Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“And like I said, I was so surprised when I saw you. Yesterday when you came downstairs and took off your scarf and hat and your sunglasses, I said to Mom after, Doesn’t he look a lot like Turi Carrera? Mom was amazed at the resemblance too. I bet if Lucien saw you, he’d be blown away.”
Funny that Lucien had not mentioned it. I was betting that maybe the similarities were superficial—maybe the same brown eyes, brown hair, tanned skin.
“Turi was really stunning, and so are you, Tracy.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you. It’s true. I wish my nose was that perfect and my eyelashes that long, and I would need implants to have cheekbones as high as yours.”
“I actually met Lucien,” I said, ignoring her comments.
“And did he say you reminded him of Turi?”
“No.”
“That’s so weird, because like I said, the first thing I thought when I saw you was how funny that Breckin found a new friend who’s the spitting image of Turi.”
“Do you have an old yearbook? I’d love to have a look.”
“We do,” she said slowly, and I could tell she was mulling over something. “I just have to figure out where they are.”
“Well, if you can.”
I hoped she could because my mind was reeling, wondering if that was what this was, the reason Breckin had been attracted to me in the first place—my resemblance to Turi Carrera.
“I’ll look tonight after everyone leaves.”
“Great.”
“So tell me, Tracy, what do you do?”
We had a nice talk. I told her all about bookkeeping, and she told me all about her party-planning business. She had event coordinators working for her, and she put on big, extravagant parties for a thousand people as well as lavish, intimate gatherings for ten. Brian had gone into the family business with his father, which was maple syrup.
“Really?”
She smiled and nodded. She walked me to the kitchen pantry and pulled a bottle of Alcott Farms maple syrup from a shelf and gave it to me. The glass bottle was heavy.
“It feels expensive.”
“Twenty bucks a pop,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at me.
“No shit.”
“We ship it all over the world.”
“Nice.”
“I’ll ship a case home for you,” she said cheerfully. “They make good gifts for people you gotta buy for but don’t really want to. Tie green and red ribbons on the top and stick them on people’s desks. They work great.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Text me your address.”
“I will.”
“Do it now,” she ordered.
“Oh, okay,” I agreed, chuckling.
We were standing there, Bethany giving me her number, me texting, when Breckin reached us.
“We’re all going to an art exhibit in town,” he said, putting his hand on the small of my back. “You guys should come with us.”
“Cord told us to stay here,” I reminded him.
“He said for us to all stay together and listen to the police,” he argued. “And since they’re coming with us, we’ll be fine.”
“Where are you going?” Lucien asked as he walked up beside me.
“To the old dairy they converted into an art gallery,” Breckin informed him. “Please come. I’d love to get a chance to talk to you.”
Lucien smiled at Breckin, who suddenly grabbed him and hugged him tight. “I missed you too, buddy.”
It was nice to see them hugging, and when Breckin saw the look on my face, he smiled the smile I had fallen in love with, the one that made his eyes glow.
“You come too,” he said gravelly, and when he touched my face and I let him, he got bolder and slid his hand to the back of my neck and dragged me close. “Say yes.”
And I did.
Once we were all piled into the car, I called Cord.
“What?”
Really, the man’s social skills were for crap. “Meet me at the old dairy that was converted into an art gallery. Everyone is going there now.”
“What did I tell you to do?”
“Yeah, but, I mean, the whole place is emptying out. There would be no one home to guard me against crazed psychopaths.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
He growled on the other end.
“Meet me.”
“Fine.”
“And don’t be mad.”
He grunted. “No promises.”
The gallery had a rustic feel to it, and it was really big. As soon as we got there, Breckin and Celia were swarmed by people. I noticed two policemen hovering close to them, which reminded me that I wasn’t at home meeting Cord out on a date. Someone was actually trying to kill me.
But no matter how I tried to stay on guard, I wasn’t scared. It seemed like ages since the bathroom incident and the intruder trying to leave me a dead rabbit. Seeing someone outside the window had been alarming at the time, but not really that scary in the bigger picture. Logically I knew that whoever had killed Tim Stanson was dangerous, but if whoever it was had really wanted to hurt me, he could have shot me right there through the glass. Everything I knew about the case was running through my head, and so I decided to remain vigilant, thus turning down the champagne flutes the waiters floated by with.