I trudged through the mud, back over to the mound, and shoved the tire iron into the frozen ground as far as it would go, which turned out not to be very far at all. My tire iron marker, though slightly askance, looked like a miniature flagpole with no flag. If you didn’t know to look for it though, it would blend into the landscape. And that was exactly what I wanted.
With my travails behind me, I headed back over to the populated side of the island. I returned the shovel to the cottage, and then, muddy and tired, drove back down to the dock. I parked the Navigator in the same spot as before and slid the key back under the mat.
Everything looked more or less the same as it had prior. Well, okay, maybe there was a little more mud on the Navigator…or more like a lot. I sighed. What could I do about it? Adam would know I’d been on the island regardless. After all, the note he’d left was no longer taped to the steering wheel; it now resided in the front pocket of my jacket.
Adam. This ploy to stay away from him grew more difficult with every passing day. Would he wonder why I hadn’t stayed? Would he question why I’d even come back? If he did ever ask, I planned to say I’d forgotten a few articles of clothing. Whether he’d believe me—or detect another lie—was anyone’s guess.
It burned me that I’d been thwarted in my effort to dig up the lockbox. Even if the weather remained mild—and there was no guarantee it would since we were only partway through winter—it would still take a while for the ground to thaw. I couldn’t help but feel a little hopeless. What did I have so far? A faux key, with the number eleven painted on it, given to me by a mentally unstable individual who obviously enjoyed playing elaborate, drawn-out games. What had Ami sealed in the lockbox? Did the fake key mean I was supposed to search for a real key to open the box? That didn’t seem right. Ami hadn’t mentioned the box, and she’d have no way of knowing J.T. would have told me about it.
So, no, I sensed the wooden key Ami had given me was a clue related to something else entirely. But exactly what was the million-dollar question.
I needed to go back to Willow Point so I could dig more information out of Ami. I wished I could go right now, but I couldn’t. Visiting hours didn’t resume until Monday. That left me with just tomorrow to fill with something to keep my thoughts occupied and make the wait go faster. As I boarded the ferry, I had a brainstorm…I knew just how to fill my spare time tomorrow. I’d invite my new neighbor, Stowe, for dinner as a thank-you for helping me get my car started. Perfect, it would be better than grabbing a cup of coffee, and I had a feeling Stowe would think so, too.
I called Stowe the next morning, bright and early. He accepted the invitation, rather enthusiastically, as I expected.
So I spent Sunday afternoon boiling lasagna noodles, simmering tomato sauce, and shredding mozzarella. When Stowe arrived at five he was bearing gifts, a bottle of red wine and a modest bouquet of yellow rose buds. I let him in and we conversed for a moment or two before he handed me the wine.
I thanked him, but when he offered the bouquet, I couldn’t help but eye the flowers warily. “Um, thank you?”
“Maddy, they’re just flowers,” Stowe said when I hesitated to accept them.
“It’s just…” I struggled not to read too much into it. But just in case, I wanted to make sure things were clear between us. “Friends, remember?” I said with a wave of my hand in the space between us.
“Yellow,” Stowe countered, gesturing to the bouquet, “the color of friendship.”
He had me there, so I took the bouquet, smiled, and said, “Touché.”
His feelings didn’t appear to be hurt, so I motioned for my guest to follow me into the kitchen. “No more car troubles?” Stowe asked.
I glanced back at him. “None, thanks to you.”
When we reached the kitchen, he drew in a deep breath. “It smells great in here.”
I placed the bouquet on the counter and began to fill a vase with water at the sink. “That would be the lasagna.” I glanced back at him. “I hope you like Italian.”
“Actually, lasagna is one of my favorite dishes.”
I had turned back to the sink, and felt Stowe come closer. When he reached me, I edged away slightly. Stowe picked up the bouquet and slid in into the water-filled vase.
“Relax, Maddy,” he said quietly, while keeping his eyes on his task. “If I’d known a few flowers would make you this uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have brought them.”
I felt bad. I was making my guest—a guy who’d helped me yesterday morning and whose only crime today was accepting my dinner invitation and giving me some wine and pretty flowers—feel uncomfortable, and that wasn’t right.
“It’s not the flowers,” I said, sighing. “I mean, not really. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You don’t have to apologize—”
I placed my hand on his arm to stop him from saying more. “No, really I do. Things are just…weird for me right now, but…” My hand was still on his arm, and I quickly moved it. “I don’t want to mislead you, Stowe. That’s all. I’m still in love with someone.”
“Adam Ward?”
I stepped back. “How’d you know?”
“Maddy, I watch TV, you know. The news, the big Harbour Falls Mystery… Finally solved and all that. It’s no secret you and Adam are together.”
Were together, I thought dismally, past tense.
I recalled the first night I’d met Stowe and how he’d not seemed surprised to learn
