“And lives in Dallas?”
“Yep. Left town shortly after we all graduated from high school.” When she left again, Melanie would miss her all the more. Seeing Zoe’s face around town made it feel more like home.
“I’ll have to find out where she works when I go again. I wouldn’t mind sampling her other menus.”
Melanie stood and grabbed her plate. “You won’t be disappointed. Can I grab you anything while I’m up?”
“No, no . . . I’m good. Why don’t you go enjoy your town?”
Such a thoughtful man. “Wyatt’s lucky to have a dad like you,” she told him.
William smiled and cocked his head to the side. “Where are your parents, darlin’?”
The thought had crossed her mind a dozen times once she realized Hope was going to be okay. “My mom called, her boyfriend took her on a cruise . . .” Melanie was too embarrassed to tell him that her mom didn’t offer to jump off at the nearest port to join her. When she’d called and heard Hope was going to be okay . . . she suggested Melanie call her if things changed. “My dad didn’t get word from my brother, Mark, until night before last.”
“And is he going to visit?”
She paused. “Not all family is helpful, William.”
She heard Zoe laughing from across the street and turned to see her talking with Wyatt, Luke, and Alan Crane.
“It’s a good thing you have such a tight circle of friends.”
“Yeah . . . a very good thing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They’d been filming all day.
Crane and the crew showed up at the inn before dawn with two huge trucks and a crew of no less than twenty-five people. There were shots taken as the morning fog lifted from the ground, and they filmed the sunrise from the vantage point of where Hope had been standing the last time Miss Gina saw her.
A small company of actors resembling Miss Gina, Melanie, and Hope were brought in, as well as a man who had the same body type and general look of Mr. Lewis.
The fake Mr. Lewis went through the motions of being checked into the inn by the fake Miss Gina for close to two hours before they got it right. Melanie stood to the side and watched as her double told the Hope’s double to stop running through the inn. It took four takes before getting it right, and each one was a tiny knife in her side.
In the dining room, Mr. Crane had set up the interview room for the real players in the American Fugitive program.
Watching Miss Gina fidget under the hand of the makeup artist was almost comical. Eventually she settled down to recall, for the camera, as many details as she could about Mr. Lewis.
Mr. Crane was a gracious host who asked questions with real concern for the answers. He didn’t ask her to repeat anything in any way other than how she felt. “What went through your mind when you realized a guest in your inn was the one responsible for Hope’s disappearance?”
Her eyes glossed over and a blank stare went beyond Mr. Crane and to the wall behind him. “I’d rather not implicate myself on national television,” she said, deadpan.
Mr. Crane laughed . . . a knowing sound you knew he’d felt to his bone. “It’s time to get this scumbag off the street,” he said as he covered Miss Gina’s hand with his.
Someone yelled cut and everyone moved except Miss Gina and Mr. Crane.
Melanie didn’t hear what they said after that since the noise in the room elevated by fifty percent. But whatever it was, it ended in a hug that lingered before Miss Gina turned and left the room.
Wyatt stepped in through the same door Miss Gina exited, found Melanie with his eyes, and walked her way. “How’s Hope doing?”
“A little clingy, but liking the attention I think. Between the town picnic and this . . . she’s been the center of attention for some time.”
“It’s going to get really boring when all this settles,” Wyatt said.
“I could go for boring right about now.” Sleep still wasn’t happening without hours of tossing and turning. It only took a couple of days for Hope to kick her out of her room. And since Miss Gina all but refused anyone at the inn until they could figure out a way to stop what happened to Hope from ever happening again, with the exception of Mr. Crane and his assistant, the place was empty. Even William stayed with Wyatt at his house.
“Are you ready, Miss Bartlett?”
It was her turn for the minute or two clip that would go on the actual footage of the show. She didn’t think about the audience that would watch . . . she thought about the man needing to be caught.
“You look beautiful,” Wyatt said, pulling her out of her thoughts.