True believer - Nicholas Sparks [54]
“Oh, so we’re back to ‘Mr. Marsh’ now?”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” She tucked a blowing strand of hair behind her ear. “But you missed the fact that you don’t have to have groupies to . . . get around. All you need is to hang out in the right kind of places and pour on the charm.”
“And you think I’m charming?”
“I would say some women would find you charming.”
“But not you.”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, and right now you’re doing your best to change the subject. Which probably means that I’m right but that you don’t want to admit it.”
He stared at her admiringly. “You’re very clever, Ms. Darnell.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard that.”
“And charming,” he added for good measure.
She smiled at him, then glanced away. She looked down the boardwalk, then across the street toward the town, then up at the sky before she sighed. She wasn’t going to respond to his flattery, she decided. Nonetheless, she felt herself blushing.
As if reading her mind, Jeremy changed the subject. “So this weekend,” he started. “What’s it like?”
“Won’t you be here?” she asked.
“Probably. For part of it, anyway. But I was just curious how you felt about it.”
“Aside from making a lot of people’s lives crazy for a few days?” she asked. “It’s . . . needed at this time of year. You go through Thanksgiving and Christmas in a rush, and then nothing is on the schedule until spring. And meanwhile, it’s cold and gray and rainy . . . so years ago, the town council decided to do the Historic Homes Tour. And ever since then, they’ve just added more festivities to it in the hope of making for a special weekend. This year it’s the cemetery, last year the parade, the year before that, they added a Friday night barn dance. Now it’s becoming part of the tradition of the town, so most of the folks who live here look forward to it.” She glanced at him. “As small-town forgettable as it sounds, it’s actually sort of fun.”
Watching her, Jeremy raised his eyebrows, remembering the barn dance from the brochure. “They have a dance?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
She nodded. “On Friday night. In Meyer’s tobacco barn downtown. It’s quite the shindig, with a live band and everything. It’s the only night of the year that the Lookilu Tavern is pretty much empty.”
“Well, if I happen to go, maybe you’ll dance with me.”
She smiled before finally eyeing him with an almost seductive look. “I’ll tell you what. If you solve the mystery by then, I’ll dance with you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she said. “But our deal is that you have to solve the mystery first.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I can’t wait. And when it comes to the Lindy or the fox-trot . . .” He shook his head, drawing a long breath. “Well, all I can say is that I hope you can keep up.”
She laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
Crossing her arms, Lexie watched the sun trying and failing to break through the gloom. “Tonight,” she said.
He frowned. “Tonight?”
“You’ll see the lights tonight. If you go to the cemetery.”
“How do you know?”
“The fog is coming in.”
He followed her gaze. “How can you tell? It doesn’t seem any different to me.”
“Look across the river behind me,” she said. “The tops of the smokestacks on the paper mill are already hidden by clouds.”
“Yeah, sure . . . ,” he said, trailing off.
“Turn around and look. You’ll see.”
He looked over his shoulder and back, then looked once more, studying the outlines of the paper mill. “You’re right,” he said.
“Of course, I am.”
“I guess you peeked when I wasn’t looking, huh?”
“No,” she said. “I just knew.”
“Ah,” he said. “One of those pesky mysteries again?”
She pushed herself from the railing. “If that’s what you want to call it,” she said. “But c’mon. It’s getting a little late, and I have to get back to the library. I have to read to the children in fifteen minutes.”
As they made their way back to the car, Jeremy noticed that the top of Riker’s Hill had become hidden as well. He smiled, thinking, So that’s how she did it. See it over there, figure it must be happening across the river,