Chapter 11 #2
Emma nodded toward Tate, who stood outside, casually leaning against the window. “You’d think you’d have all the inspiration you needed right there.”
I blinked. Something clicked in my brain at her words, like the final turn of a lock setting into place. Why couldn’t I use Tate for inspiration?
“That’s true,” I said lightly, my mind whirling as I fingered a well-loved copy of The Emerald Isle, the first book in Miles Taylor’s Landfall series, lying on the circular desk.
“I didn’t know you two were dating.”
“Well, the Ednas just found out, so it should be on the news by tonight.”
She laughed, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.
“Are you dating anyone?” I pressed, wondering what boyfriend options were like as a librarian in a small town. In my screenplay, my male main character will basically fall into the librarian’s lap, but in real life, I doubted the place was bustling with men.
“Nope.”
Her voice sounded preoccupied. Enough so that I looked up from my notes to see her watching the window. Tate stood talking to someone outside. My stomach clenched until I took in Tate’s friendly demeanor, him using his hands to gesture at something both men laughed at. I squinted at the man.
“Is that Carson Price?”
She cleared her throat and went back to cleaning the desk. “Yeah. He’s buying out Mr. Vance’s practice. He’s the new dentist in town.”
I whistled as I remembered Carson. He’d broken a lot of hearts in his day, played well in nearly every sport, and was as charismatic as they came. He looked like he was still all of those things, but now he was the town dentist.
Growing up was wild.
“Well, maybe it’s time I get my teeth checked. He’d be much more pleasant to look at than crabby old Mr. Vance.”
She laughed, glancing out the window once more. I began to thank her for her time before she stopped me. “Wait. You can’t leave without voting.”
“Voting? For what?”
“The mayor,” she whispered, her eyes big and all-knowing, like she was letting me in on some great joke.
“Isn’t he already elected?”
She laughed and pulled me over to a bulletin board she had half-covered with flyers. She yanked a paper off the board and handed it to me.
“First, you need this. This has all the fall festival events mapped out as well as everything else happening in October. If you’re still in town, I’m putting on a Witches Night Out the week before Halloween, and I’d love some friends there.”
“That sounds fun,” I said as I scanned the rest of the flyer. “They’re doing a trail ride to the maple farm?”
Emma peered closer to see what I was looking at. “Yeah. I think Horseshoe Holler is putting that on. It’s new. They’re doing some trial runs right now before it ramps up for the fall festival and tourist season.”
“It includes a tour of the maple farm,” I mumbled, reading over the quick selling points, getting more excited as I did.
“This is what I wanted to show you.” She motioned to another board, this one pink and covered in hearts that read, Who’s the Mayor Dating?
“What’s this?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Everybody thinks the mayor’s dating somebody, but nobody knows who it is.”
“Why don’t we know?” I asked, still confused while my eyes roamed over the list of possible girlfriends.
“The mayor isn’t saying a word. But these are the top women he’s been seen with.”
My eyes raked over the names. I didn’t know them all well, but I did remember Lisa Ellis, the mayor’s secretary, and the owner of the candle shop in town.
“How very…small-town romance of you all.”
She laughed. “Just this morning, I watched him go into the candle shop. He was there for at least twenty minutes, and he didn’t buy anything. Why would he do that?”
Her level of commitment was top-notch.
“But then Rosie swears she saw him walking down the street and flirting with Sharon Price. So, anyway, we started a voting board. Most of the town is in on it.”
I snorted, my eyes roaming the board. “So, these women are the possibilities?”
“Yeah.”
“What if he’s not dating any of them?”
“If you see him with somebody else, I’m happy to add her name to the list, but you don’t work on Main Street every day without seeing a few things go by your window.”
I laughed. “Okay, well, give me some time to do my own detective work, and I’ll be back to vote.”
I relayed the mayor’s dating life to Tate on our walk back to the truck.
“It’s the candlemaker,” he said, scooting me closer to his side as we snuck past the Ednas, who were both loudly talking on a video call, fighting over which way the phone should face.
My brows knit together, trying to act casual as Tate’s arm found its way around my waist. “How do you know?”
“The candlemaker. In the candle shop. With the window shades down.”
“This isn’t a board game. This is serious stuff,” I said, poking him on the arm. “Just for your smug face, I’m going to vote for Lisa Ellis, because I saw the two of them flirting hardcore at the mayor’s party.”
He stopped, a blank expression on his face, like he was now remembering the way Lisa always found a way to touch the mayor and laugh a little too loudly at whatever he said.
I grinned. “Who’s the detective now?”
“Tate Walker?!”
A loud, booming voice coming from behind us stopped us in our tracks next to Tate’s truck. I ducked slightly at the noise, clutching Tate’s shirt at his stomach as he whirled us around.
Tate relaxed immediately. It took me longer. A man, decked out in a brown flannel shirt, dirty jeans, and a straw hat, stood on the sidewalk, staring at Tate with a smile as big as his voice.
“I thought that was you. How are you holding up, son? I’ve been reading about you in the paper.”
And then, I knew him.
Joe Bugelbach owned the pumpkin patch Reese was currently working at for the next month.
It was right next to the straw maze, so he and the Walkers had always had a good relationship.
He strode up to Tate and held out a hand.
Tate hesitated only a moment, relaxing his grip on me so he could greet the older man.
“I’m good, Joe. How are you?”
“I heard you were involved in a shooting. You alright? Is your partner still in the hospital?”
My stomach churned at this. Tate stiffened slightly.
“He’s almost out of rehab. He’s doing well.” His jaw tightened, and his clipped answers were telling. I wanted to help him escape, but I wasn’t sure how. And I couldn’t help but be curious.
Joe nodded, scratching his white beard. “That’s good. And the man in the hospital? What’s going to happen to him?”
“If he survives, he’ll go to jail and face trial.”
Tate seemed to be floundering slightly, unsteady in a way I’d never seen him before. And it was enough for me.
“Well, we’ve got to go,” I said, smiling at the man who looked like he would have been happy to stay and shoot the breeze all day long. “Good to see you, Joe.”
Once inside his truck, we were both quiet. Pensive. Tate backed the truck out of our parking spot and drove us back toward the farm.
I couldn’t help myself.
“Your partner’s been in rehab?”
He nodded. Once and quick.
“And is he going to be okay?”
He sucked in a breath and looked at me. “Yeah.”
He didn’t want to talk. Maybe he couldn’t talk, with the investigation still ongoing. And I’d respect that for now. But there was one other thing I needed to clear up.
“That’s who you’ve been sneaking out to see sometimes?”
“We have a standing poker night once a week.” Tate smiled softly at me.
“And here I thought you were stepping out on me,” I said the words softly. I even smiled a bit so he wouldn’t know how the idea had been weighing on me. I didn’t want him to see how much my dad’s actions could still mess with my head, even now, but here we were.
We were stopped at a red light—the last stoplight before we hit country roads. I could feel Tate’s eyes on me.
“Rawlins,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, looking out the window.
“Olivia,” he tried again, this time in a voice soft enough to make me turn around to look at him.