Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
T he following day, the sun filtered through the trees as Olivia and Daniel strolled down Ripple Ridge Lane. They were on their way to interview Delilah Fitzwater, the unabashed free spirit who might hold the answer to unlocking the romantic mystery from Lillian’s past.
“It’s fortunate Emma is covering for you today,” Daniel said to Olivia.
“She usually sells out of baked goods by the afternoon and was available. Besides, Monday is a quiet day. I thanked her profusely.” Olivia turned to him. “What about you and your work?”
A wry smile creased the corner of his lips. “I keep my own schedule. Besides, one of my co-workers, Gus Stratton, has been around a long time and is one of the most conscientious guys I’ve ever known.”
His thoughts circled around Olivia’s friend Emma. He pictured the blond, remembering glimpses of her over the years. She’d taken over her late mother’s bakery, but had a closed-off, solitary air as she whisked down the street and hardly ever made eye contact. Her only regular companion was Theodore.
Though she and Olivia were friends, Emma was ice-locked in mourning after her mother’s death. He imagined her closing time without laughter ringing through her bakery, only sighs and clouds of recollections. She took sole responsibility for the family legacy rather than risk dependence or disappointment.
Perhaps she viewed Lillian’s letter as a possible heartbreak in some way, instead of a bridge to possibility, and that was why she’d acted suspiciously when Olivia had shown her the letter.
Daniel understood the hollowed-out emptiness, the instinct to protect one’s expectations. Seeing Olivia’s enthusiasm and openness reignited these past few days reminded him that the potential rewards of love justified the risks. He hoped Emma might remember that, too. He hoped she would trust sharing life with someone special.
The town’s main square, located near the community grocery store, came into view.
A community bulletin board, a mishmash of local flyers, captured Daniel’s attention. He didn’t release Olivia’s hand. His fingers curled around hers.
The board beckoned with a patchwork of announcements, and his gaze traveled over the faded flyers. He was drawn to a tattered poster announcing the annual potluck supper the last Sunday of April, celebrating the arrival of spring, with references to the occasion found in Lillian's diary.
Olivia swayed from one foot to the other as she eyed the poster. “Lillian’s diary spilled the beans on all the town events, especially this one.”
“Nothing changes here. I practically grew up with the potluck.”
“Me, too. I can almost hear Lillian’s words resounding through time.”
“What if we bring a dish to the potluck? A nod to tradition?” Daniel asked. “Did she specify any food in particular?”
“Her parents often brought a salad from the community garden. It’s the start of the planting period, but cool season vegetables are available. She mentioned that she loved my grandmother Rachel’s deviled eggs.”
“Do you still have the recipe?”
Olivia leaned into his side. “I can probably find it, although I haven’t made deviled eggs in years.”
“How hard is it to make deviled eggs?”
“My question exactly, although that question might be my famous last words. What about you? What are you bringing to the potluck supper?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Everyone brings food to share.”
He hesitated, nodded. “I call it ‘The Tower of Temptation.’”
“Which is what?”
He seemed to wrestle with a grin. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
She gestured toward the park, where a few flowering cherry trees stood, fifteen feet tall. The flowers ranged in color from soft pink to pure white.
“Years ago, the town initiated a custom where couples planted a tree as a symbol of love. When the man asked a woman to plant a tree with him, it was a proposal of marriage. Lillian’s diary had a thing or two to say about that ceremony as well.”
“I helped plant several trees when I was a kid. A practice as enduring as the hills themselves.”
“For a town this size, the idea is quite romantic.”
Their footsteps fell into a comfortable rhythm as they continued down the street.
He surveyed the timeless storefronts and enchanting facades in the buttery afternoon light, underscoring the town’s simple beauty. Sweetwater Springs’s heart beat steadily as it had for over a century—a testament to a community that bound family stories together through periods of prosperity and periods of loss.
Like a love letter resurfacing after decades.
As if generations longed to pass the flickering torch, reminding those still here that the past lived on as long as even one person remembered.
Gramophone songs once danced to in parlor twilight resounded down the same sturdy lanes. Echoes calling to them across the years—don’t forget we were here once—vibrantly, fiercely here. Mystery letters sent by hearts no longer beating pressed into the hands of hearts, continuing to beat.
Piecing the fragments into a narrative. Into meaning.
Perhaps Sweetwater Springs’ true heritage lay in these shared tales—what sustained, what connected, what romanced. Not facts relegated to record books, but the joys and aches, worn smooth as creek stones.
He glimpsed Olivia’s profile. Her beauty was understated yet undeniable, with a small, thoughtful frown gracing her face.
