“And Owen, too,” I added.
Roma’s head was bent over her plate. She didn’t even look up. “I know I’m going to be sorry I asked this,” she said, “but what do you mean ‘and Owen too’?”
Before I could answer, the cat did. He stalked over to Roma’s chair, looked up and meowed at her. Then he sat down and looked expectantly across the table at me. Clearly it was my job to fill in the details.
I gestured at the little gray tabby. “Owen found something that could have been a clue, but it turned out not to be.”
“I’m not even going to ask how that happened,” Roma said.
Mags smiled at Owen and gave him a thumbs-up. Then she straightened up in her chair. “I don’t suppose these two could figure out what happened.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry. That isn’t very nice of me. Mike’s dead and I’m thinking about the tour pitch.”
“Is it really that big a deal?” Roma asked.
“It could be,” Maggie said. “At least that’s what Liam believes. You know how quiet it is around here in the fall. Anything that could bring in tourists has to be good. He and Mary and Ruby, a couple of people from the hotel, Thorsten—they’ve put so much time and energy into this pitch.”
“I think you do like Liam,” I said teasingly.
She rolled her eyes. “Not in the way you mean. It’s just for fun between us. Liam likes to rescue damsels in distress and I’m not really the damsel type.” I saw her hand move and knew she’d just managed to slip Owen something from her plate. “For instance, last Thursday I’m meeting him for lunch at Fern’s, and as I’m coming from the parking lot, I see him with Wren Magnusson of all people, heads together, talking about something.” She gave her own head a little shake. “Turns out she’d had a flat the night before and Liam had stopped to help. Then, of course, Liam being Liam, when he saw her the next day, he had to make sure she’d gotten a new tire. He’s always doing things like that.”
“He sounds like a nice guy,” I said.
Maggie wiped a dab of sauce off the side of her mouth with her napkin. “He’s got a big heart,” she said. “I wouldn’t want him to be any different.” She gestured at Roma with the napkin. “It’s just that when Roma walks into a room, she’s the only person Eddie sees.”
Roma grinned and her cheeks got pink.
“And you and Marcus, I swear, the two of you could be standing in the middle of a hurricane and all you’d notice is each other.” She shot me a warning look. “Don’t say it’s not true, because the entire town thinks you two should just get on with it and admit you’re nuts about each other.”
“Well, Mary did offer to teach me a few things,” I said.
“What kind of things?” Roma asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
I did a little shimmy in my seat and copied Mary’s tugging-off-the-glove motion.
Roma covered her eyes. “Way more information than I need,” she said.
“Did you say yes?” Maggie asked, a teasing gleam in her eyes.
My cheeks were burning. “No, I didn’t,” I said. “Time to change the subject.”
“Kathleen, have you decided what you’re going to tell Everett?” Roma asked, pushing back her empty plate.
I dipped a potato wedge in the last bit of sauce on my plate. “There’s a lot to think about,” I hedged. “I like Mayville Heights, and I can’t imagine not sitting here with the two of you, or going to tai chi, or being at Eric’s for lunch.”
“So stay,” Maggie said quietly.
“I miss my family,” I said. “I didn’t realize how much until I went back to Boston to see them. They drive me crazy, but I do love them. And my life was in Boston for a long time. I have connections and people I care about there, too.”
Roma tipped her head to one side and smiled. “Do what feels right, what makes you happy. We’ll be friends no matter what you choose.”
Maggie stuck out her fork into the middle of the table.
“If you’re still hungry, there’s more in the pot,” I said.
She made a face. “No. We’re the Three Musketeers. You know, all for one, one for all.”
“I thought we were Charlie’s Angels,” I said.
“This isn’t going to end with you two hijacking my car, is it?” Roma asked.
“You’re both so awful at the symbolic moment,” Maggie said. She wiggled her fork. “C’mon. All for one.”
I looked at Roma. “She isn’t going to give in until we do this.” I picked up my fork and stretched across the table so it rested on Maggie’s fork.
Roma looked at the two of us and shook her head; then she picked up her own fork and leaned forward until the tines were resting on the other two. It would have been far more dramatic with fencing foils.
“All for one,” Maggie said with a grin.
“And one for all,” Roma and I joined in, laughing.
In that moment, whether or not I should stay seemed so simple.
16
Both Harry Taylors—Senior and Junior—came into the library Saturday morning just after we opened.
I put my arm around the older man’s shoulders and gave him a hug. “It’s so good to see you,” I said.
“It’s good to be seen,” he said. “I was getting so tired of being cooped up in the house. I figured I was going to have to use a soup spoon to tunnel my way out when my keepers were asleep.”
“You can see he’s feeling much better,” his son said dryly, heading over to the desk to give Mary three hardcover books and a couple of DVDs.
Harrison had just gotten over a second serious middle ear infection that had left him unsteady on his feet and caused at least one blackout that I knew of. He was using his cane, but he wasn’t relying on it quite as much as the last time I’d seen him.
“I’m not planning on being a customer of Dan Gunnerson anytime soon,” he said tartly.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” I said, smiling at him. Dan Gunnerson ran Gunnerson’s Funeral Home.
“I have a few more bulbs I want to put in,” Harry said. “Dad figured he’d come along and freeload a cup of coffee he shouldn’t really be drinking off of you.”
“First of all, if a cup of coffee once in a while was going to kill me, Gunnerson would have planted me—probably in some ridiculously overpriced box—years ago,” the old man said. “And second, Kathleen enjoys my company.” He winked at me. “I’m very charming.”
The younger Harry shook his head and headed for the door. “He’s all yours, Kathleen,” he said over his shoulder. “I won’t be long.”
I offered Harrison my arm. “Are you actually allowed to have a cup of coffee?” I asked.
“Depends on how you define ‘allowed,’” he said, as we made our way to the seating area overlooking the water, at the end of the double row of computer desks.
I narrowed my gaze. “Am I going to get in trouble if I get you one?”
He gave me a sly grin. “Not with me you won’t.” With his snowy beard and mischievous blue eyes, he looked like Santa Claus without the red suit. And he really was charming.