My mother pointed to the small plate of peanuts on the coffee table between us. “Have some.”

  Dylan scooped up a handful of nuts. Tom returned with our drinks, and we all lifted our glasses in a toast to everyone’s good health.

  “Tom, tell us about the movie,” I said. “It’s so exciting that you’ll be starring in a movie that’s being shot right here in Clover Ridge.”

  Tom’s eyes lit up. “I’m not the star, by any means, but I’ve got a fairly large secondary role. The film’s a romantic comedy called I Love You, I Do. The plot is similar to Noël Coward’s Private Lives. An older couple that divorced a few years earlier find themselves staying in the same hotel with the people they’re currently engaged to—considerably younger, in both cases. They end up spending time together and realize they’re still in love.”

  “And the two young rejected fiancés end up together,” my mother added, not looking pleased. “The ending’s very different from the Coward play.”

  Tom sighed. “Of course it is, Brianna. But it’s easier to explain the similarities.” He turned back to Dylan and me. “Anyway, I play the leading lady’s fiancé.”

  My mother grimaced. “And the actress who Tom ends up with joined the cast two days ago. Tom, I hope she learns her lines and doesn’t make you look bad.”

  Tom exhaled a huff of exasperation.

  “Why was she hired so late?” I asked. “You knew months ago you were in this movie.”

  “Because the actress originally cast in the role is drying out in a rehab center.” Tom turned to my mother. “Ilana will be great. You needn’t be concerned about her learning her lines. She’s a terrific actor.”

  “As long as she remembers she’s your love interest in the movie and not in real life,” my mother muttered.

  What’s going on here? I wondered as Tom strode off, no doubt to refill his drink.

  “Anyway, I Love You takes place in a small country village,” my mother went on, as if nothing had happened. “As soon as Tom got the part and I read the script, I realized that Clover Ridge would be the perfect setting—historic buildings around the Green, the Long Island Sound with its restaurants and marinas. Mountains in the distance. I made a few calls to find out if we could film the movie here.”

  Tom rejoined us in time to hear her latest comment. He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Brianna, Dirk had already decided to film in Clover Ridge.”

  My mother sniffed. “Maybe. At any rate, he appreciated my input.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “I believe his actual words were, ‘We all appreciate your care and interest in the project.’”

  Why are Tom and my mother squabbling? Is she really worried about this actress?

  To fill the dead silence, I asked, “Who’s Dirk?” I peered into my glass, surprised to discover that I’d finished off my wine.

  “Dirk Franklin is the director,” Tom said. “His cousin, Liane Walters, lives here in Clover Ridge. He’d spent some time here years ago and figured it would be the perfect place to shoot this movie.”

  “I know Liane!” I said. “She’s on the library board of trustees with Uncle Bosco.”

  When neither my mother nor Tom responded, I exchanged glances with Dylan. He shrugged and gestured to the front door.

  “Shall we move on to the restaurant?” I suggested.

  My mother exhaled a deep sigh. “You know, all this traveling and dealing with repairs has wiped me out. I’m afraid I’ll have to beg off for tonight. Tom and I will join you for dinner another time.”

  I glanced at Tom, but he’d hurried off to get our jackets.

  “Of course.” I bussed my mother’s cheek. “Talk to you soon.”

  Chapter Four

  “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise,” Dylan said as we drove to the restaurant.

  “Maybe they’re both irritable,” I said. “After all, they just flew in from California, had a problem with their rental car, then spent the day dealing with repairs. Moving to a new home, even when it’s temporary, can be very stressful.”

  “I hope you’re right, babe, but your mother comes on like a helicopter wife, if there is such a thing. She sure didn’t like that Ilana being in the movie and playing opposite Tom.”

  I reached for my cell phone. “I’m going to look her up.”

  It took less than three minutes to pull up a photo of a gorgeous honey blonde with a drop-dead figure and a smile that could have been an advertisement for a toothpaste ad. I held it up for Dylan to see.

  “She’s quite a looker.”

  “I’m checking her out on Wikipedia. Ilana Reingold,” I mumbled. “Born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. In the following TV and films … Oh!”

  “What is it?” Dylan asked.

  “Nine years ago, she was engaged to Thomas Farrell, a trader on Wall Street. The wedding was called off a week before the event. ‘I love Tommy and I always will, but I need to be free to pursue my career.’” I stared at Dylan. “She and Tom were engaged, and now they end up as a couple in a movie?”

  “No wonder your mom’s upset.”

  “I feel bad for her. My mother’s pretentious and manipulative, but she’s had a hard time of it, being married to my father. She raised Jordan and me under difficult circumstances. I was happy when she met Tom. I spent time with them just before their wedding. It was obvious that he adored my mother and wasn’t at all bothered by the difference in their ages. Naïve me—I thought they’d live happily ever after.”

  Bernie’s Bistro was a popular place with a terrific view of the Long Island Sound and was a favorite with tourists during the summer months. We were lucky to have gotten a reservation so late, even luckier when our hostess led us to a table flanking one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the water.

  We both ordered a salad and a fish entrée. A young man stopped at our table to place warm rolls on our bread plates along with a small dish of softened butter.

