Chapter 5 #2
"Let's eat in the hotel restaurant. I'll explain it there." She pulled the door closed behind her.
Walking down the hallway, Cadie was acutely aware of his presence and the scent of his cologne. She clutched the book bag strap, using it to ground herself.
The hotel restaurant was cozy, with only a handful of tables occupied. The hostess led them to a corner table that offered privacy. Soft lighting cast everything in a warm glow, and instrumental music played at a volume that allowed for easy conversation.
Barrett held her chair, and Cadie slid into it, setting her book bag on the floor beside her feet. The hostess handed them menus and promised their server would be right with them.
When the waitress left, Barrett leaned forward. "What's going on, Cadie?"
"I went to my aunt's house this afternoon," she said, keeping her voice low. "The attorney gave me the keys to collect personal items."
Barrett waited for her to continue, but the waitress appeared before she could say more. Cadie ordered wine and Barrett chose whiskey.
When the waitress explained the dinner specials, Cadie said, "Could you give us a few minutes with the drinks? We'll order dinner in a bit."
The waitress smiled. "Of course, take your time."
The drinks arrived promptly, and Cadie took a couple of sips of her wine. Then she reached down for her book bag and pulled out the journal, setting it on the table between them. "This is my aunt's personal journal," she said. "I found it in a locked drawer in her desk."
Barrett looked at the journal.
"There's an entry from three months before she died." Cadie opened to the marked page. "I think you should read it."
She slid the journal across the table. Barrett picked it up carefully, scanning the page.
Then, in a soft voice, he said, "Your aunt hadn't been feeling quite right." He looked up. "She had trouble describing it, except that her energy was lower than usual and she needed more rest." He looked back at the entry. "Even playing piano quickly tired her out."
Cadie watched Barrett's expression, seeing concern.
He took a swig of his whiskey. "Your aunt notes that at eighty-one, she expected to feel her age." Then he put his finger on the page. "And here she says Olivia told her that increased fatigue was normal, and the doctor also mentioned she should expect that."
Cadie leaned forward. "Then she wrote that she still felt something was off, even though she trusted Olivia."
When Barrett finished reading, he said, "This is concerning."
Cadie nodded, relieved that he understood the significance.
"Did you read the other entries?"
"I flipped through them," she said. "Some aren't related to the investigation, just daily life and thoughts about music and the conservatory. But I haven't had a chance to read it thoroughly."
Barrett closed the journal and handed it back. "I'm sure you'll read the rest of it to see if there's anything else your aunt wrote that might be helpful."
The waitress returned to take their orders, interrupting the conversation. Barrett ordered a steak, and Cadie chose the salmon.
Then Barrett took a swig of his whiskey. "Tell me about the house. What was it like?"
Cadie wrapped her hands around her wine glass. "It was as though she just stepped out. Everything was still in place—her piano, her photographs, her sheet music. She had a picture of me from high school displayed on the mantel."
Her voice broke slightly on the last words. Barrett's expression softened.
"She kept track of you," he said gently. "She cared about you."
"I should have stayed in touch," Cadie said, twirling the wine glass. "She was alone with a caregiver, and I was in New Orleans living my life without giving her a thought."
"You were building your career and following your passion. I'm sure she understood that."
Cadie shook her head. "That doesn't make it right. She was family, the only connection I had left to my father. And I just disappeared into my own life."
Barrett reached across the table and covered her hand with his. The contact sent warmth through her. "You're here now. You're trying to find out what happened to her. That matters."
She looked down at their hands, his darker skin against her paler fingers. The simple touch felt significant, loaded with meaning beyond comfort. She should pull away, maintain distance—but she didn't want to.
The meals arrived, and Barrett withdrew his hand to make room for the plates. Cadie immediately missed the personal closeness.
For a few minutes, dinner proceeded in silence. The food was good, but Cadie barely tasted it. Her mind kept returning to her aunt's words.
"We need to talk to Olivia," Barrett said, cutting into his steak. "We need to hear her perspective on your aunt's final months."
"I can't help but be worried."
Barrett's expression remained calm. "We don't know anything yet. Let's gather facts first before we jump to conclusions. We need more information, so we can understand."
"You're right, of course." Cadie watched Barrett as he ate, noting the way his hands moved and admiring the strong line of his jaw. He looked up and caught her staring. Her eyes met his for a moment too long. She looked away, taking a sip of wine to cover her reaction.
She tried to ignore how Barrett's shirt fit across his shoulders or the way his voice dropped when he spoke to her—but she couldn't. Each moment reminded her of what they'd had so long ago, made her wonder what could have been.
Barrett's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine…just thinking about tomorrow."
"We'll go together," he said. "I'll contact Olivia tonight and arrange a meeting. You can ask about your aunt's final months, and I'll observe."
"What are you looking for?"
"Inconsistencies, body language, the way she responds to questions." He took another sip. "People tell you things even when they're trying to hide them. You just have to know how to listen."
Cadie believed him. His SEAL training and years as an investigator had taught him to read people. She felt safer knowing he would be with her when she met Olivia.
Dinner ended and Barrett paid the bill despite Cadie's half-hearted protest. Then they were standing with the journal back in Cadie's book bag and the evening was over.
Barrett escorted her through the lobby and into the elevator. The hotel was quiet, as likely most guests were either out for the evening or settled in their rooms. At the top of the stairs, Cadie turned down the hallway. Her room was first. She stopped at her door and turned to face Barrett.
He stood close, not crowding her but near enough that she could feel warmth radiating from him. His dark eyes had an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Get some rest," he said in a soft voice.
"Thank you for being here, for helping with all of this." She gestured vaguely, encompassing the investigation, the journal, everything.
"I'm not going anywhere, Cadie."
The promise in his words went beyond the investigation. She heard it in his tone, saw it in his eyes. Maybe he meant he wasn't leaving her this time.
The moment stretched between them. He was close enough to kiss. All she had to do was lean forward, close the distance, and see if his lips felt like she remembered.
But she couldn't—not now.
She stepped back, breaking the spell. "Good night, Barrett."
She imagined that she saw disappointment in his expression. Then she unlocked her door and slipped inside, closing it behind her before she could change her mind. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, her heart pounding.
Cadie had come to Charleston to settle her aunt's estate and understand what happened. She hadn't come looking for romance, but her life rarely went according to plan.