“Speaking of traditions,” he said, “Is Emma still interested in finding out the mystery of who sent Lillian’s letter?”
“She isn’t saying much, but when she isn’t aware that I’m looking at her, she seems … wary. I can’t explain it.”
Soon, Delilah’s Victorian-style house sprawled before them, painted a sunny yellow with lavender trim. The front porch was decorated with flowerpots exploding with pink and purple rhododendrons, accompanied by a haphazard collection of garden gnomes and red lawn chairs.
Daniel fought off the feeling that they were being watched. The neighborhood was quiet, but a gardener ducked out of sight behind some bushes further up the street.
An uneasy prickle worked its way up his spine.
Was the man eavesdropping? Or something more suspicious? Or were Daniel’s nerves getting the better of him on this fading afternoon?
Nonetheless, he couldn’t shake off the sensation that they weren’t alone.
As they reached Delilah’s front door, Olivia’s gaze darted around the empty street. “Did you hear anything?”
“No.” He swiveled, pivoting in response to the unease in her voice.
“Probably the wind,” she murmured.
“Probably.”
Did someone loiter close by without them noticing? Daniel was convinced that he detected cigarette smoke carried on the breeze, despite being aware that Delilah’s home was cigarette free.
“You know what, Ollie?” he asked.
“What?”
“At first, I was curious about this mystery. But now?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “There’s a personal investment on my part. It’s more than mere curiosity.”
“What changed?”
“In many respects, I relate to Lillian.” Emotions tightened his throat. “I’m aware of what it’s like to care about someone for years without being able to show it. Wondering ‘what if’ about a love you never got to have. This seems as though it’s a second chance.”
“What does?”
“Us.”
How long had he yearned for Olivia, dating all the way back to when they were little more than friends? Pursuing this riddle felt like chasing the elusive thing called love.
“Is that what this all represents?” she asked. “A possibility for us?”
He lifted his shoulders. “This mystery has me hoping destiny intervenes if I keep faith.”
“Faith is real. The verdict is still out on whether fate has a hand in all this.” She studied him, and her eyes misted. “We better see what information Delilah has in store for us.”
She led him up the stairway strewn with leaves and stumbled, grabbing the railing for support.
His arm shot out to steady her. “Are you all right?”
Yeah.” Olivia moaned and rubbed her ankle. “Strange. It was almost like someone lashed out at my heel.” She scrutinized the empty front yard. The bushes at the end of the property rustled in the wind but remained still otherwise.
Daniel followed her gaze. In a flash of movement, a figure darted across the dirt path.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
He squinted. His body went rigid, poised for action.
Was there a footprint? Had somebody darted behind the shrubbery?
No. Best to continue forward, he told himself. I can’t let paranoia derail the investigation.
The sound of lively ukulele music blared through the open windows of Delilah’s home.
“Please don’t tell me she’s practicing Tiptoe Through the Tulips,” he whispered.
Olivia giggled. “She’s playing Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.”
“What song would you perform if you were a ukulele virtuoso?”
“A big if on both of those counts . I suppose I’d pick Aloha Oe . Ukuleles always make me imagine Hawaii.” Olivia laughed, then sobered. “Okay, this is it. Are you ready?”
“I’m prepared if you are.”
Olivia raised her hand as if to knock at the front door, then lowered it. “We left abruptly after Nora’s odd interaction with Victor, and I haven’t had the chance to catch up with her. I wonder if Theodore managed to learn anything more?”
“Knowing Theodore, he probably tried.”
She blew out a breath. “Well, no time like the present, then.” She gave the door three loud knocks.
Daniel took a quick look at the neighboring houses. Was a curtain twitching in the window of the home across the street? He strained his ears, hearing nothing but the wind in the trees.
After an eternity, the door creaked open, and Delilah Fitzwater appeared.
The large woman looked much younger than her sixty-odd years. Her flowing silver hair was topped by a crown of daisies. Her flamboyant patchwork skirt nearly blinded Daniel as she ushered them inside.
“Welcome, welcome!” She smiled widely.
“We liked your music—your playing, I mean,” Daniel replied.
“ I Can’t Help Falling in Love ?” Delilah hummed the chorus of the song, curiously off-key. Despite being a musician, she either had no sense of pitch, or she was tone deaf.
“I’m boiling a pot of hibiscus tea, and there are shortbread cookies on the coffee table. You’re welcome to help yourself.” Delilah bustled them into a living room bursting with flower garlands. The shelves were crammed with books, musical instruments, and eclectic knickknacks, and the cloying scent of potpourri mingled with herbal tea.
