Which was precisely what Hannah had asked her to do.
Piper groaned to herself. It would have been ever so much easier if Clate Jackson had been a slick, shallow executive, unappealing on any level. Even Hannah would have had to admit the universe had coughed up the wrong man.
"By the way," he said, "I met your brother Andrew in town earlier."
Perfect. Just what she needed on top of Hannah's buried treasure. One look at Clate Jackson and Andrew would be on high alert. She'd taken a detour around the center of town, just to make sure she didn't run into her father and brothers after her unnerving talk with Hannah. They always had a way of seeing through her. They'd know something was up. But she couldn't explain. If she did, the Macintosh men would haul Hannah straight off to the loony bin.
Clate had those searing eyes narrowed on her. Piper tried to look less distracted, less guilty. "And how's big brother?"
"Seemed fine. Told him you and I had met."
"Did you say how?"
"No." A flash of unexpected humor softened his eyes. "Figured I'd leave that up to you."
"Good of you. Andrew—both my brothers are protective of me. And my father, although he's not quite as bad."
The humor drifted from his eyes to his mouth. "So I gathered."
"But I guess I'm protective of them, too, in my own way. If Andrew stops by to see Hannah, she'll tell him about the valerian root herself. She doesn't understand why I shouldn't be traipsing off to your place in the middle of the night."
Clate's eyebrows raised, and too late, Piper realized she could have chosen her words more carefully. She took a step back from his car, feeling hotter and even more self-conscious, as if every part of her were somehow exposed to him.
"Anyway," she added briskly, "I told Hannah that you wanted to preserve your privacy. She just needs a little time to adjust to not having all her herbs right on her doorstep."
"She's happy with her valerian root?"
"Seems to be."
"I hope she'll find another source for it in the future. Well, I'll leave you to your bike ride." But he didn't pull away from the road, eyeing Piper instead; his eyes seemed an even deeper blue in daylight. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, fine. I think I might have strained a calf muscle, that's all." Nothing was wrong with her calf muscles, but she'd needed a simple explanation; the truth was out of the question. But her lie sounded false even to her own ears. "I sometimes overdo it bike riding when the weather's this gorgeous."
"I understand."
Something in his tone—it wasn't obvious—suggested he knew she had fibbed. She forced a smile. "Thanks for stopping."
"If you need a ride—"
"No, that's okay. I'll just ice my calves when I get home."
"I hope they feel better soon." Sarcasm dried out his drawl, the humor and suspicion lingering in his gaze. No doubt about it, he knew he had a liar living next door. "See you around, Piper Macintosh."
She had to fight herself not to dig herself a deeper hole by telling him she did, too, have sore calves and he could damned well come back to her house and watch her ice them if he didn't believe her. The truth was, although her calves were fine, she wasn't. And for once, common sense kicked in before she could compound her problems.
His car disappeared down the narrow road and around the bend out to their spit of marsh, sand, and scrub trees. If Clate Jackson was a light sleeper, he'd see her around sooner than either of them wanted.
Provided, of course, she did Hannah's bidding.
"Buried treasure."
Piper's shoulder sagged. It was nuts.
"Try under the wisteria first," Hannah had advised. "That's my best guess."
Naturally, the wisteria in question was in Clate Jackson's back yard. There would be no asking his permission. Not only did Hannah forbid it, but Piper would have refused. This latest mission made her elderly aunt look goofier than ever, something her aunt couldn't afford these days. Being known as a harmless eccentric was one thing, a dangerous nut was something else.
No matter how hard she tried, Piper just couldn't dismiss Hannah's haunting tale of her parents' deaths. She couldn't pretend she'd forgotten their conversation that morning or simply dig in her heels and refuse to act. After eighty years, Hannah believed she had the long-denied answers to the deaths of her parents within her grasp, and she needed Piper to help her reach them.