ve never been sure what his personal situation is, but I’ve never pried.
“So, I heard you were showing a couple big properties?”
“That’s right.” No clue who he heard that from, but around here, it could have been anyone.
“How’s that going?”
“It’s great. We haven’t found the right one yet, but we will.”
“Good. That’s great exposure for you.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
A thought hits me before he walks away. “Hey, do you know much about the big empty house up on Evergreen?” Something about that house just felt…off. I’ve been curious about its history all week, but I found practically nothing when I did a little searching.
He rubs his chin, looking off into the distance with his dark brown eyes.
“The Evergreen house…” he muses. Then realization lights his face. “You know what, I do know something. An old case.”
Intrigue stirs in me. “What kind of case?”
“Back in the seventies, maybe? No, maybe sixties. Somewhere around there…a young married couple lived there. Then the woman went missing. They never figured out what happened to her. The obvious suspect was the husband, but I don’t think there was ever a shred of proof. The case eventually died.”
“Hmm.” I wonder if the things I found belonged to her. Nothing seemed like clues to an old murder case, though.
Then again, I did find them in the floorboard of an attic. That alone is a little suspicious.
“Oh, and the husband’s dad? He was the sheriff at the time. So even if there was a case…who knows. Different times.”
“I found a box in the floors,” I blurt out.
His lips turn down at the corners. “Anything interesting in it?”
“Not really. A couple photos of a woman, a hairbrush, some barrettes, a little jewelry.”
He nods, pensive. “Is it still there?’
“No…” He raises his brows, like he already knows. “I took it home with me. Because I have a morbid curiosity, apparently.”
He laughs.
“Should I…do you want me to turn it in to you guys, or…?”
“Hmm,” he ponders, scratching his chin again. “Probably should. It’s a cold case, and most evidence is probably gone forever, if there ever was any. Best to see if we can use it.”
“Okay. I’ll drop it off at the station tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He begins to walk off, then turns back. “Have a good night.”
“You too. Thank you.”
I watch him go, then yank my hand down, realizing I’ve been waving long after he turned.
Chills run through me, thinking about that old creepy house and what might have happened there.
It was such a long time ago, but still…it’s tragic.
I guess my instincts about the place were right.
I hope that whatever happened to the woman, she found peace eventually.
After shaking off that lingering feeling, I sneak a peek at Jess to make sure she’s doing okay, then head to another table to grab my favorite spiked apple cider.
No one makes it like Moira. She tries to fill the large cup all the way to the brim, but I insist she only give me a miniature portion today. I just want a taste.
“Now that one I’m willing to try.”
I can’t help the smile forming as I recognize the voice just behind me. Not right in my ear, but much closer than a stranger would dare.
Moira freezes mid-motion, her mouth slightly open as her gaze travels past me. I’d bet money she’s staring at a certain partially Irish businessman who dresses nothing like a businessman.
Actually, I don’t even know if businessman is the right word. I hardly know anything about what he does.
I try to steel myself before turning around at a leisurely pace.
I meet his gaze before I say anything, just in case I’m wrong. But I know I’m not. “Jameson.” My voice comes out entirely too high for my liking, and my stupid giddy smile won’t go away.
“Carly.” There’s that lilt that again. I swear it’s stronger when he says my name. Or maybe I’m imagining that.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, you made it sound so festive I thought I’d come check it out. Get to know the area a little more.
“Well, good. I think that’s a great idea.”
He nods, slipping his hands in his black jeans. He’s wearing another white T-shirt that fits just right.
“What else do you have planned?”
He shrugs, face relaxed and unreadable. “Nothing. I’m about to have a pretty flexible schedule, so I’m winging it from now on. Mostly”
“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to entertain you around here.”
A faint smirk tugs at his mouth. “I’m sure I will.”
“Oh! So I just ran into one of the town sheriffs, and guess what?”
“What?”
“I asked him about the house. You know, the creepy one where I found the box?”
“Yeah?” His gaze brightens with curiosity.
“He said a woman went missing there fifty or sixty years ago. They assumed she was murdered, but her body was never found. They suspected the husband but could never prove it.”
Jameson raises his brows, then narrows his eyes on me. “Interesting. But no body? That seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It was a very long time ago. Easier to get away with things back then. Easier to hide it.”
“Well, you would know better than me. I don’t watch those crime shows. More of a rom-com or comedy guy.”
I laugh. “Really? You? Is The Lord of the Rings a comedy?”
“Maybe. It has its moments.”
“Anyway, when it comes to fiction, I always say: no body equals still alive. But in real life…it usually means the worst.”
He nods his head, mulling that over.
I sigh and take a sip of my drink. Delicious. “Anyway. Enough about that. Saturday markets are my favorite, and I still have some bouncing around to do.”
Then it hits me that I left Moira hanging this whole time. I didn’t even pay for my drink yet.
“Oh.” I whirl back to her. Sure enough, she’s watching us with far too much interest. “Sorry about that, Mo. How much do I owe you?”
“Actually,” Jameson appears beside me, pulling out his wallet, “could you add another one to that?” He hands her a couple bills.
“No, please. It’s okay.”
“I insist.” He flashes me a side grin. But not the cocky kind. Behind those piercing eyes, I sense a gentle kindness about him. I wonder if he lets that part of him show during heated boardroom meetings. Or whatever it is he does on a day-to-day basis.
“Oh, just let it happen,” Moira says, smiling as she snatches the cash. Somehow, she makes it sound dirtier than it should be.
“Thanks, Mo,” I mutter begrudgingly, shooting her a look as she hands him a cup.
“You’re welcome.” She’s far too chipper as she wiggles her fingers at us in dismissal.
“Thanks, Mo,” Jameson echoes as we step away.
“Anytime!” she calls after us.