“Thanks, I’d love a cookie,” Olivia said.
“I’m good for now.” Daniel’s gaze roamed to the floral wallpaper in shades of rose, the LP records stacked haphazardly by a vintage phonograph. Apparently, Delilah approached life with a different perspective than he did. He preferred his belongings to be neat and organized.
As he dropped onto the sofa beside Olivia, brocade cushions released a faint lavender scent. Lacy doilies, resembling ornate snowflakes, trimmed every tabletop, and chintz armchairs sunk under decorative piles of embroidered pillows. A heavy pink and white patterned stoneware tea set decorated a credenza behind a wingback chair.
A stained glass hanging in a lead-paned window scattered rainbow prisms, and the dark wainscoting and cabinetry soaked in the colors on a vibrant afternoon. Creaky hardwood floors were barely visible under scattered clusters of rugs and tapestries in clashing colors and mismatched patterns.
Delilah occupied a chair opposite them.
“We’re hoping you can help solve a decades-old mystery about a local woman,” Daniel began. “Did you ever arrange any dates for Lillian Beaumont?”
“Ah, Miss Lillian! Such a lovely girl. I arranged a few, but no gentleman fueled the special chemistry she longed for. She was such a romantic.” Delilah let out a thoughtful sigh. “Although there was this man, oh, what was his name? He swept into Sweetwater Springs and Lillian was smitten. He was merely a traveler passing through, and she was devastated when he moved on. I can practically envision his handsome face smiling down at Lillian in the gazebo.”
“You saw them?” Daniel asked.
“I shouldn’t have snooped, but I was the matchmaker, so I took it upon myself.”
“You chaperoned?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. Lillian never realized I was there.”
“What did he look like?”
“Clouds covered the sky, and it was dark, but I recognized Lillian’s profile from a distance. They met at night, you know.”
“You said he was handsome.”
“Knowing Lillian, he probably was. She was rather discerning. She didn’t date just anyone, though by my count she dated most every eligible guy.”
As Delilah shared hazy recollections, eagerness spread through Daniel’s veins. Finally, a witness! He slid forward, elbows braced on his knees. Olivia mirrored him, her spine taut.
“I arranged numerous dates for her,” Delilah went on. “The guys who wanted to go out with her multiplied at every turn. She was gorgeous.”
Daniel attempted to steer the conversation back to the gazebo. “So, you definitely observed her and a man together there?”
He met Olivia’s wide-eyed gaze and resisted grabbing her hands in excitement. “She saw them!” he mouthed.
She gave a thumbs-up and bent nearer, lemon-scented hair cascading over her shoulders. A breath-stealing whisper of attraction momentarily suspended him.
“Do you remember anything else about him?” Olivia prompted Delilah. “A given or family name?”
Delilah cocked her head. Her eyes held a keen interest that surpassed a mere narrowing. “It’s possible that his first name was Nathaniel or Tobias, or maybe Cleo; I can’t recall. And his last name … Heatherton or Leathery or Albatross.” She labored over to a cluttered desk and rummaged through a stack of papers. “I must’ve written it down somewhere.”
Daniel’s hands involuntarily reached for his chest. “You still have notes after several decades?”
“Of course. Why not?”
The teakettle on the stove let out a shrill whistle, its timely interruption giving Delilah a moment to pause her search.
“I’ll be a strumming sunflower! I almost forgot the tea.” She cracked a good-humored smirk.
As she headed to the kitchen, Daniel shifted closer to Olivia, their thighs nearly touching.
Olivia swallowed a bite of shortbread, and his gaze dropped helplessly to the flutter of her throat. He imagined grasping her hand again, running his thumb over her knuckles, his fingertips tracing the delicate skin.
Olivia watched him with a spirited glint in her eyes. “Care to share what’s bouncing around in that brain of yours?”
Heat rushed his neck, but he held her gaze. “Guess I got a little distracted.”
“By …”
“Your hands, Ollie.” He offered a self-deprecating chuckle. Her nickname tumbled out, like she was once again the close confidante of his youth. “I found myself utterly mesmerized by your hands.”
“In the spirit of not getting distracted,” she inched closer. “Perhaps you should hold them again.”
Before he had a chance to react, she rubbed her palm against his.
He released a measured exhale, a jolt coursing through him as her fingers locked with his. Holding her soft hand, he stroked her knuckles with his thumb.
“Better focus now?” Olivia teased.
