“I guess that’s true.” I took one more look at the detective. She seemed perfectly calm as she was peppered with queries.
Once seated inside the car, Derek turned to me. “Are you all right? That last question was a bit personal.”
“It took me by surprise. I’m still a little dazed.”
“I was surprised you answered it.”
“I was, too.” I buckled my seat belt. “He was so nice, and the question seemed genuine. I’m afraid my answer sounded peculiar. I hope he doesn’t write about how bizarre I am.”
“It wasn’t bizarre; it was honest.” Derek started the engine and slid the stick shift into reverse. “Are you familiar with that magazine?”
“Antiquities? No. But I’m going to look it up.”
“That’s my girl.”
*
That night we had reservations at Umbria, our favorite Italian restaurant on the Lane. We arrived early, so Derek waited at the bar while I dashed across the street to say hello to my sister China at Warped, the yarn and weaving shop she owned.
I spotted China with six ladies gathered around the giant loom at the back of the store. She waved but didn’t come over, so I figured she was in the middle of a class. I took the time to wander around admiring the beautiful yarns and threads and designs she had on display. Several sets of brightly colored place mats were stacked on a shelf, and a number of intricate wall hangings were draped along one wall. A dowel hanging from the ceiling held beautifully crocheted wool scarves. Dozens of balls of colorful yarns were tossed into baskets and placed around the shop. I was drawn to a small, fluffy woven doggy bed on a side shelf and wondered if Charlie the kitten would like to sleep in something warm and cozy like that.
My sister was so talented, I thought wistfully. She was an incredible textiles artist and a beautiful mother. But then, all of my sisters were talented in one way or another, and I included myself. Not that I could weave or cook, but when it came to making or taking apart a book, I knew what I was doing. Although I had to admit I often wished I had the talent to cook something more than a boiled egg. Heck, I even screwed that up sometimes.
But hey, I also had a talent for finding dead bodies, although that wasn’t anything to stand up and cheer about. I realized I was squeezing a ball of midnight blue alpaca yarn as if it were a stress toy and quickly dropped it into a nearby basket.
“Oh, hey. Hi.”
I whipped around to see Josh Atherton, the reporter, standing a few feet behind me. “Oh, hi. It’s Josh, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Wow, I’m thrilled that I ran into you.”
I checked to see if China was free yet. “I just stopped by for a minute.”
He glanced around, looking a little awestruck. “This is such an amazing place. I mean, wow, so many great colors and patterns. Does the owner make all these things?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Wow,” he said again, and I wondered if I was making him nervous. “The stores up here are so full of cool stuff. Awesome.” He turned in a circle, taking it all in, but then appeared to be embarrassed by his gushing, if his pink cheeks were anything to go by. “Sorry, I get distracted sometimes.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling. “This is my sister’s store, and I happen to think it’s fabulous.”
“Oh.” He grinned and gazed around again. “That makes it even cooler.”
I chuckled.
He scratched his head, still embarrassed. “Anyway, thank you so much for answering my question earlier. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable. I could tell you gave a heartfelt response.”
“It was honest,” I admitted. “But I don’t usually bare my soul in public like that.”
“I live for those moments.” He grinned again, and I noticed he had dimples in his cheeks. He wore a thin, navy cashmere V-neck sweater over a white button-down shirt and blue jeans. His dark blond hair was a bit scruffy, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. He was ridiculously cute.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I would love to set up an appointment to talk to you further. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time, but I’d like to write an in-depth story on this discovery.”
“I’m not the person to talk to. I can point you toward people who are more connected to the discovery.”
“But I can tell you have a real emotional connection to that cave.”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
He smiled again. “You’re being modest, but I understand.” He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s my cell number if you change your mind. I’m staying in the area this week, and I would consider it an honor if you called.”
I glanced down at his card, then back at him. “I’ll think about it.”
“I hope so. Thanks again.” He shook my hand heartily and walked out of the store.
“Who was that cutie pie?” my sister whispered.
I whipped around and gave her a hug. “I didn’t realize you were finished. How are you?”