“Blue water,” he echoed. It wasn’t just Cate’s eyes that glowed; he sensed anticipation simmering inside her.
Something about the missing-child case has created a fresh energy.
“Oh, crap.” Cate froze, her wineglass at her lips, her gaze locked on a man across the deck who was talking to a waiter. “What day is it today?”
Henry choked back a laugh. “It’s not Thursday. Don’t worry. He’s not scheduled to play tonight.” Cate had spotted Herb, who always provided live music on Thursdays at the Harbor View Inn. Herb and his oboe weren’t to everyone’s taste—especially Henry’s and Cate’s. Herb liked to play his instrument in close proximity to his audience members, his hips and shoulders in constant movement.
Henry’s first attendance at one of Herb’s performances rated high on his list of awkward and uncomfortable moments.
The relief on Cate’s face was almost comical. “Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I want to enjoy our evening in peace.” She took a large swallow of wine and relaxed into her chair. “How was your afternoon?”
“I set up an interview with a nurse practitioner who’s considering a move to the island. She’s visited several times and loves it.”
“Good! You need help. It’s not fair that you’re the sole provider on the island. I’m tired of people calling late on Friday night because they have a sore throat. I don’t care what she’s like; hire her.”
He knew Cate wasn’t serious, but she had a good point about him being on call twenty-four seven. “What do you think about me asking Jane to interview her too?”
Cate raised a brow. “She’s a good judge of character.”
“Do you think she’d be able to tell if someone would stick around or leave the island in three months? I hate to invest time and money in someone, only to have them realize island life isn’t for them.” He’d admired Jane’s deep insight about people ever since he’d met her.
“Oh, I see what you’re asking.” Cate appeared to ponder his question as she looked out at the blue water. “It’s not a magic trick. I don’t think Jane reads a message about the future on anyone’s forehead.”
“When I first met Jane, she knew I’d stay.”
Cate shrugged. “Then ask her. I’m sure she’d love to help you.”
Henry took one of Cate’s hands. “Now. Tell me what happened this afternoon. You look like you can hardly sit still. Good news from the agency about your old case, I hope?”
“Phillip asked me to interview Kori Causey’s parents. They live here on Widow’s.”
She’s excited to be involved.
Cate had assured him many times that she didn’t miss her job at the FBI, but this mystery had made her come alive the same way she had last spring, when she’d been pulled into another old case. He knew she needed the intellectual stimulation. Baking and organizing the bookstore didn’t challenge her the way her job used to.
But she had been right to leave the job behind. The on-the-job anxiety had been crippling.
“It’s an interview. I’m just giving them a hand,” she told him earnestly. “The Astons won’t talk to anyone else.”
“Wait . . . you said they live here?”
The mandible.
She nodded, understanding in her gaze. “I know—could they be the ones who delivered the package? I talked with Phillip about that too.”
The waiter appeared at their table. Cate ordered salmon, Henry ordered the thai pizza, and they agreed on onion rings for an appetizer.
After the waiter left, Henry turned back to Cate. “Could the grandparents be involved?”