Chapter Eighteen
WHEN ARCHER SAID HE WAS TAKING HER ON A DATE, CORDELIA DIDN’T know what to expect. Archer wasn’t what she’d call a predictable sort. He was just as liable to take her to a possum roast in a barnyard hayloft as he was to bring her to a five-star restaurant with all the fixings.
Since he didn’t give her a dress code, she ended up going with a cotton sundress she’d gotten from Tilly’s Closet, the dress shop on the corner of Main.
The owner, Tilly Gomez-Esteban, had been a grade ahead of Cordelia and spent a few years living in Austin before coming back to Sarsaparilla Falls to care for her father.
She made polite conversation with Cordelia, but it was clear she didn’t remember her from school or approve of her current position at the Chickadee. At least she wasn’t nasty like Edna.
Cordelia ended up walking out of the shop with a butter-yellow dress that hit just below her knees, with little white flowers embroidered into the gauzy fabric.
It was the softest piece of clothing she owned, and she wondered if wearing it would send the wrong message.
She didn’t want Archer to start thinking she was the kind of woman who picked wildflowers in an open field with a baby on each hip.
Her professional attire was a much more comfortable fit for her personality, but it didn’t feel right for a date, so here she stood in her apartment, wringing her hands and second-guessing all the poor decisions that had led her up to this point.
Daisy had come over earlier to help Cordelia with her hair and makeup, and it turned out Daisy had a deft hand for a natural look; she just preferred the big hair and bright lips that had become her signature over the years.
The result of her subtler work left Cordelia stunned.
She’d worried she’d end up looking like she had on the night she’d shown up at Archer’s office in a trench coat and not much else, but Daisy had curled her hair into loose flowing ringlets and touched up her eyes just enough to make them shine a little brighter.
“You’re going to have that man eating out of your hand by the end of the night, Miss Cordelia.” Daisy dashed a light layer of blush over Cordelia’s cheeks. “I don’t think you even realize what kind of power you wield.”
“I think I’m beginning to learn.”
Cordelia had never considered herself particularly powerful or standout in any way, but living with the chicks had changed something in her.
It gave her a whole new level of respect for women who knew their worth and lived on their own terms. She didn’t even realize she’d built her entire sense of self around the expectations of others until she broke from the mold she’d created to cope with her past and started a new life outside of society’s definition of pleasing.
Daisy kissed her on the cheek, then scolded herself and removed the lipstick stain before giving her a hug and exiting her apartment. Leaving Cordelia alone to stew. She’d just talked herself out of the whole date idea when Archer knocked on her front door.
He handed her a bouquet of pink carnations. “These always reminded me of you.”
“Carnations remind you of me? Why is that?” Both surprised and delighted, Cordelia set the flowers near her sink to tend to when she got home.
“Their scent. A little sweet. A little spicy.” His mouth ticked up on one side in a crooked grin. “I sent you a letter with a picture I’d drawn of them when you moved away, though you probably don’t remember that.”
“Those were carnations?” Cordelia choked on a laugh. Unbelievable. All those years she thought he’d been comparing her to a pile of garbage.
“Okay, that’s a fair question.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My art skills weren’t the best at ten. I guess that explains why you didn’t write me back? Broke my heart.”
“I thought you hated me.” Everything she ever thought she’d known about Archer Reed-Smythe had just gotten turned on its head. She wasn’t sure how to process it. “You always said the meanest things, and you were such a troublemaker.”
“I’d like to blame that on being a dumb kid.” He gave her a look. “But I’m still known to cause trouble from time to time.”
Cordelia pursed her lips. “I don’t doubt that.”
“Pretty sure I’ve been in nothing but trouble since you’ve come back to town.” He offered her his arm like a proper gentleman in a black-and-white movie.
Milkmaids couldn’t dream of churning butter as smooth as Archer. She wasn’t used to dating people with moves. Most of her past lovers had about as much charisma as a ream of printer paper. They were easy to manage. Uncomplicated. Neutral.
Archer wasn’t any of those things.
They passed by Belinda Sue’s room, and three sets of eyes peeked through slats in the closed blinds.
