“I figured he told you,” he said quietly.
“You should have told me, not Adam,” I countered. “I felt like a fool. Not knowing my next-door neighbor is Chelsea’s brother. You had a bunch of opportunities to say something, maybe clue me in.”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, and a lock of blond hair fell across his forehead, making him look boyishly innocent. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. And again, I am sorry. I planned on mentioning it at some point. Your boyfriend just beat me to it.”
To his credit, Stowe really did appear sincere. Not to mention, I hadn’t forgotten that Adam and I had decided it’d be best if I not make a big deal out of the fact that Chelsea’s brother had withheld his real identity from me. It was more likely for Stowe Hannigan to divulge why he was hanging around Harbour Falls if he thought of me as a friend.
So I smiled, stepped forward, and said, “I was never really mad, Stowe, just caught off guard.”
“I’m sorry,” he reiterated. “I hope we can still be friends.”
I stepped closer to the door, and he moved aside for me to unlock it. “Of course,” I replied.
Stowe started to go, and I said good-bye. But as I was about to go into the house, I could tell Stowe had stopped halfway down the front steps. “Maddy…” he trailed off.
Leaving the key in the door, I turned to face him. The porch light was on, but his face was hidden in the shadows.
In a gravely serious voice, he said, “It’s important for you to remember that no matter how things look—or may look in time—I am not the bad guy.”
I gave him a curious look, and he added, “Just keep that in mind.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? I wondered if Stowe suspected Adam and I were trying to find out why he was really here. What in the world would we find?
I tried to put on an impassive mask. “Sure, whatever you say,” I said, smiling.
But he hadn’t stuck around long enough to hear my response. Stowe was already down the steps and heading to his house next door.
Not the bad guy. Was there a bad guy? Who would that be? I had no clue. But I was certain of one thing: Stowe Hannigan might be here in Harbour Falls for work, but I suspected—more than ever before—that this “work” had nothing to do with something as mundane as small-town studies.
Once I was in the house, I heated up some soup and called Adam. I recounted my strange encounter with my next-door neighbor. “Does that make any sense to you,” I asked.
Adam exhaled loudly, clearly frustrated. “It doesn’t, but it was certainly an odd thing to say.”
“Were you able to find out anything today about why he’s here? What he is really up to?”
“Nothing yet, but I suspect it will take some time. I’m learning there’s not a lot of readily available information about Stowe Hannigan. It seems the man leads a very under-the-radar life down in Florida.”
“Hmm…” I mused. “That’s strange.”
“It is,” Adam agreed. “But I’ll keep looking into it. Don’t worry, I’ll find out what he’s up to.”
I wasn’t too worried; Adam always got his answers. And I was sure he—we—would this time as well.
When I turned my attention back to the call, I realized Adam was asking why I hadn’t stopped in the office earlier. I fumbled for a response since I could hardly tell him I’d been at Willow Point. Or, God forbid, Fowler’s Motel.
“Uh, I got caught up with writing,” I fibbed, grimacing at yet another untruth. “I did swing by after five, but you had already left.” That part, at least, was true.
I supposed Adam was considering my response; he was quiet for a long moment. But I thankfully didn’t sense any suspicion when he continued, “Hmm, I have some late meetings tomorrow and Wednesday, but how about if we plan for dinner on Thursday?”
That sounded wonderful, so I readily agreed. “Do you want to meet here, or should I come down to the office?”
“Head down to the office around five; we’ll just leave from there.”
With everything set, we wrapped things up. Adam apparently believed my story about being tied up with writing. I hated having to be dishonest, but I hoped, in the long run, it would prove to have been the right thing to do.
It still made me feel bad to lie when Adam seemed to be sticking to his word. At no time today had I gotten the impression of being followed. He was staying true to his promise not to interfere. Adam trusted me, at least for the next two weeks. Regardless, I was going to make sure that, this time, he didn’t regret it.
***
Over the next three days, I worked on my novel. When my agent, Katie, called on Thursday afternoon to check on my progress, I was delighted to tell her the story was more than halfway to completion. She wanted to go over what I’d written up to this point, so I happily e-mailed her a first draft.
It was close to four, so I showered and dressed, choosing a black pencil skirt and a silky green blouse. I wasn’t sure where we were going for dinner, but I figured Adam would have on a suit, and I wanted to match. The evening was mild, particularly for late January. Truly, it felt more like late March. With no ice, no snow, no slick surfaces to contend with, I opted for a nice pair of black heels to complete my ensemble.
The days were growing a little longer, and there was still plenty of light as I drove into town. Upon reaching the brick storefront where Adam leased his office space, I checked the time. Fifteen minutes early. I wasn’t sure if Adam would still be in meetings, or just
