As I watched, a low, sleek, forest-green Jaguar purred out of the gate, a woman with black hair and enormous, expensive-looking sunglasses at the wheel. Her diamond pendant earring twinkled in the sun as she turned left, intent on her destination, not noticing me at all.
I took the opportunity to backtrack a few steps and peek into the compound as the gate shut. I could see the enormous Tudor facade, set off by a lawn that was beautifully landscaped with roses and trailing ivy, and two cars. One, right in front of the house, was a gorgeous, wood-sided antique car. The other, an ancient Honda whose body was half rust, squatted in a gravel drive that led to what looked like a carriage house half-tucked behind the mansion, and probably close to the servant's entrance. I thought I saw a glimpse of a woman with dark hair in one of the upstairs windows before the gates nicked shut.
I looked down at Winston, who was impatient with my stops and starts and anxious to move on and check out more of the olfactory landscape. "Sorry, buddy," I murmured, and we walked on toward town, following the direction the woman had gone.
As Winston investigated the curb lining the road, I found myself wondering about the driver of the sleek, expensive car. Was she the woman who had threatened Cal the night before? If not, why was she at the house? I'd have to ask Bethany and Denise if they knew who she was... or who Cal had been seeing. One of them, I couldn't remember who, had said he had dated multiple people. Had one of his girlfriends found out about another?
There was one thing I could say for Cal Parker: he certainly seemed to have had a lot of people angry at him before he died.
I walked home slowly, passing several cute and sleepy houses before I was back in Snug Harbor proper, I relished the colorful shop windows and the gorgeous planters, which were overflowing with jewel-like orange and red nasturtiums, white and crimson geraniums, and vivid purple lobelia. As Winston sniffed at a particularly lovely container garden in a whiskey barrel, I made a mental note to add some plantings to the barrels of geraniums at the front of the shop; a few more pops of color would make the already adorable shingle-style building even more enchanting.
As I passed the Snug Harbor Suncatchers store, entranced by the brilliant stained-glass creations that twirled in the morning breeze, I caught a glimpse of myself in the empty store window across the street and winced. I hadn't looked in the mirror before I left the store; I'd scrunched my hair up in a ponytail when I was standing behind the register, and now a big chunk was standing up in a lump on the left side of my head. Thank goodness I hadn't seen anyone I knew yet... not that I knew that many people in Snug Harbor these days anyway. But I had just reached up to fix that hair lump when around the corner appeared Nicholas, who was staring down at his phone and carrying a paper cup of coffee with Sea Beans' logo.
Or had been, until he ran into me.
As we collided, his coffee cup jolted out of his hand, covering both of us in warm, milky latte.
"Oh my gosh... I'm so sorry!" I said, my hand still in my lumpy hair and my T-shirt now covered in coffee, which thankfully was no longer piping hot.
Nicholas was also covered in coffee, but unlike me, he was wearing nicer clothes—khakis and a green button-down shirt, both of which were now liberally splotched. To my relief, he grinned at me, then bent to retrieve my travel mug.
"Why are you sorry? We both ran into each other."
"I just wasn't paying attention," I said, about to tell him I was checking myself out in the store window across the street, then catching myself just in time. Something about the way he looked at me made my face heat up. I suddenly realized I still had an enormous hair lump on the top of my head. I yanked the rubber band out of my hair and attempted to fluff it nonchalantly, wishing I'd taken five minutes to at least glance at myself in the mirror before heading out the door.
"Me neither," he said. "I just got a text from a client, and should have been watching where I was going instead of attempting to type with my thumbs. I'm just thankful you weren't a Suburban."
I laughed. Speaking of texts, I hadn't heard from my girls in a while, and I had some questions to ask them. Like, about why nobody had mentioned my ex was dating K. T. Anderson, glamorous bestselling author extraordinaire. Although it wasn't a fair question; that really was his responsibility to share, not theirs, now that I thought of it.
"I heard you had a bit of a surprise this morning," he said. "I'm sorry you were the one who had to find him."
"Cal Parker? Yeah. It was a bit of a shock," I admitted.
"You and your canine companion found him on your morning walk? That’s what the Snug Harbor grapevine is saying. Which isn't entirely to be trusted, although at least they didn't have you toting along a wagon filled with monkeys."
"A wagon full of monkeys?"
"Sometimes a bit of embellishment happens as news travels," he said. "I also heard that the cops printed you."
I held up my still stained fingertips. "They did," I said.
"Not the best welcome back to town, is it?"
"No," I said. "And you don't know the half of it."