The chicks would be expecting company of their own any minute, now that the Chickadee was busier than ever, but they cleared their schedule to watch their madam leave on her first date in years like a pack of protective aunties.
This must’ve been what all those other people who had big, meddling extended families felt like, and she’d be lying if she’d said it didn’t feel nice to have someone looking out for her for once.
Archer opened the passenger side for Cordelia, and warmth bloomed over her face as his gaze lingered on her bare legs before he closed the door.
As they drove into town, he talked about a case he was working on involving a high-profile criminal named Sean O’Leary, who was trying to control the oil fields in the area by taking over the small towns that made up a county voting bloc.
Archer couldn’t say too much on account of official business, but if Cordelia was to read between the lines, it sounded like Sean O’Leary had his sights set on Sarsaparilla Falls.
Twenty minutes outside of town, near the town of Cherry Hill, Archer pulled up to a Mexican restaurant with open patio seating and twinkle lights threaded through the lattice panels that sectioned off the space.
The drone of cicadas hummed in the air. While the restaurant looked as though it had popped up in the middle of nowhere, they couldn’t be that far from town.
The parking lot was packed and the sound of conversation and laughter filtered out the open doors.
“La Mariposa Plateada is the best-kept secret in Cherry Hill.” Archer took Cordelia’s hand as he helped her out of his truck, his eyes once again drifting to the places where her bare skin was exposed to the cool night air. “It’s owned by Martina Ruiz’s family.”
“I didn’t know her family owned a restaurant.” Cordelia had spent plenty of time in Martina’s company at the library, and she never mentioned it.
“It’s not something she makes public anymore. People used to suck up to her, hoping to get special treatment or reservations on certain holidays.”
Cordelia pursed her lips. “Is the food that good?”
“The best I’ve ever had. And lucky for me, Martina is invested in you having a good time tonight, so she pulled a few strings.”
“Lucky for both of us then.”
Cordelia was not used to the princess treatment, and it made her vaguely uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t put her finger on.
Like she hadn’t done anything to earn it.
It didn’t occur to her that being treated well didn’t have to come with conditions.
All her exes had been raised on concrete and only knew the city life of moving from one point to another as fast as possible, leaving behind anyone who couldn’t keep up.
The host led them to a quiet table at the back of the restaurant with soft lighting and the illusion of privacy, thanks to the hundred-gallon saltwater tank that formed a barrier between the intimate tables in back and the noisier ones at the front of the house.
A baby-faced waiter with a chin pimple promptly headed over to take their drink orders in a polite and practiced voice. Cordelia pointed to a random item on the menu, not even bothering to check if it was nonalcoholic. Her focus was glued to the fish tank.
Cordelia had point-blank asked Martina about local pet shops, coral, and the care of saltwater tanks, and Martina had sent her to the hospital to find answers.
Why? She must’ve known her family owned a restaurant with a much more impressive tank than the one in the hospital lobby.
Unless she didn’t want Cordelia to know about it, but then why would she allow Archer to make short-notice reservations?
Cordelia’s head swam in more circles than the tropical fish chasing one another around the gently swaying seaweed. None of it made sense.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Archer nodded to the tank.
“It sure is.” Cordelia’s eyes roamed over the tiny ecosystem at work.
Seahorses, clownfish, and brightly colored species she’d only ever seen in movies danced around one another.
Plants dotted with a bioluminescent glow swayed in the bubbling water.
A charming castle with a thick patina created hiding holes for the more timid fish.
And scattered along the bottom were round lumps of coral with thick neon-green fibers growing off the individual spores.
Palytoxin. The only sample of the neurotoxin Cordelia had been able to find within a fifty-mile radius.
And it was located in the restaurant owned by Martina’s family.
Martina, who had a very public feud with the pastor over books.
Someone Cordelia had never considered a suspect, never questioned, because she’d been helpful and friendly and forthcoming.
And because she acted as if she knew nothing about coral or saltwater tanks.
“Is everything okay?” Archer asked. “You seem distracted.”
Cordelia cleared her throat and tried her best to smile. She couldn’t tell Archer what was bothering her without spilling all the details about the wine, moving his father’s body, tricking him to gain access to his labs. Suddenly, this date had become a lot more complicated.