“Thank you for this,” I said, turning the card over in my fingers. It was made from heavy, cream-colored card stock with a streamlined font—Century Gothic, I thought—in black. I remembered Liam saying the wine dealer had been handing out business cards.
“This doesn’t mean I think they’re right,” he cautioned.
“Doesn’t mean you think they’re wrong, either.”
“I didn’t say that, Sarah,” he said. He shook his head and gave me a wry smile. “Look, when I saw that photo I remembered the guy. There wasn’t anything shifty about him. He was personable and well-spoken.”
“But,” I finished.
“Just between us?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded.
“I noticed that he was just a little faster handing those out to anyone who looked to be a senior. At the time I chalked it up to him just targeting people who seemed more likely to have money.”
“Or maybe he was targeting people who’d be a little more open to his pitch.” I looked at the card again. “Thorne Logan,” I said. “You think that’s a real name?”
Nick shrugged. “It could be. I had a chemistry class with a girl named Peaches.” He looked at his watch. “Do me a favor? Try to rein them in if they do find the guy.”
I laughed. “Right. Because I’ve done such a good job in the past.”
He rolled his eyes. “They listen to you more than they listen to me.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I promised.
“Thanks,” he said. One eyebrow went up and the corners of his lips twitched. “Nice shirt.”
I put a hand on my chest and looked down at my tee. It was a Power Rangers shirt. Nick had bought it to replace the similar one I’d had as a kid that he’d wiped his nose on—an act he claimed was one of social commentary but that I thought was just him being a boy.
“I never asked, where on earth did you find it?”
“EBay. I’ve been watching for a Samurai Pizza Cats shirt for Liam’s birthday.”
I laughed. “He’ll kill me for telling you about that, but it would be worth it.”
“I’ll warn you if I find it,” Nick said. He looked at his watch again. “I’ve gotta go. Will I see you Thursday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
I locked the door behind him and went back to the sofa, where Elvis was waiting. I sat down beside him and he craned his neck over my arm to look at the business card. The only thing on it was Thorne Logan’s name and a phone number. Any connection between him and the fake wine was spiderweb thin at best. And what about the woman with the plaid purse? Were they connected? Was she involved at all? The only thing we had to go on was Rose’s gut feeling.
The cat cocked his head to one side and gave me a quizzical look.
“I’m not really sure what this means, either,” I said to him.
Mac and Rose went out to work on the Hall house Monday morning. Charlotte and I stayed at the shop. I was expecting Cleveland, the other picker I bought from regularly, to stop by with his haul from the weekend.
I spent a chunk of my time outside working on an old metal cabinet that Jess and I had found in the ditch along an old woods road. I could still see the look on Mac’s face when I’d asked him to help me lift it out of the back of the SUV.
“Let me get this straight,” he’d said. “You found this in a ditch?”
“People dump their garbage out on a couple of those woods roads because they don’t want to pay the fee at the landfill,” I’d said, pulling on a pair of canvas work gloves before grabbing one side of the cabinet. “It’s disgusting.”
“So you decided to bring it here? How exactly did you get this . . . thing from the ditch to your car?”
“Jess and I carried it.”
Jess had actually been the one who climbed down into the mud and heaved the metal cabinet up onto the trail.
Mac had tried to swallow down a grin and pretty much failed. “I don’t know, Sarah,” he’d said. “I think you may have jumped the shark this time.”
“O ye of little faith,” I’d said as he’d help me carry the cabinet into the old garage. Now, standing on a tarp, scraping who knew how many years of blistered, peeling paint off the old metal, I wondered if he was right. Not that I was willing to admit defeat yet.
Cleveland showed up midmorning. I bought a couple of paintings, three potato baskets and an armless upholstered chair that looked as though it had been used as a cat scratching post.
Avery and Mr. P. showed up at lunchtime. Avery’s progressive school only had morning classes, so she worked most afternoons for me. Liz grumbled that there was no way she was learning anything only attending classes in the morning, but from what I’d seen of Avery’s homework, they seemed to be using the time well. I had no idea what exactly had happened at home or at her previous school, but being in North Harbor had been good for the teen. And living with Liz, for all they squabbled about kale smoothies and Avery’s driving, had been good for both of them. I sent her out to the garage to work on a set of old kitchen cabinets I wanted to eventually use for storage out there.
After lunch of a turkey sandwich made with Charlotte’s leftovers, I went out to the porch. Mr. P. was at his computer.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said. “How was your morning?”
“I started working on that old cabinet,” I said.
He smiled. “I’m sure it will be lovely when you’re done.”
I smiled back at him. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m confident that I will be.”
I held out the business card. “I think this is the man you’re looking for,” I said. I’d thought about giving the card to Charlotte and decided against it. I didn’t know why Nick hadn’t just given it to his mother and I didn’t want to cause a problem between them. “I tried the number, but all I got was a very robotic leave-a-number message.”
“Thank you,” Mr. P. said.
He didn’t seem surprised, I realized.
“It occurs to me that it might be better if I didn’t ask you how you came to get this card,” he added.
I wasn’t the only one who could read Nick’s tells, I realized.
“You’re a very observant man,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
The old man adjusted his glasses and smiled at me again. “Over the years I’ve discovered that being observant has its advantages.”
“Yes, it does,” I agreed. I looked over at his computer. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said.
I spent the next half hour returning phone calls in my office. I came downstairs to see how Avery was doing packing parcels just as Ethan Hall came into the shop. I’d called Stella and told her about finding the train and about Channing Caulfield’s claim on the rare model cars. She’d told me she’d talk to Ethan and promised one of them would get back to me.
“Hi, Sarah, do you have a minute?” Ethan asked.
“Of course,” I said, walking over to him. It was like standing next to Nick. Even in heels I felt short.
“Aunt Stella told me about the model train,” he said. There was a day’s worth of stubble on his chin, blond, like his short hair. “Do you think Caulfield has a claim on it?”
“Possibly,” I said. “There’s that bottle of wine that changed hands because of it.”
Ethan blew out a breath. “Damn it,” he muttered.
“I have an idea,” I said.
“I hope he doesn’t expect me to pay for that bottle of wine,” he said. “I’m sorry he got conned, but so did my dad.”
“Don’t worry about the wine,” I said. “Stella told me about Ellie needing surgery on her back.”
His blue eyes clouded over. “Then she probably also told you that the surgery is considered experimental.”
I nodded. “I think Channing Caulfield might be persuaded to relinquish his claim on the model train so it can be sold with the proceeds going into a fund for Ellie’s surgery.” I raised an eyebrow. “He gets to look good.”