He obliged her teasing by a slight blush rising in his cheeks. “Mmhmm …”
Delilah returned, precariously balancing a copper tray stacked with teacups, a teapot, and finger sandwiches. As she poured the tea and handed them the cups, the spicy floral scent of hibiscus perfumed the air.
A china cup slipped in her grasp, clattering against the tray.
“Oops!” she chuckled.
Daniel reluctantly released Olivia’s hand, his skin instantly missing hers. He swallowed the scalding and distasteful tea, and thanked Delilah for agreeing to see them.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, Lillian’s gentleman caller from long ago.” Plopping into a creaky wicker chair, Delilah’s fingers twirled as if conjuring a download on her computer. “He was utterly taken with her. But then again, every guy was.”
Olivia nibbled on a cucumber sandwich. “I wonder if he might be the man who recently sent Lillian a letter that arrived at my bookshop. There was no sender’s identity listed on the envelope.”
“Ooh, an anonymous sweetheart resurfacing after all these years?” Delilah clutched her heart. “How thrillingly romantic, sugar plum! True love is waiting patiently for the right moment.”
“Think back to when you first learned about Lillian’s unidentified suitor,” Olivia said. “Did anyone hear him recount stories from his travels? Anything that might hint at his identity?”
Delilah’s lips formed a thoughtful line while she twisted a gold bangle around her wrist. “Nothing that I can recall.” She fidgeted, pulling on the bangle again, as if it brought her comfort. Her gaze drifted to the window, watching a bird flit by outside. After a moment, she refocused on Daniel and Olivia. “I’m afraid my memory fails me in the details.”
As they dove back into questioning, Daniel watched Olivia tuck a silken strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the graceful slope of her neck.
His nerves simmered with awakened hunger.
He was falling deeper under her spell.
She was irresistible.
He took another sip of tea, then set the cup down with deliberate precision. “At first, we assumed he might be connected to a man we spotted yesterday. He was wearing a fedora. Slender build, sharp features.”
“My nephew Elliot wears a fedora, though I haven’t seen him in ages.” Delilah operated in two modes: excessively cheerful, or curiously scatter-brained. One hand absently stroked the orange and green beaded necklace resting on her collarbone. “We were close when he was younger, even after his parents died and he had to go live with other relatives. He used to send me the most amusing postcards from his travels. I know he liked Austin, Texas. But then the postcards … stopped. I often wonder what became of him. He was always well-groomed and prided himself on his appearance.”
“Your nephew’s name is Elliot?”
“Yes.”
“Last name?”
“Fitzwater. Elliot is my brother’s son. Sadly, my brother passed away many years ago. He was wise and warm, and a true inspiration to our entire family. Elliot was devastated when he passed. We all were.”
“Why does your nephew wear a fedora?”
A shimmer of reminiscence touched Delilah’s pale green eyes. “When he was a young boy, he found his father’s old fedora in the attic. It was worn and shabby at best, but he took a liking to it. Boasted that it made him look like a detective. It probably reminded him of his father. ”
Her fingers traced an imaginary brim in the air. “From that day on, he wore it everywhere. Became a bit of a trademark for him. He said it brought him luck, memories of his father, and a touch of anonymity.”
“Two guys with the same description. Two different names,” Daniel whispered to Olivia.
“So odd,” she agreed.
“Nora, the librarian, claimed he was a family friend, and the guy’s name is Victor Steele,” Daniel continued. “Is it possible that they know each other?”
“Nora and Elliot? How?” Delilah opened her mouth, then closed it again. “And who is Victor Steele?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
The room fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the faint creaking of the wicker chair as Delilah rocked back and forth.
Daniel propped his elbow on the armrest of the sofa. “Olivia, Nora, Theodore, and I might’ve seen your nephew by the fountain in town yesterday. He wore a fedora and handed Nora an envelope.”
Delilah’s eyebrows arched in a silent question. “What was in the envelope?”
“Nora was extremely evasive.” Olivia’s fingers grazed over the woven fabric of the embroidered pillow. “Before any of us reacted, he disappeared into one of the buildings, and Nora left shortly afterward.”
Delilah turned; her gaze anchored on a photo. “Last I heard, my nephew was somewhere chasing his dreams. Can’t tie him down, that one.”
“Is this him?” Daniel stood and retrieved the photo from an end table. He held it up, revealing a handsome young man with sharp features.
Delilah affirmed with a subtle inclination of her head. “Who else? I never married or had children of my own.”
“This man isn’t wearing a fedora, but the photo looks like the guy we saw with Nora,” Olivia said. “The resemblance?—”
“Is uncanny,” Daniel finished.
Were they about to unravel decades of answers? Or did an eerie coincidence cast more fog along the trail?
