That night I went to dinner at Lizzie and Hal’s for the second time in a week. Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t complaining. Lizzie was a great cook and Hal liked to grill steaks, so why would I say no to their invitation?
Still, I was more than a little suspicious. For some reason, each of my friends had invited me over for dinner every night that week. Did they think I couldn’t be trusted to dine alone? Did they think I was lonely or nervous about being by myself in that big house of mine?
Maybe I should’ve been nervous. After all, the police hadn’t arrested anyone for killing Jerry yet.
And then there was Wendell. I hated having him stay in my pretty garage apartment so maybe it was just as well that I was away from home tonight. I was ticking off the calendar days until he departed Lighthouse Cove and, if I had my way, he would never come back again. I had only to avoid him for nine more days, but it wouldn’t be easy. He seemed to thrive on stirring up negative feelings wherever he went. That seemed like an inherently dangerous way to live one’s life.
After giving hugs to Lizzie and Hal and their two kids, Marisa and Taz—short for Tasmanian Devil, Hal always said—I handed Lizzie the bottle of wine I’d brought along with a small pink box of cookies.
“Are those cookies?” Taz whispered reverently. “Thanks, Aunt Shannon.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” I said, ruffling the eleven-year-old’s hair and getting a little choked up that he was still young enough to call me his aunt. “Good grief, he’s almost as tall as you are, Lizzie.”
“I’m taller,” Taz said, grinning.
“Don’t remind me,” Lizzie said, as she hung up my coat in the front closet.
Her very grown-up thirteen-year-old daughter, Marisa, took hold of the pink box. “I’ll put them in the fridge, Mom.”
“Thanks, honey. And no sampling, please.” Lizzie walked with me over to the kitchen bar. Hal had just poured glasses of wine so the three of us had a toast to the first lovely hints of fall in the air.
“I heard you had another run-in with Wendell,” Lizzie said after she’d taken a sip.
“How could you have heard that? It happened only a few hours ago.”
Lizzie gazed at me quizzically. “I’m sorry—where do we live again?”
“Small-town America,” I said, groaning. “But, come on, the only people watching us fight were Jesse and Mrs. Higgins.”
She gave me that same look and I held up my hand. “I know. They’re the town criers. They were probably on the telephone within seconds.”
“I found out about it at the market less than an hour ago,” Lizzie said.
“Ridiculous.” I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it. But he’s a horrible man. We fought over something really stupid, but he made me so angry, I wanted to slap him. Really hard. I mean, really, really hard. And you should’ve seen what he did to Whitney at the pub the other night. What a jackass.”
I was pounding my fist into the palm of my other hand with enough force that Lizzie began to frown. “But you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Oh, hell.” I placed both hands flat on the bar counter to calm myself. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Yes,” Lizzie said, smiling, “because I have something interesting and fun to talk about.”
“Hooray.” I took a seat on one of the barstools. “Let’s hear it.”
“Okay, you’ve heard of MacKintyre Sullivan, right?”
“The writer? Of course. I love his books.”
“I do, too.” Her eyes lit up and she waved her hands excitedly. “Well . . . he’s moving to Lighthouse Cove!”
“Moving? Here?” I shook my head in confusion. “Why?”
“Why not? We have a wonderful little town.”
“Of course we do,” I said, “but he belongs in Hollywood or New York, doesn’t he?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, yes. Okay, I was a little shocked to hear it, too, because what are the chances, right? But isn’t it awesome? I just reordered a bunch of his books for the store last week. Everybody loves him. Hal loves him, too. Don’t you, honey?”
Hal turned from the stove, where he was stirring something that smelled fantastic. I could detect the aroma of onions and garlic, so I was happy. He turned down the heat and joined us at the bar, where he’d left his wineglass. “His books are great.”
MacKintyre Sullivan was a famous crime novelist whose books were always winning awards and hitting bestseller lists. His main character, Jake Slater, was an ex–Navy SEAL turned private detective who specialized in lost causes. When things got really rough, he would call on a motley group of misfits from his black-ops days to help him right the wrongs of the world. Sullivan’s first book had been made into a blockbuster movie and Jake Slater was getting to be as popular as James Bond and Jack Reacher.
Lizzie rested her elbow on the counter. “I love Jake Slater. Rich, gorgeous, brave, dashing.”
“And fictional,” I said, smiling.
Marisa turned from the stove, where she had taken over stirring the onion mixture. “That movie was so awesome.”
“It was,” I said. I was a sucker for action films.
“You should see him in person, Shannon,” Lizzie whispered ecstatically. “He walked by the store this afternoon and looked inside the window. We made eye contact and he smiled and waved at me.” She patted her chest. “Oh, God, he’s soooooo cute! And he’s single! I heard he was engaged but it didn’t work out. Which means there’s no woman in his life. Currently.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I happened to glance at Marisa, who was rolling her eyes at her mom. Laughing, I said, “But he is awfully cute, at least according to his book jackets. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to see him eventually.”
“Of course you will,” she assured me. “Oh, and Cindy at the diner told me he likes to be called Mac. She said that while he was eating lunch, people came up and asked for his autograph and he was perfectly happy to give it. He’s not stuck-up or anything.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“And she agreed that he’s incredibly handsome.”
I glanced over at Hal. “Did you get a chance to see him, Hal?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you think?”
