Christmas at Evergreen Inn (Jewell Cove 4)

“It was just fine. And way better than being stuck in my car.” He laughed lightly at his own qui

p. “Speaking of, I hope that police officer got home okay. The roads were a mess last night.”

Lainey focused on scooping coffee into the filter. “Actually, by the time you got here, they’d closed the highways. He ended up on my couch last night, and he’s kindly offered to shovel the front walk in lieu of board and breakfast.”

There. That sounded businesslike enough, didn’t it?

“You really did have a full house last night.”

She poured water into the reservoir. “Fullest I can ever remember, and I’ve been here a few years now.” She looked over at him and smiled. He was a pleasant-looking man, and she wondered what kind of business brought him here this close to the holiday. “So you’re a lawyer,” she said, taking out mugs. “What brings you to Jewell Cove in a bitterly cold December?”

“I’m working with Ian Martin on the Aquteg Island case,” he said, grinning. It lit his face up considerably and made him look much younger. “The details are so unique that it’s been fun. Very different from any other property deal I’ve worked on.”

Lainey knew some of the details; everyone in Jewell Cove did. Aquteg Island—commonly known as Lovers’ Island—had been a waypoint for the Underground Railroad during the Civil War. Mystique had surrounded it for decades, but lately the pieces had come together. The rumors of treasure had been true after all. Some of it had been distributed in antique jewelry pieces now owned by descendants of the Foster and Arseneault families. Then Josh Collins had discovered coins over the summer, and had donated them to the historical society. But the biggest discovery had happened this past fall, when a relative of Edward Jewell, the town’s founder, had taken an interest. Rich in his own right, Christopher Jewell had funded a treasure hunt that had netted articles more valuable, at least in Lainey’s mind, than any gold pieces or ruby necklaces.

He’d found documents. Records. Ship manifests and names of slaves who traveled to the island, aided by privateer-turned-abolitionist Charles Arseneault and his future wife, Constance Arnold. It was particularly important to Lainey, because her ancestors, Isaiah and Jerusha Price, had been aboard Charles’s ship during one of those trips. There was a move now to have the island classified as a national historic site.

She smiled at Sewell. “What an exciting thing to be involved in,” she said, handing him a cup of hot coffee. He sat at the table and she put cream and sugar in front of him. “You know, my great-great-grandparents traveled that railroad. They stayed here in Maine, though, rather than travel on to Canada.”

“Good heavens.” Sewell looked up at her. “That’s amazing.”

She nodded, understanding the confusion when he looked at her skin, which was more the color of the bottle of whiskey from last night than black. “My grandfather married my grandmother in the sixties,” she explained. “It was pretty unusual to have a mixed marriage here at the time, and they caused a big sensation. Then my dad married my mom, and she’s Irish—red hair and freckles and all. So I’m kind of a melting-pot kid. Still, I love that the history of the island is part of my heritage.”

“You’ve seen the books? The ones they found?”

She nodded. The books were in bad shape, having been preserved in a sea chest deep in a cave on the island. But the names had been unmistakable.

The back door opened and Todd came in, stamping his feet on the mat. “Well. That’s the start of a morning workout.” He grinned at Lainey, his cheeks ruddy beneath his hat. “It’s going to be a while before the streets are clean. Hope you have lots of food.”

“Any chance of me getting out to Refuge Point today, do you think?” Mr. Sewell said.

Todd shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“I guess I’ll have to phone Ian and let him know,” Sewell said with a sigh.

“Tomorrow for sure, I would think,” Todd told him as he unzipped his jacket. “You’re going out there to see Ian?”

“Mr. Sewell is part of the deal with the island,” Lainey said. She went to the fridge and started taking out ingredients.

“That mystery has kept this town guessing for years,” Todd confirmed. “I know some people believe it should be left as is, but I think it should be preserved as a historic site. It’s important and shouldn’t be forgotten.”

Lainey looked over her shoulder at him. He was completely serious, and her admiration for him went up another notch. She felt that way, too.

“Todd, help yourself to some coffee. If neither of you mind, I’m going to get breakfast going. People are going to be hungry soon.”

Todd and Sewell chatted easily over coffee while she sliced ham to fry, beat eggs for scrambling, and stirred up pancakes with a healthy helping of Maine blueberries in the batter. As everything started cooking, she took a pretty plate from the cupboard and filled it with mini croissants and Danishes from the bakery and put a dish of whipped butter beside it. For several minutes she was busy watching the food as it cooked. While she didn’t usually have to cook for this many at once, she enjoyed this part of the job. She’d always been comfortable in the kitchen.

“That smells amazing,” Todd said, standing at her shoulder. She hadn’t heard him get up from the table, and she jumped a little in surprise.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want help with anything?”

The door to the kitchen opened and the two sisters stuck their heads in. “Good morning,” one of them said.

A pancake was ready to be flipped and the eggs were setting up nicely, so Lainey let out a breath. “Actually, you could help. If you could pour the coffee into that carafe and take it and the cream and sugar to the dining room, that’d be great. There are mugs on the buffet that everyone can use.”

“No problem.”