True believer - Nicholas Sparks [32]
Jeremy leaned back in his chair, thinking. Three completely different versions of essentially the same legend. He wondered what that meant.
Interestingly, the writer of the book—A. J. Morrison—had added an italicized postscript stating that the Cedar Creek Cemetery had actually begun to sink. According to surveys, the cemetery grounds had sunk by nearly twenty inches; the author offered no explanation.
Jeremy checked the date of publication. The book had been written in 1954, and by the way the cemetery looked now, he figured it had sunk at least another three feet since then. He made a note to see if he could find surveys from that period, as well as any done more recently.
Still, as he absorbed the information, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder from time to time on the off-chance that Lexie had returned.
Across town, on the fairway of the fourteenth tee and with his cell phone sandwiched against his ear, the mayor snapped to attention as he listened to the caller though the hissing static. Reception was bad in this part of the county, and the mayor wondered if holding his five-iron above his head would help him make sense of what was being said.
“He was at Herbs? Today at lunch? Did you say Primetime Live?”
He nodded, pretending not to notice that his golf buddy, who was in turn pretending to see where his most recent shot had landed, had just kicked the ball from behind a tree into a better position.
“Found it!” his buddy yelled, and began setting up for the shot.
The mayor’s buddy did things like that all the time, which frankly didn’t bother the mayor all that much, since he’d just done the same thing. Maintaining his three handicap would have otherwise been impossible.
Meanwhile, as the caller was finishing up, his buddy launched his shot into the trees again.
“Damnation!” he shouted. The mayor ignored him.
“Well, this is definitely interesting,” the mayor said, his mind whirring with possibilities, “and I’m very glad you called. You take care, now. Bye.”
He flipped the phone closed, just as his buddy was approaching.
“I hope I get a good lie with that one.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” the mayor said, pondering the sudden development in town. “I’m sure it’ll end up being right where you want it.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Fate,” he announced. “And if we play this right, just maybe our salvation.”
Two hours later, just as the sun was dropping below the treetops and shadows began to stretch through the window, Lexie poked her head into the rare-book room.
“How’d it go?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Jeremy smiled. Pushing back from the desk, he ran his hand through his hair. “Good,” he said. “I learned quite a bit.”
“Do you have the magic answer yet?”
“No, but I’m getting closer. I can feel it.”
She moved into the room. “I’m glad. But as I said earlier, I usually lock up here about five o’clock so I can handle the after-work crowd when they come in.”
He stood from the desk. “No problem. I’m getting a little tired, anyway. It’s been a long day.”
“You’ll be in tomorrow morning, right?”
“I was planning on it. Why?”
“Well, normally, I put everything back on the shelves daily.”
“Would it be possible to just keep the stack the way it is, for now? I’m sure I’ll go through most of the books again.”
She thought for a moment. “I suppose that’s okay. But I do have to warn you that if you don’t show up first thing, I’ll think I misjudged you.”
He nodded, looking solemn. “I promise I won’t stand you up. I’m not that kind of guy.”
She rolled her eyes, thinking, Oh, brother. He was persistent, though. She had to give him that. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Mr.