Lost Souls

“No one’s looking this way,” Sam said, his voice gruff. “Why’s that? We just walked through a door that’s not supposed to be here.”

“It’s not for them to see,” she said, enjoying the deepening frown that darkened his blue-as-the-sky eyes.

“Would I see the door if I came back without you?”

Cait shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should try it sometime.” She blew out a deep breath and glanced around them. “It’s going to be a hike.”

Sam grunted. “We couldn’t have followed the crows in the car?”

She flashed him a smile. “Would it have been nearly as much fun?”

His lopsided grin made her heart skip a beat. Lord, he was a sexy man. Too bad they had work to do.

A butterfly shouldn’t be that hard to find.

7

“Are you planning a summer wedding? Or early fall? Keep in mind I can only provide monarchs through November.”

Sam shot a glare at Cait, who’d been smiling like a giddy bride since the moment they’d arrived at the Paradise Butterfly Farm—or at least like she imagined a giddy bride might smile.

On Cait, the forced excitement looked strangely maniacal. The vision wasn’t helped by the quick transformation she’d made in the car while driving there. Her long curly hair was confined to a high ponytail. She’d bitten her lips and pinched her pale cheeks to make them pink since she didn’t carry a handbag with cosmetics. The vacant stare and vapid smile wouldn’t have looked amiss on a blonde. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cait said, twirling the end of her ponytail. “I’m not feeling it. Do you have anything rare? Something really special?”

Mrs. Edelstein’s polite smile faltered. “The silver gulfs have a shorter season, but they would cost you more.”

No doubt she’d eyed Cait’s well-worn jeans and plain black tank and figured she was the one marrying up. Maybe Mrs. Edelstein figured her daddy’s bank account wouldn’t cover the expense of a butterfly release.

“I meant, do you have any truly rare butterflies here at all? I’ve been fascinated with butterflies ever since the idea popped into my mind.”

Mrs. E’s lips tightened just a little more, revealing a hint of annoyance.

Sam didn’t blame her. She hadn’t expected customers to arrive this late in the day. Cait’s wheedling pleas and hint that she needed “masses and masses” of butterflies to celebrate her wedding had convinced the woman to stay open long enough for them to make the twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of the city, where her “farm” sat on three acres of forested land.

Middle-aged and with unnaturally dark brown hair and a stout figure, Mrs. E, as she’d told them she preferred to be called, caved beneath the bright expectancy and stubborn charm of “Caitydid Migelo.” Her sigh gave away her surrender.

“The rare ones aren’t for release, dear. But if you’d like to see the butterfly house, I have some endangered species there. I don’t get many folks interested in seeing my treasures, other than the odd collector, and I won’t sell to them only to have their desiccated little bodies displayed on a wall like some trophy.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” Cait said, her expression wide-eyed, admiring. “Could I see those before we make our decision about which butterflies we’d like to have released during our nuptials?”

Nuptials? He’d never heard Cait use that word before. It made him shiver with dread. And what was she up to? The woman had tons of bugs. She’d never miss one from those swarming the monarch shed.

As Mrs. E turned on the beaten path to lead the way, Sam mouthed, What are you doing?

Cait lifted her shoulders. Go with it.

Mrs. E led them through another deeply wooded trail in her large backyard, toward a plastic-wrapped domed greenhouse. “It’s such a thrill to have visitors. Most of my business is conducted via the Internet these days.”

Cait tugged her hand free and skipped behind the older woman, her hair bobbing behind her. She tossed a smile over her shoulder and gave Sam a wink.

He couldn’t help but smile at her antics.

“I had no idea so many people were ordering butterflies for their weddings,” Cait jabbered on. “But when Aunt Celeste mentioned there were local breeders, I had to come see. I can’t imagine anything more appropriate for a wedding.”

Mrs. E nodded. “Yes, a caterpillar leaving its chrysalis to fly free… The change is so very symbolic of new life, isn’t it? Although butterflies are becoming the rage at funerals these days too.”

Sam shook his head at the nonsense. The thought of the type of wedding or funeral where butterflies flying out of boxes would be appropriate made him itch.

Cait had been far more sensible when they’d decided to marry. A service at City Hall with a judge had taken all of fifteen minutes. The only thing either of them had wanted to savor was the wedding night.

“You’re so very lucky you came today,” Mrs. E said, pausing at the door of yet another shed. “I found a Hessel’s hairstreak nectaring on an Amelanchier today. I bought an Atlantic white cedar, that’s the hairstreak’s host tree, and planted it years ago, hoping it would thrive so that I could see this day.”

“It’s that rare?” Cait said, her excitement unfeigned.

Mrs. E unlocked the rickety plastic door and pushed it open. “On the endangered species list, my dear. Just wait until you see it.”

As they entered, Sam blew out a breath, worried because Cait’s expression had lost its giddy vacancy for a split second.

Her eyes narrowed as her gaze flitted about, looking for her quarry. “What’s a hairstreak look like? I’m assuming that’s a butterfly, or is it a moth?”

“A butterfly. Minty green and brown. Ahhh. Here he is.”

The woman stood with her hands clasped in delight beside a butterfly “nectaring” on a white flower.

Sam eyed it, wondering about the fuss but admitting it was pretty. Mostly vivid green, the insect had white spots on its forewings, a dashed white line on its hindwings, and a rim of brown and black along the edges of its delicate larger wings.

“She’s perfect,” Cait whispered.

With his stomach sinking to his toes, he watched as Cait pulled her phone surreptitiously from her pocket and held it to the side while she tapped the screen.

A telephone rang in the distance.

Mrs. E turned toward the distant sound. “Oh my. That might be another customer. If you would come with me…”

Cait’s expression fell. Disappointment shone in her puppy-like eyes. “Can we stay here while you answer your call?” she asked, the wheedling note reentering her voice. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful, the ambience I need to convince my fiance that butterflies are just the thing we need to finish off our wedding plans.”

The woman’s gaze darted to her precious butterfly, her smile slipping. “Well, if you promise not to touch a thing. I won’t be a moment.”

Cait smiled, her gaze following the woman until she left through the plastic door. Then she whipped her head toward Sam. “Quick, your coffee cup.”

Sam shook his head. “Cait, why not ask her for one of the monarchs? She has hundreds.”

She pulled a mulish face. “Because this butterfly has to be special.”

“It has to be endangered?”

“It’s the most special one here.” She stomped her foot. “Now give me that cup.”

Still in bride mode. He thought maybe the wedding thing had gone a little too far because she was acting