“Would your nephew have contacted you if he had arrived in town?” Olivia asked.
Delilah’s response came with a nonchalant shrug. “Not necessarily.”
Anticipation rippled through Daniel like an electric hum, though he tempered it with an easy grin. Had Elliot changed his name to Victor? Unlikely, but anything was possible.
He returned the photo to the table. The cushions sank beneath him as he sat back next to Olivia. A clock chimed from the next room while the sun’s last rays washed over a shelf of disarrayed trinkets.
“Your nephew didn’t know Lillian?” Daniel pressed. His fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the armrest.
“They’re decades apart in age.” Delilah’s gaze wandered over to a bookshelf, as if seeking answers. “Unless we’re talking about two separate men. My nephew’s name is Elliot.”
Olivia, teacup in hand, gestured toward Delilah. “He wouldn’t have changed his name?”
“Of course not.”
The room stilled, the reality of the situation sinking in. Deflated, Daniel put his head in his hands, because another one of their leads had been smashed. No evidence tied youthful Elliot to sophisticated elder Lillian.
Therefore, Elliot couldn’t be the enigmatic man from Lillian’s past. He was young enough to be her son.
But did he have a twin?
If so, it meant reevaluating the entire situation from square one.
After they left Delilah’s home with more dead ends, Olivia’s expression carried a hint of irony. “Why did we assume her nephew had to be our guy when we saw the photo?” she asked.
“We got ahead of ourselves because he looked so similar to Victor. We should verify facts before chasing assumptions.”
Daniel’s mind whirled with the various individuals potentially tied to the Lillian mystery. There was Elliot Fitzwater, Delilah’s nephew, who bore a striking resemblance to the mysterious man named Victor Steele who knew Nora, the town’s librarian. Nora herself had been evasive about her relationship with Victor.
And then there was the complication of Theodore and Emma.
Somehow, Daniel felt that unraveling the connections between all these people was crucial to uncovering Lillian's romantic past.
“Elliot Fitzwater appears to have no direct ties to Lillian, despite his resemblance to Victor Steele,” Olivia reiterated.
“True. But does Victor somehow factor into the decades-old letter?”
“The question of the day,” Olivia replied.
They passed Sweetwater Springs elementary school, and Olivia centered her attention on an advertisement seeking volunteers for the reading program.
“I always wished for more programs like this when I was young,” she remarked.
“I’ve seen you volunteering here through the classroom window.”
“How?” She turned to him. “Have you been spying on me?”
“I’ve lived in town for a while and pass by this way often. A class of fourth graders was smiling at your dramatic storytelling style. From what I gathered; your encouraging spirit has made quite an impact.”
She grinned. “Since you already caught me in the act, I’ll keep up with my schoolroom readings whenever I can.”
Daniel noted the slight reddening in her cheeks as she adjusted the advertisement. He appreciated her efforts to make their community a better place.
When they were in their teens, she collaborated with nursery schools to be a guest storyteller. Dressed as characters from the stories, she made reading interactive and fun, and he knew she left a lasting impression on the young minds.
He pictured her now, her chestnut hair pulled back but tendrils escaping as she animated her face and voice, pulling the children into magical worlds.
“I have no doubt you’ll keep brightening those kids’ days. Are you still organizing book donation drives?”
She nodded. “A couple of times a year.”
In high school, she’d collected gently used books from the community and distributed them to families, ensuring more children had the opportunity to explore the magic of reading.
“More and more things to love about you.” He put an arm around her waist and captured her lips in a tender kiss.
He said the word. Love. She didn’t answer, save for a sharp inhale.
He tucked her arm through his, and they continued walking.
As more memories of her altruistic effort lingered in Daniel’s mind, a black sedan rolled by them, slowing as it passed, shiny hubcaps flashing in the sunlight.
Daniel stopped, tented his eyes, and stared.
Could it be …? He blinked hard, his heart pounding.
The driver’s sharp profile and brimmed fedora hat resembled Elliot’s, Victor’s, or whoever it was.
The passenger seat’s window cracked open. With a silent gasp, Nora’s gaze met Daniel’s before she slumped down, out of sight.
He stood as immobile as a statue while the car accelerated and sped down the street.
Olivia gripped his hand and passed him a cautious glance. “Was that Nora?” At his stunned nod, her eyes flared. “Does Elliot have a brother named Victor? If so, wouldn’t Delilah have mentioned him?”
Adrenaline flooded Daniel’s veins.
Perhaps.
Or perhaps his exhausted eyes were deceiving him.