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I refocused my thoughts, said, “I really like Hailey. Which is why I don’t like the idea that she had the best opportunity of drugging me. She even mentioned guarding my drink for me.”
“Did she?” Rory considered. “She had opportunity. So did Overhiser. He stayed at your table for a couple of minutes after you left.”
“I just can’t see what the motive for either of them would be.”
“As previously discussed, motive is subjective.”
“Was Davenport around my drink at any time?”
Rory seemed to look inward at the evening’s replay. “Not while I was watching. But I feel like I spent half the evening trying to get through on the pay phone.”
Cheers and laughter rose from the opposite side of the room, where the Weber contingent had commandeered a group of smaller tables and pushed them into one long barricade.
We eyed them for a moment, and I said, “I think I’m sleeping in my car tonight. I’ll drive into the village and park in the church lot. No way am I spending another night in that cabin.”
Rory said, “I have a better idea. Why don’t you stay with me in my hotel?”
“That’s very generous, but…” But nothing. I absolutely wanted to spend the night with Rory. Assuming we were talking about the same thing. Even if we weren’t, I preferred sharing a platonic bed with Rory to trying to sleep in my rental car in sixteen-degree temperatures.
“We’re either spending the night at my hotel, or I’m going to be parked beside you behind that church. I think we’d both be more comfortable in my hotel.”
He was smiling that irresistible smile, and I thought,why not? I liked him, he liked me, and if this was all we were going to have, so be it. Whatever it was, I wanted it.
I wantedhim.
And I was pretty sure he wanted me.
It took no time at all to throw my things in my suitcase. I carried my bag to my car, threw it in the trunk, and followed the red taillights of Rory’s rental car down the dark, wet highway to Hastings Corner and the Gideon House.
The charming 1850 Greek Revival building was set in the center of the village green, surrounded by landscaped gardens, including a lily pond and fountain. Dollops of snow blanketed the shrubs and hedges and provided scanty covering for the marble nymph balancing a glowing pink orb beside the frozen pond. The scene looked like an old-fashioned Christmas card or a painting by Thomas Kincaid.
The vintage charm continued inside. The parlor, empty of any guests but ourselves, featured old-fashioned wallpaper, window seats with cushions embroidered with homey sayings likeHome is where the heart is, and oval-framed silhouette portraits.
“This isnice.” I carried my bags, following Rory up the elegant staircase to the second story.
Rory’s “Mm” sounded peculiarly unenthusiastic.
“No?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spent a night here yet. It’s hellishly expensive, that’s for sure. But it was the only thing I could get by the time I tried to book a place to stay.”
“Boss not happy?”
“There’s only one thing that makes my boss happy, and he’s spending the weekend with him right now.”
I smiled to myself. I was still smiling when Rory unlocked and opened his room door, offering a glimpse of a large, airy space complete with fireplace and a sleigh bed big enough to accommodate us, the driver of the sleigh, and a horse or two.
From the lace-edged draperies to the ornate ceiling medallions, everything was the epitome of cozy perfection.
“Just throw your stuff anywhere,” Rory instructed. “Do you want to have dinner? If we can find a place still open?”
“I could eat something.”
We ended up back at Kathy’s Korner. In the same booth, in fact.
It was a lot quieter than it had been that morning, and the diners seemed to be locals.
I had the bruschetta haddock. Rory ordered the Tuscan salmon. We both drank coffee.
