"Since when would I care what anyone thinks?"
That was part of the problem. Hannah didn 't care. "Hannah, I just worry about you. That's all. You know everyone in town's talking about how you think you've lured Clate Jackson north for me. It wouldn't be a big leap for people to start wondering if you're so committed to the two of us falling for each other that you might stoop to—"
"To terrorizing you as a way of forcing you and Clate together?"
Piper nodded, wincing.
Hannah sputtered and huffed, outraged. "Well, I never."
"I've never doubted you, Hannah. It's just that everyone knows how you hate to be wrong."
"I'm not wrong."
Piper smiled. "I rest my case."
But her aunt sprang to her feet, her energy renewed, and dragged Piper back to the living room, where she proceeded to call up onto her monitor a map she'd completed of the grounds around Frye House. "It's rough, I know, but I think it provides a good framework for our plan, when we decide it's safe to dig again."
"Perhaps I should wait until the calls die down. Unless..." Piper tried to resist the crazy thought that popped into her head. Hannah's influence. But she continued, "Unless someone else really does know about the treasure and is trying to dissuade me from looking for it. In which case I should try to beat him to it."
Hannah looked up at her. "I don't want you putting yourself in harm's way."
Clate's way, yes. Piper patted her aunt's bony shoulder. "I won't. I really don't think this guy's going to get violent or anything. I think he's just trying to intimidate me."
"You're sure it's a man?"
"I suppose it could be a woman. It doesn't matter. I won't be intimidated."
For the next twenty minutes, they examined, discussed, plotted, suggested, and rejected ideas, never mentioning Clate's No Trespassing signs. When they finished, they had a game plan that neither knew exactly when or if they'd implement.
Before Piper could leave, she had to wait for Hannah to retrieve a little glass pot of her chamomile cleansing milk. "Refrigerate it," she said, returning from the kitchen. "I don't use preservatives."
"Thank you. I love chamomile." Piper cupped the still-warm pot in one hand. "Hannah, thank you for letting me read your letters. It was a privilege."
Her expression softened, her eyes warming, a touch of the seven-year-old she'd once been. "Your grandfather and greatgrandfather were good men, Piper. Not perfect, but good. I'd intended you to have those letters after my death. I don't know why I felt the need to wait." In a rare demonstrative gesture, she reached out and squeezed her niece's hand. "My father and brother both would have been proud of you."
Thunder rumbled, too close for Piper's comfort considering she was on her bicycle. Hannah noticed, and smiled. "Relax, you can have Clate drive you home."
"Hannah, I'm not calling him—"
"You don't have to. He will be here momentarily."
"He's coming here? Why?"
"I don't know."
Her words were hardly out, when the doorbell rang.
"You saw him through the window," Piper accused.
Hannah simply shrugged.
"Well, put the maps of his yard away before I let him in."
Piper answered the door, and indeed it was Clate, standing with one rock-hard arm on the door frame and his eyes on her. Their hot words on the road hadn't changed a thing. If he had had her out on the beach right now, she'd do just what she had last night. More. Destiny be damned, the man was all wrong for her! She had to get a grip on her common sense and pull back before she did something she regretted, like really fall for him.
He smiled as if he could read her thoughts. "Fancy meeting you here."
"You have an appointment with Hannah?"
"No, ma'am. Just thought I'd stop by unannounced and talk to her about you."
"Don't say that too loud." Piper glanced back at her aunt, who'd shoved the printed out diagrams of his property in a desk drawer. "She'll take credit for summoning you."
His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Maybe she did."
Hannah joined them in the entry and decided to kick them both out. "I'm tired. I need my nap." Piper had never known her aunt to nap. "Can you come back later, Clate?"
He turned on his Southern charm. "Yes, ma'am."
"Piper here was just about to leave. I'm worried she'll get caught in a thunderstorm—"
"Hannah, if it gets bad out, I'll find cover. I've been riding my bike around town my whole life."
"She's very independent," Hannah told Clate, ignoring Piper completely. "She's had to be to keep from having her two brothers swallow her whole."
"Hannah."
"So, naturally, it pains her to accept help, and she's unusually sensitive to any hint that she might not be capable of managing something on her own."
Piper tightened her hands into fists. "Hannah, you're lucky I love you. You're lucky you're eighty-seven. I swear—"
She waved a hand in dismissal. "I only speak the truth."
Piper groaned, exasperated.
Clate laughed. "Mrs. Frye, if you're asking me to drive Piper home, I'd be happy to."