  I was taking my first bite when Dylan said, “Looks like I’ll be flying to Texas Monday morning.”

  I stared at him. “I thought you were pretty much done with traveling.”

  “Mostly, yes, but I’m still handling some big cases involving art and jewelry heists—until Mac and I find someone we can train to take my place.”

  “Oh,” was all I said, instead of shouting Don’t go! like I wanted to.

  “Sorry, babe. A wealthy art collector’s mansion was burgled last night while he and his wife were out of the country. Three of his most expensive paintings were taken, frames and all, as well as some ancient Chinese artifacts. He called Mac and asked that I take over the case.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Difficult to say. They had a top security system in place, so either the thieves had someone on the inside working with them or they’re a really clever bunch. I’ve got a few leads regarding similar thefts in the recent past. But I may have to fly to Europe. Lately, that’s where these items end up being sold.”

  “Europe,” I murmured.

  Dylan clasped my hand in his. “I told Mac ten days is my limit, but I hope to be back home before then. I hate leaving you, and it’s not good for business to abandon the two cases I’m working on here. When I get back, I’ll start seriously looking for someone to train.”

  Our salads arrived, and Dylan began to eat with gusto. He was down to the last bite when he realized I hadn’t touched my food since he’d sprung his news.

  “I’m sorry about this, Carrie, really I am, but there’s nothing I can do to avoid this trip. Tomorrow’s Sunday and you’re not working. Why don’t we go someplace special—somewhere we’ve been thinking of visiting but never managed to get to?”

  “All right.” I thought a minute. “I wouldn’t mind visiting the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachusetts.”

  Dylan smiled. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll start out early, have breakfast on the road, and take the scenic route.”

  I reached across the table to kiss him. “Thanks. I don’t mean to be a pill, but I didn’t expect you to be leaving so soon. I’m going to miss you.”

  He pursed his lips. “Believe me, I’ll miss you even more.”

  * * *

  Sunday turned out to be a warm, sunny day—perfect weather for our outing. We left early, stopped for a breakfast of waffles on the way, and arrived at the museum just after noon. We wandered through the exhibits, then had lunch in town before starting back on our three-hour trip home. It was close to seven o’clock when Dylan dropped me off at the cottage.

  “I’d come in, but I still have to pack. The car service is picking me up at six thirty.”

  I hugged him tight. “Don’t forget me,” I whispered in his ear.

  Dylan chuckled. “As if I could.”

  Inside, I scooped up Smoky Joe in my arms. “Well, kiddo, looks like we’re going to be on our own for a while.”

  My furry feline squirmed free and ran to the kitchen, where he demanded his dinner. I made a conscious effort not to sink into a pity party and told myself I would keep busy instead. Very busy. That way I wouldn’t have time to sulk and be morose and miss Dylan while he was chasing after thieves.

  I went into my guest bedroom that I used as an office and turned on my computer. On the library’s Facebook page, I posted the news about Daphne’s program and asked patrons to text, message, or email me if they were interested in attending. That done, I checked my personal Facebook page. I was reading my emails when Angela called to say hi.

  “Dylan and I just got back. We went to the Clark Art Institute.”

  “Sounds like you guys had a fun day—driving all the way to Williamstown.”

  “It was a fun day, only Dylan’s flying off tomorrow morning on a case. Won’t be back for at least a week. Maybe ten days.”

  “Oh no! Poor you. I hope you won’t get into trouble while he’s away.”

  “Why would I get into trouble?” I asked, annoyed.

  Angela laughed. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Only that you always seem to find adventures.”

  “Murder is what you really mean.”

  “Okay, murder. But there haven’t been any of those lately, thank goodness.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you—I’ve arranged to have a psychic give a talk on the various kinds of psychic abilities. She’s filling in for a canceled program a week from Tuesday night. I just posted about it on the library Facebook page.”

  “Sounds like a winner. Just be prepared for some flack.”

  “Really?” I said, surprised.

  “Hopefully, you’ll only hear from patrons who want to attend the program. But a few might object, claiming it’s the work of the devil.”

  “I never realized that having Daphne might be a problem. Maybe I should have run it past Sally.”

  “Are you kidding? A year ago Sally, Marion, and I went to a psychic for a reading. Count me in when your Daphne comes. I hope she’ll give some readings.”

  “She said she’d be happy to.”

  When I returned to the library’s page, I was delighted to see that several people had written to say they wanted to attend the program.

  One woman had posted that she didn’t think having a psychic speak at the library was appropriate. Two people had responded, telling her she didn’t have to go to the program if she objected but that they planned to attend.

  Yay! I silently cheered them on and added their names to my growing list.

  Dylan called to say good-night. “Now don’t go looking for adventures while I’m gone.”

  I laughed. “Funny, that’s what Angela said. You’d think I had nothing to do but search out and solve a few murders.”

  “Sometimes it looks that way. Love you. I’ll call you from the airport.”

  * * *

  Monday morning, I arrived at the library in good spirits. Nineteen people had texted, emailed, or messaged me to say they’d be coming to Daphne’s program. I sent them all notices that they were registered. Sally stopped by my office to fill me in on a few minor items.