He pressed both hands to his cheeks. “OMG, Shannon! He’s such a dreamboat.”
I laughed again. “You sound just like Marisa.”
Marisa turned and glared at me. “I resent that.”
“It was a compliment,” I said. “Your father’s funny.”
“I know. He makes me laugh all the time.” She ran over and wrapped her arms around her dad’s waist.
I shared a sentimental glance with Lizzie, who knew how lucky she was. Even though Marisa had recently become a teenager, she was still a sweet girl and hadn’t yet turned into a raging hormonal monster.
I took a sip of wine. “Do you know where he’s . . . Oh, wait a minute. MacKintyre Sullivan didn’t just buy the old lighthouse keeper’s house, did he?”
“Yes!”
Mystery solved, I thought. Although the fact that Mrs. Higgins had heard the news before I had was just so wrong.
Our famous lighthouse had been standing out on the bluff since 1870 and the home attached to it was nearly as old. An earthquake had almost destroyed it, but instead of tearing it down, the town decided to refurbish it with steel reinforcement rods encased in concrete. It had lasted more than one hundred years and was still in fine shape.
The year I was born, the town of Lighthouse Cove acquired the lighthouse and attached mansion from the U.S. Coast Guard. In recent years, the light itself and the foghorn had been replaced with new technology that was maintained by the lighthouse trust. Recently, the trust had begun to search for a new owner for the mansion, a person who would agree to live next door to an operational lighthouse with its thriving gift shop and small museum.
Apparently they’d found a buyer.
“Do you think he means to live there?” I wondered aloud. “Or will he just fix it up and try to flip it?”
“I haven’t heard,” Lizzie said. “I hope he stays. And I hope he comes into the store soon. We have all his books in stock and I’d love to get him to sign them.”
“If he’s as wonderful as you’ve heard he is,” I said, “I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to.”
Lizzie tucked her arm through Hal’s. “He’s still not as nice and cute as you are, honey.”
“Nobody is,” Hal admitted with a sigh. He lifted her off her feet, gave her a semihot kiss on the lips, and walked away. Lizzie stared at his back until he disappeared down the hall.
“You’re so lucky,” I said, smiling at the glazed look in her eyes.
“I know.” She blinked a few times, then pulled utensils from the drawer. “Come help me set the table.”
Lizzie pushed the swinging door open and we walked into the dining room. I grabbed place mats and napkins from the sideboard. “So, tell me more about our new celebrity resident.”
She patted her chest. “Seriously gorgeous, Shannon. Let me know if you want to meet him.”
“Of course I want to meet . . .” I blinked at her. “No. I’m warning you, Lizzie. You’re not going to set me up on another date again.”
She laughed. “I didn’t mean I would set you up. I just meant, you know, introduce the two of you.”
“But you haven’t even met him.”
“True, but chances are, I’ll meet him before you do.”
She was probably right, but still. “I’ll run into him eventually on my own.”
“Of course you will. But I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to go out with him, just as a friendly gesture. He probably doesn’t know anyone in town.”
“You are incorrigible,” I said, folding another napkin before calling for help. “Hal, I need more wine.”
To my delight, Hal came running through the swinging door with the bottle and filled my glass and Lizzie’s. “Honey, Shannon just had a bad experience and she isn’t ready to date anyone else just yet, so let it go.”
“Are you listening in on our conversation?” she asked.
Hal chuckled. “Of course.”
She sighed and looked at me with some regret. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
“No problem.”
“But whenever you’re ready . . .”
“Stop!” Hal and I said it in unison.
She laughed. “All right, all right. But, dang, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to go out with Mac.”
“Maybe because he dates supermodels and heiresses?”
“Does he?” She frowned. “He doesn’t seem that superficial.”
“He’s a man,” I whispered.
“True.” She gazed lovingly at her husband. “But so is Hal and he’s wonderful.”
I smiled. “Yes, Hal is wonderful. And rare.”
“Thanks, pal.” He winked at me and headed back into the kitchen.
When the door swung closed, Lizzie added, “You know, Police Chief Jensen isn’t bad, either.”
“Oh no.” I smacked my forehead. “You did not just say that.”
“I did.” She smiled brightly. “Just say the word and I’ll work my magic.”
“Your magic?” I laughed. “Besides, I have it on good authority that you already asked him if he’d like to be introduced to anyone and he said no.”
“True, but I haven’t given up hope.” She placed the last utensil on the napkin in front of her. “You have to admit he’s awfully good-looking.”
“Oh, sure. That’s all I could think about when he was looking at me the other night like I might be a stone-cold killer. Nothing better than having a hottie investigating you in a murder case.”
“You did get to know him in kind of a different way,” she mused. “That can often be the beginning of a wonderful relationship.”
I studied her for a moment, not quite believing we’d been close friends most of our lives. “When did you go crazy? I missed it. And by the way, for a married woman you’re awfully fascinated by all these other men.”
“I’m not dead yet.” She set a pair of salt and pepper shakers on the table. “Jane thinks the chief is interested in you.”
I folded another napkin. “Liz, he’s interested in me as a murderer. It’s not a compliment.”
“At least he’s paying attention to you. For some women, that would be enough.”
“Are you listening to yourself?”
She laughed. “Yes, and I’m kidding. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“With a man who considers me a flight risk? Oh, be still my heart.”