He frowned. “You did?”
“I suggested the possibility.”
“Oh. Well. That’s okay. I am pretty stupid sometimes.” He took a bite of steak, then pushed away his plate, on which remained half his sweet potato and most of the squash and carrot mix. “The prognosis for this little guy is good, but . . .” He left the sentence dangling, so I finished it for him.
“It still sucks.”
“You know it.” He formed his right hand into a pistol and shot the air near my head. “And now’s the time to explain why you’ve been so abnormally quiet. Are there more wedding problems for your aunt?”
“Not that I’ve heard. We still haven’t fixed the last round.” Aunt Frances and Otto had been e-mailing daily with people in Bermuda, but at this point there was no solution. If there wasn’t an alternative found within the next week or so, they’d have to abandon the island idea altogether.
“So what’s up?” He reached out for my hands. “Put that knife and fork down a second and talk to me. You haven’t eaten a bite in five minutes anyway. All you’ve done is cut that poor slice of meat to tiny ribbons.”
His hands, warm and strong, were dinged with scratches from working on the house. I traced a short reddish line, remembering how he’d picked that one up from trying to hold too many screws in one hand.
“Talk,” he said. “Tell me whatever it is that’s bothering you. I want to know.”
I looked up. “Truly?”
“Absolutely.” He lifted up one of my hands and kissed it. “If it’s something ridiculous, I reserve the right to make fun, but I promise not to laugh out loud.”
It was as much as anyone could expect. I remember my aunt’s words of wisdom, that I should be honest with Rafe about working with the sheriff’s department, that I needed to be open with the things that were important to me, that if I hid things now, what would I hide later? And if I wanted him to be honest with me, I should do the same in return.
So I told him. About how I’d been in regular contact with Hal and Ash. How we were exchanging information on suspects. About the stupid sugar packet. About why I wanted so much to help Anya and Collier. When I got all the way to the end, he just looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
He suddenly grinned, and his expression lightened the dim room. Lightened my life. “I knew most of that already.”
“What?” I asked again, far more stupidly this time. “How?”
“How not?” He tapped the back of my hands with his thumbs. “Remember where we live? People talk.”
“Um.” There were numerous benefits to small-town life, but this wasn’t one of them. “Are you mad?”
He shook his head. “It was obvious after the First Argument that you weren’t going to stop. And I understand why you’re doing it. So mostly I was just wondering when you were going to tell me.”
“You’re not mad about that, either?” I asked, my voice soft. “Because you have a right to be. I should have told you earlier.”
“No, I’m not,” he said a bit wonderingly. “I’m really not. Weird, isn’t it?”
“Nope. It’s great,” I said quickly. “Thanks. You’re the best ever.”
“Naturally. But there’s one thing.”
I knew there’d be a catch. “What’s that?” I asked warily.
“Let me help.”
• • •
The next day was a library day, and I spent most of the morning doing my best to come to grips with the fact that Rafe wanted to help find Rowan’s killer.
“It’s happened before,” he’d said during dessert. “Couples chasing down bad guys.”
“Nick and Nora,” I said, nodding.
“Who?” He frowned. “Do I know them?”
Clearly not. Though Rafe did, in fact, read books, he preferred nonfiction, and I should have known the reference to the Dashiell Hammett books would be lost on him. “Who are you talking about?” I asked.
“Almost every movie ever produced has a couple figuring something out, whether it’s how to save the world, like in War Games. Or tracking down precious objects, like in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Or finally recognizing how much they love each other, like in When Harry Met Sally . . .”
He had a point, and since he’d ended with a movie that bore some similarities to our relationship, I’d given him a kiss. “It’s nice that you’re so familiar with old movies, and I appreciate your offer. If I can think of anything you can do to help, I’ll let you know.”
Now I was doing my regular late-morning walk-through of the library. This not only got me out and about and let me chat with library patrons, but also kept my body from freezing into a desk-bound position. I could almost see my mother nodding in approval, so I nodded back to her across the miles.
“Good morning, Minnie.”
I blinked out of my parental-induced daydream and focused on the young woman in front of me. “Morning, Anya. I didn’t know you were still in town. Doing some research at the famed Chilson District Library that you can’t possibly get done at your silly old university library?”
She smiled. “Sort of.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“That’s why I’m here.” She looked around, saw no one, and moved closer. “Collier told me not to bother you, he said it doesn’t mean anything, but I think I have to.”
“Okay,” I said. “Is this about your mom?”
She nodded. “And Land Aprelle, do you know him? After Dad started working downstate, Mom hired Land to do some of the bigger chores around the house.”
I had a feeling I knew where this was going, but I let her keep talking.
Anya took hold of a small lock of her auburn hair and started twisting the daylights out of it. “A few days before Mom died, she and Land had this really big argument, and—”
I nodded. “I’m glad you are telling me, but your dad already talked to me about it. You don’t need to relive it again if you don’t want to.”
“Oh.” Anya sighed. “Good. I don’t, really. Just so long as you know everything.”
There wasn’t much to know, as far as I could tell. I was about to ask what else there might be, but the creaking of the back door distracted me, and when Graydon walked through it, my attention was good and diverted. He’d been downstate attending an undoubtedly fun-filled training session on the library’s software, and I’d thought he was due back the next day, not today. Odd.
I swung back to face Anya. “I’ll call you later, okay?” She hesitated, then nodded, and I hurried after Graydon. His legs, however, were far longer than mine and I had to jog to catch up to him.
“Good morning,” I said, just before he opened the stairway door that led up to his lair. “I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow.”
“Morning, Minnie.” Graydon set down his briefcase and pulled off his gloves. “I’d scheduled an extra day to meet with the state library folks, but there was a mix-up with the dates. I’ll have to meet up with them next time I’m in Lansing.”
State library? Next time? None of that made any sense to me. I mean, it might be useful that Graydon had contacts down there, but I couldn’t come up with a reasonable scenario. But determined not to get sidetracked, I ignored that shiny distraction. “Do you have a minute? We can talk in my office.”
He looked at his heavy boots, which were dripping snow and ice onto the tile. “Right now?”
Yes, because if he went upstairs to take off his winter wear, he’d ask me to go with him. Which meant I’d be forced to have this conversation on his turf and I wanted every advantage I could get, teeny tiny though it was.
“This will only take a minute,” I said.
“Okay, but if Gareth comes after me, I’m going to confess that you forced me.”
I laughed and ushered him into my small office. That he was sparing a second of concern for our maintenance guy made me think, once again, that Graydon was a good and decent guy and had the potential to be a fantastic boss. And yet . . .