A Wish For Love (Gates-Cameron 2)

Mae chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t. But then, you’ve always been one to tackle problems head-on, Bailey. You got that from me, I guess.”

Bailey winced, thinking of how cowardly she’d been about even acknowledging her own problems recently, much less doing anything to solve them. “Er, Aunt Mae—”

Her aunt’s attention had already moved on to something else. “I need to run into town this afternoon to have my blood-pressure medicine refilled. Would you like to go with me, dear? We could have lunch at the diner. The food’s only passable, but I thought it would be a nice break from eating here three times a day.”

“Sure. I was going to ask if you wanted to come shopping with me this afternoon, anyway. I told Dean I would look for some tables for the cottage as well as a few other pieces for the inn. The place really does need some accent pieces.”

“That sounds like fun. When can you be ready?”

“I just have to get my purse.”

“Me, too. Meet you in fifteen minutes?”

Bailey nodded and hurried back to the cottage, digging in her pocket for the key. She was about to step inside when she thought she saw a movement from the corner of her eye.

She looked toward the edge of the grounds, which were surrounded by thick woods that blocked the view of the nearest neighbors, over a quarter of a mile down the road. An old caretaker’s shack—the scene of the nowlegendary Cameron-twin murders—had once stood at the very edge of the woods, but Dean had torn down the remains of the building a few months ago, leaving a fresh pile of dirt in its place.

It was in that direction that she thought she’d seen someone moving around. But at second glance, she only saw trees, scraggly bushes and the posts for the privacy and security fence Dean was having constructed along the inn’s grounds.

She shook her head and opened the cottage door, telling herself that she must have been more affected by the account of Casey’s bad dream than she’d realized. She seemed to be unusually jumpy these days. She felt as if her past was coming back to haunt her.

THE MAN IN THE WOODS saw everything. He knew the schedules of everyone at the inn, their routines, their habits. He knew when they were together. And when they were alone.

When she was alone.

He waited.

When the time was right, he’d know.

And so would she.

THE SMALL TOWN of Destiny, Arkansas, had changed since the first time Bailey had visited there with Dean a year ago. The new Destiny Library was the first thing she saw when she drove down the main street. Originally named the Charles Peavy Memorial Library when it opened in January, it had been renamed a few weeks later when Mark Winter had published an article proving that the late Charles Peavy had murdered the Cameron twins and at least two others in 1921.

Mayor Charles Peavy Vandover, grandson of the murderous Charles, had borne up well under the scandal of the revelation, keeping his head high and proclaiming that he could not be held responsible for the nefarious actions of his ancestor. His cousins, Chief of Police Roy Peavy and State Representative Gaylon Peavy, had followed suit, claiming embarrassment about the story but maintaining their distance from their grandfather’s deeds.

The murderer’s daughter, Margaret Peavy Vandover, once the reigning grande dame of Destiny, had all but gone into seclusion during the past months. Rumor had it that she was in poor health.

The townspeople hadn’t turned on the Peavys, who had contributed a great deal to the community during the past seventy-five years. Few could claim that all their own ancestors had been models of propriety—and, as Dean ruefully pointed out, money and power still had a slight edge over old-fashioned concepts like honor and justice.

The early interest in the story had waned when a lightning-ignited fire had burned down the old redbrick post office in the center of town, taking a couple of other old buildings with it and necessitating a major renovation of the downtown business section. A seventy-fiveyear-old scandal could hardly compete with the excitement of all the new insurance-financed construction going on in town.

Bailey could see that Dean was slowly making a place for himself here. His inn had become a popular dining spot, and the tourists he’d drawn to the area were warmly welcomed by the local shop owners who’d been struggling to survive.

Having the inn occupied again, after six years of its sitting empty, had gone a long way toward dispelling the old ghost rumors that Dean had found so disturbing when he’d first bought the inn. He’d told Bailey that he was content to let the legend fade into oblivion.

At first, some of the locals had wanted to talk to Anna about the tragic fate of her distant cousins, and some had found it compelling that fate had brought another Cameron to live in the old place again, but neither Anna nor Dean had encouraged speculation about her suspiciously timed appearance. They seemed content to leave the past alone, and concentrate on the future.

“Why do you suppose Dean and Anna are so evasive about how they met?” Bailey asked Mae over lunch in the no-frills Destiny Diner, where brightly colored Halloween cutouts served as the most prominent concession to decorating. “I’ve yet to hear a satisfactory explanation. First thing any of us knew, they were head over heels in love and engaged to be married.”

An odd expression crossed Mae’s face. “I’m sure they have their reasons for keeping the details to themselves.”

“Do you think it had anything to do with Anna’s family? Her brother, maybe?” Bailey asked, knowing she was coming precariously close to breaking her promise to Bran. But she couldn’t help herself. She was overwhelmingly curious about him.

Mae choked on a sip of ice tea. She hastily raised a paper napkin to her lips. “Her brother?” she asked a moment later.

Bailey nodded. “I overheard Anna talking about him,” she confessed. “She seemed very upset about him, as though they’d quarreled or had been separated against their will. Do you know what happened between them?”

“No,” Mae replied without quite meeting Bailey’s eyes. “I can’t say that I do. I’m sure Anna would tell us if she wanted us to know,” she added with gentle reproval.