  “I have a psychic on board as a replacement program a week from Tuesday night. I have nineteen coming so far. And Angela.”

  “Count me in if there’s room.”

  “We’ll be in the large meeting room, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Limit it to thirty-five, especially if she wants to do some quick readings,” Sally advised. “If she’s entertaining, we can always invite her to return.”

  When she left, I checked the Facebook page again and was pleasantly surprised to see we’d already reached the limit Sally had set. I posted that the psychic program was now full. Trish, my other part-time assistant, arrived, and we discussed which movies we intended to show during the summer months, as they had to be listed in the next newsletter. We were always planning ahead. Then my library phone rang. It was my great-uncle.

  “Hi, Uncle Bosco. How are you and Aunt Harriet?”

  “Fine. Fine. And you? Busy with your boyfriend, I imagine.”

  “Absolutely, when we’re not both working. Dylan flew to Texas this morning. He has a big case.”

  “In that case, come to dinner tonight. No, wait, no can do. I have a seven-thirty meeting tonight at Haven House. Then a library board meeting tomorrow night. Wednesday or Thursday evening would work, though.”

  “I’m working late Wednesday. Thursday’s good, if you’re sure it’s okay with Aunt Harriet.”

  “Yep. Your aunt said to invite you whatever night is good for you.”

  I laughed. “Thanks. How are things coming along at Haven House?”

  “Busy, busy. We’re working hard to open our doors to the homeless May first. We were lucky to hire two retired social workers who are willing to work part-time for small salaries. And a retired drug counselor offered to supervise two days a week. Some local people have been dropping off furniture. We’ll take the library’s offerings as soon as you can send them over.”

  “I’ll collect a selection of books, magazines, movies, and CDs and ask Max to deliver it later this week.”

  “Much appreciated,” said Uncle Bosco.

  “Are you kidding? I’m glad you agreed to take over the running of Haven House so our local homeless population will have a place to go during the day.”

  “I wasn’t going to let a good project like that fail just because it was started by a bunch of thieves.”

  We both laughed. I’d helped expose the crooks who had set up Haven House as a cover for their illegal gains, and was grateful that my uncle had offered to take over the reins.

  “See you Thursday evening, then,” Uncle Bosco said. “Come over when you finish work.”

  At noon, Angela and I walked over to the Cozy Corner Café. The lunch crowd was out in full force, but we managed to snag a table in the rear corner.

  “You never told me how dinner with your mother and Tom went Saturday night,” Angela said.

  “We didn’t have dinner with them after all.”

  “Oh no! Did the two of you get into an argument?”

  I frowned. “No. My mother invited us over for drinks. Everything she said pissed Tom off. The worst of it is, this gorgeous actress Tom used to be engaged to just joined the cast. She plays opposite him the second half of the film. My mother begged off dinner. Said we’d get together another time.”

  “Your poor mom! I don’t blame her.”

  “And guess what? It turns out the film’s director is related to Liane Walters.”

  “Ah!” Angela said. “No wonder our board member was so eager to join forces with the Chamber of Commerce to host a luncheon for the movie’s cast and crew.” She eyed me meaningfully. “Along with certain important people in our community.”

  I laughed. “I only received an invitation because my mother’s husband is in the movie. You’ll get a chance to meet Tom and the rest of the cast and crew at the meet-and-greet party on the Green.”

  Angela’s face took on an awestruck expression. “Charlie Stanton will be there. I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

  “Who’s Charlie Stanton?” I asked.

  Angela shot me a look of disbelief. “Only the actor who’s playing the lead in the movie.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Didn’t you ever watch Cops and Killers?”

  I shook my head.

  “Charlie played the police captain. He must be in his fifties now, but he’s still gorgeous! In my opinion, he’s in the same league as Tom Selleck. Those dreamy bedroom eyes.”

  I stared at Angela. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? I never knew you were such a fangirl.”

  Angela shrugged. “You have to admit, it’s thrilling to have a movie being filmed here in Clover Ridge. We get to meet all these famous actors. You should be excited that your stepfather is in it.”

  I scoffed. “I think it’s great, but Tom is not my stepfather.”

  * * *

  Back in the library, I found Smoky Joe waiting for me outside my office.

  Sally stopped by a minute later. “Carrie, a patron told me that Smoky Joe tried to leave the building when she was going out to her car.”

  “Thanks, Sally. It seems the good weather is calling to him.”

  “I wonder if maybe you shouldn’t leave him home for a few days.”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

  I’d fed my furry feline friend and settled down in front of my computer when I heard a knock at my door. Daphne entered.

  “Hi, Carrie. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She held out a paper. “I came to bring you this. I figured you’d want it right away, since the program is next week.”

  I took it from her. “Thanks, Daphne.” I glanced at the completed form. “Looks good. I meant to call you. Your program has drawn a large number of interested patrons. It’s a go.”

  “Really?” She beamed at me. “That was fast.”

  “I notified everyone via our Facebook page. We have to limit the number of people to thirty-five.” I smiled at her. “But if it’s a success, there’s no reason why you can’t come back another time.”