“Fine,” Liz said. “What time works for you?”
“How about late this afternoon?” I said. “I have a meeting with someone from the Wellington Group later this morning. It looks like that rumor Charlotte heard was right. They’ve invested in North Landing.”
Rose looked at me. “When did all this happen?”
“A little while ago,” I said. “It’ll be a sales pitch, but I thought maybe we could learn a little more about Jon West and the company if I went.”
“Good thinking, Sarah,” Mr. P. said, smiling at me and giving me a thumbs-up. “Since we haven’t been able to find out anything from the outside, we’ll just have to infiltrate them.”
“We should talk to Caroline,” Rose said.
Liz shook her head. “It won’t work. She isn’t going to tell you anything.”
“Maybe not,” Rose said. “But it won’t hurt to try.” She looked at Charlotte. “Will you come with me after work?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “I have a pot roast in the slow cooker. We can have supper afterward.”
“I’m going to see what else I can find on young Mr. Swift’s disappearance,” Mr. P. said.
“All right,” Rose said. “Everyone has a job. I’ll go put the tea on.” She headed for the front.
Charlotte smiled at me. “I’ll go give Mac a hand.” She must have seen something in my face because she leaned closer to me. “And I’ll keep an eye on Rose when we go see Caroline.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She headed for the shop.
I leaned over and bumped Liz with my shoulder.
“I meant what I said,” I told her. “It’s not your fault. And Elspeth is fine. Don’t lose sight of that.”
She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I would have pounded that young man into sand,” she said in a voice edged with venom.
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” I said as we started for the door.
“We’re onto something,” she said. “I can feel it in my bones.”
“Well, I’m not going to argue with your bones.”
She smiled. “Don’t get saucy with me, missy. I changed your diapers.”
I laughed. They’d all changed my diapers.
Liz’s expression grew serious again. “Elspeth said the day Lily died was Caleb Swift’s birthday. I think it means something.”
I didn’t say anything, but so did I.
Chapter 20
The Wellington Group office was in a brick building just up the street from the library. I recognized the young man at the reception desk. He’d worked as a waiter at The Black Bear for several summers. “Hello, Ronan,” I said.
He smiled up at me. He was wearing dark-rimmed glasses and a gray suit. “Hi, Ms. Grayson,” he said. “Ms. Kellogg will be out to get you in just a moment. May I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you,” I said. I looked around. “How long have you been working here?”
“It’s actually an internship,” he said, “and I’ve been here since January fifth.”
“Well, good luck,” I said.
He smiled again. “Thank you.”
Charmaine Kellogg looked exactly the way I’d envisioned her. She was wearing a black suit with a vibrant pink blouse. Her hair was slicked back in a high ponytail and, like Ronan, she was wearing glasses; hers had dark tortoiseshell frames.
We shook hands. “Ms. Redding is in her office,” she said. She pointed over her head. “I’ll take you up.”
The wooden staircase to the second floor couldn’t have been original, but the mellow wood fit the tone of the restored space.
“This is a beautiful building,” I said.
She gave me a professional smile. “Mr. West worked on this project.”
I ran my hand over the polished wood of the banister. “I didn’t know that.”
She nodded. “Just over two years ago. Everything from the studs out is new. That’s when he got the idea for the North Landing project.”
I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around. Ahead there was an open area with chairs and two large multipaned windows that overlooked the harbor. Several of what I assumed were offices opened off the space.
“Jon does beautiful work,” I said.
She gave me that polished smile again. “Thank you. I’ll tell him you said that.”
“How long have you been in North Harbor?” I asked.
“Not long,” she said, leading me over to the chairs by the window. “Mr. West and I drove up from Boston together on the twenty-third.”
“This is very different from Boston.”
The professional smile got a little warmer. “I grew up in a small town. I like it here.” She tipped her head to one side. “Were you at The Black Bear last Thursday night, by any chance?”
I grinned at her. “Weren’t they terrific?”
“Incredible,” she said. “Do they do that every Thursday night?”
I nodded. “In the off-season, yes.” I gave her an appraising look. “So maybe we’ll see you this week?”
“Absolutely.” She gestured at the chair. “Have a seat and I’ll let Ms. Redding know you’re here.”
“That’s all right, Charmaine,” a familiar voice said behind me. “I’m here.”
I turned around to find my freshman-year college roommate standing there smiling at me.
“Hi, Sarah.” Sloane Redding crossed the few feet between us.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” I said. I hesitated and then hugged her. We broke out of the hug and grinned at each other.
Charmaine Kellogg was still standing beside me, a polite smile on her face.
Sloane turned to her. “Thanks, Charmaine,” she said. “I’ll take it from here.”
The younger woman nodded and headed for the stairs.
“You look wonderful.” Sloane gave me a quick appraising look.
“So do you,” I said. Her auburn hair was short, casually tousled in a cut that had probably cost more than a hundred dollars. Her wire-framed glasses had been replaced with nerd-chic black frames. She was wearing a slim brown pencil skirt with a jewel-toned turquoise blouse and heels that brought her up to my height.
“Come back to my office,” she said. She led me down a short jag of the hallway to an office with one exposed-brick wall and another beautiful view of the harbor. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating a pair of armless upholstered chairs in front of a long distressed table that she was using as a desk. I took one chair and she sat down in the other.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “The last time I saw you, you were going to be a teacher. How did you go from that to all this?” I gestured at the room.
She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Do you remember that semester I did in Mexico?”
I nodded.
“I worked at a school three days a week.” Her mouth twisted to one side for a moment. “I was lousy at it. I knew by the end of the first week that teaching was not going to be my life’s work.”
“It was really that bad?” I asked.
She leaned forward and nodded. “My adviser suggested I consider another major.”
“Ouch!”
“Tell me about it,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“So what happened?” I asked. “The last thing I heard, you were taking a semester off and staying in Mexico.”
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s what I did, for a couple of months, until my dad said he wasn’t sending me any more money.” She laughed. “He told me I had to get a job. So I came home and found one working the reception desk at an investment firm. When it was time to come back to school, I knew I wanted to study business.” Her expression changed. “Sarah, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I said.
“For pretty much disappearing without an explanation. I thought about you a lot. I should have written or called or something. I spent a lot of time sulking.” She shrugged. “I was a brat.”