Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
“Then this is it,” Conrad said, ignoring the realtor. His amber eyes hooded as his warm breath fanned her face. “The house I’m buying.”
The air thickened, her inhalations instantly quickening. Maybe her hope had given her courage. Or maybe seeing him embrace the future spurred her to embrace hers. Feeling brave, she rasped, “Do you want to date me again, Conrad?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Sweetheart, I never wanted to stop.”
“Oh, dang.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Buddy slap his knee. “Did I just repair a broken relationship?”
Jane ignored him, too caught up in Conrad to care about anything else. “You want to date me even though I don’t fit your qualifications?” Though, granted, she was a little bit amazing. The kind of person she wanted as a friend. Someone with her priorities straight. Cats, hats and family. Not necessarily in that order…not all the time. And, honestly, she was good at being modest. Great, even. And she could whip up a feast just because, using only the ingredients she had on hand.
Could she turn his heartache and anguish into tools?
His smile grew. “Jane, you are the qualifications.”
Sniffling sounds came from Buddy. “That is beautiful.”
Joy stirred deep in her chest, as if awakening from a longtime slumber. “You aren’t over me?” she asked, running her free palm up Conrad’s chest to toy with the ends of his hair.
He released her hand, but only to cup her jawline. “Not in the slightest.” His thumbs caressed the rise of her cheeks. “And you aren’t over me.” A statement, not a question.
“No,” she admitted. “Conrad Ryan, will you go on a date with me?”
“Jane Ladling, I will go on all the dates with you.”
Buddy dabbed at his eyes.
Jane’s internal fluttering worsened. “Rolex and Cheddar are going to be over the moon.” As she peered up at her inspector detective special agent, excited and nervous, an idea blossomed inside her mind like the most beautiful rose, if she did say so herself. She’d put him through a lot, and even if whatever they started tomorrow lasted only a short time, he deserved a grand gesture. “Tomorrow night. Seven p.m. The cottage, just the two of us. Wear your black suit with a black tie. Bring flowers.”
Conrad’s slow smile left her heart fluttering. “It’s a date.”
Jane split from Conrad as soon as they left the house and headed for the library. She forced the date to the back of her mind as she parked in the lot. She had business to attend. Wait. Was that Tiffany Hotchkins’s bright red sports car?
Well, well, well. The widow had indeed returned. Somewhere inside, the prickly brunette strolled along the aisles of the noble building.
To postpone this expedition or not?
Not. Jane wore her Big Girl badge today. She’d asked a man on a date, and she was soon to solve the Case of the Great Grand Cheater and His Missing Heart of Gold. Face Tiffany? No problem.
Head high, Jane strode across the tree-lined sidewalk. Large plastic bulbs already hung from the limbs. The library was located next door to the Gold Rush Museum, a former county courthouse constructed to be imposing. Meanwhile, the library’s homestyle curb appeal invited visitors inside.
She slipped through the doors, passing beneath the banner proclaiming: Books, Stories and Adventures, oh my!
On her way to the map case, Jane passed by the nonfiction section dedicated to ciphers and code breaking and drew up short. Hey! She’d found Tiffany already. The widow stood alongside her best friend, the infamous Abigail Waynes-Kirkland. Their dark heads were bent over a book. Both wore their hair in tight top buns and sported heavy coats because the library always attempted to freeze patrons out, even in winter.
They were interested in codes and code breaking huh? Suspicions flared in an instant. They’d amped up their search for gold, hadn’t they? She swallowed a groan. Maybe becoming friends was a pipe dream. Hoping not to be noticed, Jane inched closer to catch as much of their conversation as possible. Probably not a technique listed in Conrad Ryan’s investigative methods, but for sure it belonged in the procedures and practices manual she was now considering writing.
“Mule easel could only be a cipher,” Tiffany muttered. “It’s too weird.”
So. Benjamin’s phrases must have been in his letters to Elise. And yet, this pair hadn’t yet figured out the anagram angle. Several steps behind me. The coil of tension between her shoulder blades eased.
“Sunken ice naps could mean diamonds are buried in her cemetery. We should do some digging. I still have my trusty shovel,” Abigail said, and they both snickered.
Jane curled her hands into fists. Okay, done listening. Time to start promising. Stalking forward, she announced, “If I catch you attempting to unearth a grave at the Garden, I will make sure you’re eating Christmas dinner in jail!”