came anonymously to Abigail,” Cord spoke up. “Sent in a dirty envelope. No return address. No idea who brought it.”
“Me and the mayor asked Olivia to look into what was in that time capsule,” Abigail put in, looking self-important. “And we both thought we should keep an eye on Lilibeth.”
“So now we need to decide what to do about this,” Cal said. “As you know, the sheriff’s office is stretched thin, so we’re hoping this committee could help us with this.”
“I say we confront her,” Abigail said, inspecting her electric-blue nails, her glasses glinting in the bright lights of the meeting room. “She was pretty angry about losing that beauty contest. I’m sure she did it to get even and she needs to know you can’t steal stuff belonging to the town.”
“Now, Abigail, we don’t know for sure she is a suspect in spite of her being upset,” Cal admonished her. “And whoever sent this note wasn’t ready or willing to show his or her face. It could just be someone who has an ax to grind with Lilibeth.”
“Or it could be someone who knows something,” Abigail pressed.
Rusty leaned forward, looking over at Brody. “Say, Mr. Harcourt, I noticed at the town hall the other day that Ms. Shoemaker seemed mighty interested in you.”
Hannah was surprised at the twinge of jealousy Rusty’s comment gave her. And why she should even feel that way.
She thought of their conversation in the café last week. How, for a moment, she had felt it again. That slow curl of attraction she hadn’t felt in years.
Brody created a completely different set of emotions that made her feel as if she was being unfaithful to David’s memory.
“She’s a flirt, that’s all,” Brody said, his voice disinterested.
“She’s never flirted with me,” Cord said, grinning as he leaned forward to look past Hannah at Brody.
“Maybe it’s because I’m a romantic, whereas you’re a hardened bachelor who doesn’t believe in love,” Brody retorted. “Which makes me wonder why you’re on that Old Tyme Wedding Committee.”
“It’s because I’m a hardened bachelor,” Cord said with a laugh. “I can view things objectively.” Cord looked back down at the note in front of him, then over to Brody again. “As for Lilibeth, I think you should capitalize on her interest in you. Maybe see if you can find out what she knows. Turn on that Harcourt charm.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Abigail said, suddenly coming to life. “You could cozy up to her. Find out what she’s been up to. You’re a good-looking guy, she’d be interested in you.”
“I dunno about the good-looking part,” Cord drawled. He gave Hannah a little nudge with his elbow. “We need a second opinion. What do you think, Hannah? Would you be interested in a guy like Brody?”
Hannah could only stare at Cord, her mind going blank as she struggled to think what to say.
“I’m—I’m not Lilibeth Shoemaker, so—so I can’t—can’t say.” She clamped her lips on her stammering response and turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her, wishing her cheeks didn’t feel so warm. She was sure she was blushing.
“I think we should follow through on the note,” Rusty said, folding his gnarled hands over each other, his eyes narrowing as his piercing gaze moved to each member of the committee. “See where it takes us.”
“I’m not going to flirt with Lilibeth,” Brody said, a note of finality in his voice. “It’s not fair to her because I’m not even interested in her.”
His adamant tone created a surprising serenity in Hannah and his “not interested” comment, a tremble of hope.
“And we all know that Book-it Brody doesn’t look back or go where he’s not wanted,” Cord said with a hint of a smile. “Too proud.”
“But Lilibeth is the only one in town we know of with the initials L.S.,” Abigail continued, obviously not willing to let this go. “And what was she doing at town hall?”
Hannah assumed the question was addressed to her. “She was asking about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest,” she said. “She claimed it was rigged and wanted to find out more about it.”
“See. There you go. She’s snooping around. She’s hiding something.” Abigail slapped her hand on the table as she turned to Brody. “I think you’d better check her out, Brody.”
“I have a better idea,” Cord said, his drawl deepening. “Why don’t we get Mr. Harcourt and Mrs. Douglas to speak with her together. That way she won’t be suspicious and it would satisfy Brody’s tender sensibilities.”
Brody shook his head, wondering what Cord was up to. “I don’t know about that, either—”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Rusty cut into Brody’s protest, granting Hannah and Brody an avuncular look. “Why don’t you two take her out for coffee in the next couple of days. Feel her out about the time capsule. It’d be better if the two of you do it. Like Cord said, she won’t be as suspicious.”
“I agree,” said Deputy Calloway before Hannah could lodge her own protest. “We need to deal with this note, and this is the most discreet way to find out if Lilibeth has anything to do with the disappearance of the time capsule. Now, let’s move on to the next item on the agenda.”
Hannah’s fingers automatically typed the words as the meeting went on, but the entire time she typed she was aware of Brody sitting beside her and the “date” they were supposed to arrange.
Looked as if she didn’t have much choice. Spending time with Brody was probably not the best idea. She would simply have to remember that in spite of her feelings for Brody, she was a mother first and foremost.
Her thoughts flipped back to the conversation she had overheard between Dylan and Brody.
Brody’s job had so many risks. She didn’t think he was the kind of man she should allow her heart to follow.
“Here’s my donation for the basket auction.” Annette Lakey set a large, cellophane-covered basket on the divider. Bright purple ribbons tied off the top of a basket loaded with bottles of shampoo, lotion, conditioner, a nail kit and assorted other goodies that Hannah assumed came from Annette’s hair salon, the Cutting Edge. Though Annette was a walking advertisement for her own salon with her black-and-pink-streaked hair, she also knew her clientele well enough and was a whiz with perms and basic cuts. “I also stuck in a gift certificate for a haircut.”
“This is excellent,” Hannah said, getting up to take the basket. “I’ll put it with the others.” She would have to bring some more of the baskets to Abigail’s today. She’d been storing the premade theme baskets in her apartment.
“Do you think you’ll get your fifty baskets? That still seems like a lot.”
By asking for fifty picnic baskets for the auction, the Jasper Gulch Centennial Committee wanted to tie in with the World’s Largest Old Tyme Wedding scheduled for next month, where fifty couples would be exchanging vows.
“We’re getting there. But a lot of people seem to want to make themed baskets, which helps.”
“Are you making one? For that special someone?” Annette asked with a gleam in her dark eyes.
Hannah’s thoughts slipped to Brody Harcourt, but she shook her head, flashing Annette a tight smile. “I’m making one, but just for the fund-raiser. Not anyone special.”
“Of course. I forgot about David,” Annette said, sympathy lacing her voice. “I’m so sorry.” More people in town seemed to treat