“Good point,” agreed Doc. He turned back to Church. “It sounds like we’re in agreement. Decline the interview. Cite respect for the privacy of the guests or some shit like that.”
“It might not be that easy,” Church said, his lips pulling into a thin line. “I got a call from our friends in Pine Ridge. Sean Callaghan towed a rental that broke down on the back road between Pine Ridge and Sumneyville. A woman who told Nicki that she worked for the Sentinel Voice and was headed to Sanctuary.”
Cage shifted, the image of a woman with glossy, dark curls and glittering eyes coming to mind.
“She’s here?”” Heff asked, frowning.
Church nodded. “Apparently.”
“That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” Doc asked. “Coming out here before we’ve even responded?”
“She must have been on her way when she made the request through the website.”
“It’s smart,” Heff said thoughtfully. “Probably figured it would be harder for us to say no that way.”
“Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”
“I bet she’s attractive, too.”
“She is,” Cage said without thinking.
As one, they turned narrowed eyes his way.
It was Church who asked, “You’ve met her?”
“Sort of.” Cage relayed his brief encounter with the woman on the way back from Ian’s. He stuck to the facts and didn’t mention just how attractive she was or how she’d been on his mind ever since.
“What’s your read on her?” Doc asked.
Cage carefully considered his next words. “I think we should do the interview.”
They all frowned, except for Heff, who was looking at him far too intently for Cage’s liking.
“She’s already in town,” Cage reasoned. “She’s not likely to leave empty-handed. If we don’t talk to her, someone else will. And if that happens, chances are, she’s not going to get an accurate picture of what we’re trying to accomplish here. It could, as Smoke said, come back to bite us in the ass.”
“The best defense is a good offense,” Doc commented quietly.
“Exactly. Invite her in, where we control the circumstances and the information. Give her the facts, make a good first impression. Then, if she does decide to interview some of the locals—”
“Any aspersions they cast won’t take root as easily because we’ve already laid a solid foundation,” Doc finished, nodding.
“Also,” Heff mused, “I have to believe the locals aren’t going to be very forthcoming. They’ve got their own piles of dirty laundry to worry about.”
“All right then, let’s take a vote. Everyone on board?” Church asked. At the round of reluctant nods, Church looked directly at Cage and said, “She’ll be your responsibility.”
“What? Why me?”
“Because you’ve laid the groundwork with your knight-in-shining-armor routine,” Heff quipped. “Don’t you know? No good deed goes unpunished.”
Doc clapped him on the back. “Come on, Cage. Man up and take one for the team.”
Cage exhaled and tried to look put out, but inside, he felt a tingle of anticipation at seeing the pretty brunette again.
Chapter Seven
Bree
The Sumneyville Bed-and-Breakfast was everything Bree had expected in a small-town B & B. Located a block off the main street, it was a two-story Victorian with a wraparound porch, flower boxes, and exterior trim that brought Norman Rockwell paintings and gingerbread houses to mind.
The proprietor introduced herself as Martha McGillicuddy. She was a sturdy-looking woman, fortyish, with reddish-blonde hair and a friendly smile. Ms. McGillicuddy seemed hospitable enough, but there was no mistaking the curiosity—and wariness—burning brightly in her eyes.
Bree’s initial assessment: Martha McGillicuddy was a busybody at heart, privy to many secrets, and a valuable resource if properly cultivated.
However, when Bree saw the crystal candy dish on the credenza filled to overflowing, Bree decided Martha was also a kindred spirit. Not only were Squirrel Nut Zippers and Mary Janes in the mix, but also Root Beer Barrels, Peanut Chews, Bit-O-Honeys, and Caramel Creams. “Where did you get these? Did you special order them?”
“Oh, heavens, no! I buy them in bulk at the farmers market. Highway robbery at ninety-nine cents a pound, but it is what it is.”
Bree inhaled sharply. She paid five times that much for her stash, and that didn’t include the priority shipping. “Sounds like a place I’d like to visit. Where is that?”
“Zeigler’s, on the edge of town. You probably passed it on your way in. Can’t miss it. Looks like a big warehouse from the outside. Most of the stalls are run by Amish and Mennonites though, so they’re only open on Saturdays.”
Bree made a mental note to visit Zeigler’s on Saturday. She’d had heard of the Amish, but she’d never actually seen one. And Squirrel Nut Zippers for under a dollar a pound! For that price, she’d buy a new suitcase and fill it to take back with her.
They proceeded into the quaint kitchen, painted in buttercup yellow with lacy white curtains and polished brass accents.
“Would you care for some iced tea? I just picked up some fresh this morning. It’s peach season, you know.”
Bree didn’t know, nor did she understand the correlation between iced tea and peaches, but it did sound refreshing. “I’d love some, thanks.”
Martha indicated that Bree should sit at the kitchen table. Almost immediately, a tiny black-and-brown dog with a pink bow in her hair scampered into the kitchen and made a beeline for Bree.
“Don’t mind Penny,” Martha told her. “She’s very nosy, but she’s harmless.”
“She’s cute.”
Martha beamed. “She knows it, too.”
Martha poured them each a tall glass of translucent golden-colored tea while Penny sniffed at Bree’s shoes.
Bree took a sip of tea and hummed in approval as the taste of ripe peaches exploded on her tongue. “This is delicious. I’ve never had peach tea before.”
“Obermacher’s makes the best. They’re doing peach cider whoopie pies tomorrow. I’ll pick some up.”
Whoopie pies?
Before Bree could inquire as what a whoopie was, Martha sat down and asked, “You’re from California, you said?”
Bree nodded. “Yes, I am. Just outside San Diego.”
“Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look
