“I’m sorry. I know some people have no help at all, not even as much as I get from my dad.” His face scrunched with concern. “Did I sound whiny?” he asked.
“No. You sound human.”
“Thanks. Again, I’m sorry. I don’t usually complain to my customers.”
“Then consider me a friend.”
“Fair enough. Anytime.”
She opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride,” she shouted as she jumped down, then made a frantic dash for the front porch. She splashed through a large puddle of mud on the way, dotting both legs with the evidence.
Grace knew Linc was sitting in the car, watching, as if waiting for her to get into the house, which was nice. She only wished she didn’t look like an overgrown mud-spattered toddler who didn’t know enough to come in out of the rain.
Chapter Twelve
Something had been nagging Liddy all the following week since her chat with Neva Kreger. It was the feeling you got when you knew something but couldn’t really put your finger on it. When she realized what it was, she called Gretchen.
“Hi, Liddy. I was just going to call you. I went to the courthouse and filed the documents showing Jim sold you the cabin for one dollar. As soon as I get the duly recorded deed in your name, I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I’m glad it’s moving along. Grace is so antsy to get things going. I swear she’s there more than she’s home.” Liddy paused. “I didn’t tell her about Jim’s involvement, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it. I just didn’t want her to know how complicated things were.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“I appreciate that. Listen, the reason I’m calling—did you tell me you were the Realtor handling the sales of the town houses on Route Six?”
“I am.” Gretchen’s voice brightened. “Are you interested in one? I’d be happy to show you. Honestly, Liddy, you would love the floor plans. And the exterior maintenance is all done for you. And—”
“No, actually, I’m interested in knowing if someone else purchased a home there. The woman’s name is Margaret Linden. Does that ring a bell?”
“Not offhand. Why?”
“She ordered a book, and it just came in. I wrote down her phone number and address, but I can’t find the paper I wrote it on.” Liddy laughed as if embarrassed at her oversight, but more so at her lie, which she told herself was for the greater good.
“Oh, I know the feeling. I do that all the time. I’ll put something in a place I’m sure I’ll remember, then immediately forget.” Gretchen laughed, too. “Hold on, let me check the records. I don’t recognize the name, but it’s possible someone else in my office handled the sale, and I just don’t remember hearing about it.”
The phone went silent for a full minute. When Gretchen came back on, she said, “I don’t see a Margaret Linden here. Is she maybe living with someone else? A relative maybe?”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she said the street was Devon Terrace.”
“There is no Devon Terrace at that development. For that matter, there’s no street with either Devon or Terrace in it. Trust me, I know every curve in every cul-de-sac.”
“Huh. I guess I misunderstood. It was such a circus here on Saturday, with all the kids coming in for the story hour. I guess I’ll have to wait till she contacts me again for her book. Thanks, Gretchen.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch.”
Liddy sat at her desk, tapping her pen on the blotter as several small incidents began to fall into place. The food wrappers. The pizza that disappeared. The back door being unlocked in the morning when she knew she’d locked up the night before.
She got up from her desk and went to the door and found it unlocked.
But she knew once the door was opened, it could not be locked or unlocked from the outside without a key. There were six keys for the shop, and she knew the location of every one of them. So someone had either found a way to pick a dead bolt, or they’d come into the shop and never left, then unlocked the door when they wanted to leave but couldn’t relock it once they were outside.
Liddy waited until Grace left for the morning to run a few errands and Evelyn arrived to take over at the register. The foot traffic was light, but Thursdays weren’t generally busy. Liddy went into the back of the shop as if going to her office, but she slipped into the back hall and tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor. She looked through each room but hadn’t really expected to find anything out of place, because Grace used the area as her office and storage for books she was shipping out. Other than some printed copies of a page of text for a website she was working on, there was nothing on Grace’s worktable and nothing on the floor.
Liddy climbed the steps to the third floor. At the landing, she took a deep breath. Out of shape or anxious? Maybe a bit of both, she conceded.
She went into the large front room that overlooked the center of town, but found nothing other than a few boxes of old books Fred had left behind. There was a small room to the left, and an even smaller room next to it. If she were to find anything to prove her theory correct, it would be in that room. It looked out over the harbor and had two small windows.
As soon as she went into the room, she knew her instincts were spot-on. Both windows were open just enough to let in a bit of fresh air—definitely not her doing—and a neatly folded pile of blankets was tucked under one of the eaves. It made a tidy, safe place for a hideout.
And that, she knew, was what Dylan had been doing: hiding out. Waiting until no one was looking at the back of the shop, then creeping up the steps to the third floor, where he’d sleep until the sun woke him through the window in the morning so he could get to school on time.
The question was why—and how he’d come to select her shop.
The bigger question: Now that she knew, what was she going to do about it?
“Liddy, isn’t tonight the first romance book club?” Grace asked when she returned to the shop.
Liddy, whose thoughts had been elsewhere, had to stop and think. “Oh my Lord, I forgot all about it.”
“It’s not a big deal. But you probably need to decide right now where you’re going to set up. I think the children’s section is the obvious choice, since it has the most room. And I think we agreed on ordering a carafe or two of coffee and one of hot water for tea along with some cookies from Ground Me.” Grace looked around. “Is someone bringing chairs from somewhere?”
Liddy groaned. “I meant to call Emma to see if she’d ask her brother if we could borrow some chairs from the church hall. It’s right across the street, so we could run over and get them ourselves.”
“I’ll call her right now if you’ll call for the coffee.” Grace reached into her bag for her phone and looked up Emma’s number, then hit send. “Any idea how many we’ll need?”
“No. We could get fifty people, or it could be you, me, and Evelyn.”
“I’ll ask for . . . oh, hi, Emma. It’s Grace . . .”
Seven o’clock rolled around, and the first meeting of the romance book club began right on time. Most of the eighteen members had purchased the book at least a week ahead of time—The Lady’s Choice by Cindy Bickley—and were eager to discuss the story.