“Too predictable. What else do you have?”
“What if he’s a sex offender, just out of prison?”
Eliza raised both eyebrows meaningfully. “Now you’re talking! Then be sure to check for ankle bracelet marks when you do meet.”
“I’m serious, Eliza.” Her friend then listened as Julia explained her fruitless search for The Black Tulip and her growing doubts about Dylan.
“Let me get this straight,” Eliza said when Julia finished. “You’ve been talking to this guy for weeks, you have plans to meet in Boston, and you’re just now doing basic research?”
“I know how it sounds,” Julia admitted. “After Aaron, I should have been more careful.”
“Don’t disagree with you there,” Eliza said. “So what are you going to do?”
Julia gestured to her phone. “He keeps texting, asking if everything’s okay. I don’t know what to say.”
“The truth would be a start,” Eliza suggested. “His answer might tell you what you need to know. He might confess that he shops at Target, for instance.”
“That’s not funny. What if he just creates more elaborate lies? Aaron had an answer for everything.”
“Then your radar will go up, and you cancelthat partof the Boston meeting,” Eliza said pragmatically. “But there could be a simple explanation. Not every business has an online presence.”
“In 2025? An antique shop in a college town catering to affluent clients?” Julia shook her head.
“Well…I thought the whole point of Dylan was that he’s stuck in the 1800s,” Eliza said.
“So was Jack the Ripper,” said Julia.
“That’s more like it,” said Eliza, “Though I’d prefer my serial killers to at least send flowers.”
After Eliza left, Julia sat with her phone in hand, reading Dylan’s latest message:
Dylan: Julia, it’s been nearly 24 hours since you responded. I’m genuinely concerned. If I’ve done something to upset you, please tell me. If you need space, I understand—just let me know you’re alright.
His sincerity made this harder. Either he was genuinely concerned, or he was an exceptional manipulator. She had thought the same about Aaron, once.
Taking a deep breath, Julia began typing:
Julia: I’m sorry for going silent. I’ve been doing some thinking. When I tried to look up The Black Tulip, I couldn’t find a single thing—no website, business listings, or reviews. This made me realize how little I can verify about your life. I had a rough experience with someone who wasn’t honest about who he was, and now I’m having second thoughts.
Her finger hovered over the send button. Was she overreacting? Making accusations based on her past rather than her present? She pressed send before she could reconsider.
The response indicators appeared immediately, showing Dylan was typing. Then they disappeared. Then appeared again. Nearly five minutes passed before his message came through:
Dylan: I understand why you’re concerned. The shop’s lack of online presence was my uncle’s approach. Clients found us through word of mouth.
Julia read the message, frowning. It felt evasive.
Julia: Your uncle’s approach? Is he still involved in the business?
Another long pause.
Dylan: He passed away recently. I’m still figuring things out.
Julia: I’m sorry for your loss. How recently?
Dylan: Few months ago.
Julia waited for more details, but none came.
