She hesitated. A hot land breeze gusted. She'd never make it to Hannah's and back before thunder and lightning struck, something Clate decided he shouldn't point out lest she think he was trying to run her life or assuming she was incapable of getting out of the rain. But Piper Macintosh had a lot on her mind. That much was clear.
Finally, her eyes as deep and dark a green as the pitch pine around her, she turned to him and said, calmly, "The threatening phone calls could have to do with you, not me. They never mentioned the treasure. My latest mission for Hannah could just be a coincidence. Other people could have heard the same rumors I did about you and land development. Maybe someone's trying to discredit you, get me to blame you for the threatening calls."
"Set me up, you mean?"
She nodded, plainly not liking the thought of it either way: he was the guilty party or he was someone who'd been set up by a local.
She was getting attached to him. Clate could see that much. He could also see she wasn't sure she liked the thought of that, either. He could understand. He presented complications, rubbed rough against all that was comfortable and certain in her life. Easier not to get attached.
"I think it's farfetched, Piper. I've got enemies, but—"
"I know. I'm probably grasping at straws." She squinted at him in the glare of clouds and hazy sunshine. "I just don't want any of this to touch Hannah."
"Understood."
"She's waiting for me. She was making scones this morning. One of the old ladies in the complex brought her a jar of homemade strawberry-mint jam, and she wants me to try it."
"You two," Clate said, grinning suddenly. Scones. Strawberry-mint jam. No, his life wasn't at all like Piper's. "Have a good time. I'll catch up with you later."
She seemed happier as she rode off. He, however, was feeling a tumultuous mix of emotions, all of which he rounded up, stuffed in a sack, and shut up tight. He needed to keep his wits about him, and letting his emotions run wild would undermine that effort. Lust, dread, anger, exhilaration, confusion, and an undeniable rush of unexpected grief for a life he'd never led, for an old woman he missed, in his own way, perhaps as much as Piper would miss her great-aunt Hannah when she was gone.
And she wasn't ready, any more than he had been. The prospect of that loss—the certainty of it—was what scared Piper Macintosh most.
Hannah guessed what was up the moment Piper walked through the door. "Clate Jackson has insinuated himself into your consciousness, hasn't he?"
Piper scowled. "Not in the way you think."
Her aunt smiled knowingly. "Exactly in the way I think."
As tempted as she was to argue her case about a man who would sit on a car bumper and just dare her to bounce him into the next county, Piper resisted. She'd only egg Hannah on. She was sitting at her computer, her color printer feeding out a bright page. One of her family recipes. She was doing them up for Piper to pass down to subsequent generations.
"Have Andrew and Benjamin been out to see you today?" Piper asked, changing the subject.
"The posse." Hannah clucked, climbing to her feet. "They stopped by this morning before work. We had tea."
"They drank your tea?"
"They insisted on inspecting the bags first."
"You have tea bags? How come you never serve me regular tea?"
"You have a more adventurous spirit. I was tempted to add a drop of a new decoction into their cups, but I decided that would be improper, although it certainly would have improved Andrew's mood. He's getting ornery."
Piper laughed. "He's always been ornery. It's just that he's directing it at you for a change."
"Well, he can undirect it. They both kept looking at me to see if I really had gone daffy. I finally got out my broom and pretended I thought I was flying around the room. I even cackled. Andrew was all for calling in the white coats, but Benjamin knew I was just trying to get their goat."
"Oh, Hannah." Piper bit back a laugh, imagining her brothers' outrage when their aunt didn't take their concerns seriously. "Did they believe you didn't leave Stan Carlucci that tincture?"
She waved a hand. "I have no idea and I don't care. Stan can have me arrested as a menace if he has the evidence."
"He doesn't."
"Of course he doesn't. I didn't leave him that tincture."
The doorbell rang, and Piper got it automatically, leaving Hannah to close out her desktop publishing program.
Sally Shepherd smiled from the threshold. "Piper, good morning. I thought that was your bike out front. May I see Hannah a moment? If I'm not interrupting—"
"You're not interrupting. Come on in."