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  “You’re next,” Lorna reminded him.

  Max ducked his head sheepishly. “Then, well, I don’t know if this is really a bucket list item. It’s just normal life for most people.”

  “What is it?”

  “I wrote down family. Because everyone eventually has a family, right? Although, maybe they don’t. Because I’m thirty-seven and it seems I might be missing the boat on that.” Or maybe I was just waiting for the perfect woman to appear, in a cemetery, like an angel ghost.

  “You reminded me of something I need to add to my list,” Lorena said.

  Max couldn’t make out the upside-down item that she’d just added. “What did you just write?”

  “Soulmate. I’ve always loved that word. I know most people think it’s unrealistic. A fantasy. But after all, it is my bucket list.”

  One thing that Lorna could not put down in black and white on this list, even though it was the very first thing that she’d thought of, was the sexual experience that Lexi had mercilessly teased her for not having. But not for Lexi’s sake. For her own. It was an omission in her life that she wanted to rectify, ASAP.

  From the café’s cash register, the two of them were being watched very intently. Café owner Gillian Swann was rarely on the premises. Her artwork being her biggest priority, she was happy to delegate the management of the staff to trusted employees. But today, two of the trusted employees were attending out-of-town weddings and recovering from food poisoning, respectively.

  Gillian had received a gift of Lilith Hazelwood’s eyes, which not only saved her from a lifetime of blindness but gave her a supercharged vision that could see human auras and could penetrate right through walls, through clothing, and even through human flesh.

  From the wildly accelerated heartbeats, the sweat glands, and the pupil dilations, there was so much attraction erupting at Lorna and Max’s table, it was hard to take her eyes off them. And the pink glow flowing out of both of them—their deep feelings were such a marked contrast to the tentative hesitation in their faces. Clearly, a first date.

  But there was something else going on with the young woman. Some powerful element covering the entirety of her body. Something that made Gillian wonder if she hadn’t found another of Lilith’s transplant heirs. When Lorna came to the counter for cup of water, Gillian couldn’t resist pulling her aside.

  “I just had to ask—does the name Lilith Hazelwood mean anything to you?”

  Lorna gasped. Who was this pretty young auburn-haired woman? “How do you know about Lilith Hazelwood?”

  Gillian nodded triumphantly. “What did you have transplanted? I have her eyes.”

  “Really? They’re beautiful eyes. Do they do anything . . . special?”

  Gillian looked Lorna up and down. “You’re wearing a moss green bra and . . . yellow- and white-striped panties.”

  “What an obscene talent!”

  They both laughed, delighted to find someone who could understand the Lilith Hazelwood experience.

  “I have a lot of questions for you,” Lorna said.

  “Same here. And I know you and I are really going to get to know one another well. But . . .” Gillian said, glancing back in Max’s direction, “Right now, and speaking from personal experience, you really need to devote some time to getting to know him well.”

  “Do you know Max?”

  “No. But I can see the feelings pouring out of him. And you too, for that matter. You two have some important things to work out. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. Take my card.”

  “Oh, what a beautiful card. And you’re an artist! Which would explain the beautiful card.”

  They were both uplifted by the exchange and parted with promises to see one another soon. Lorna rejoined Max, whereupon they continued their bucket list discussion. It was, of course, unwittingly, an indirect means of tentatively discussing the shared life they hoped to have together.

  Sometimes, it takes a lengthy acquaintance to know someone’s finer qualities. To be warmed by their presence. To connect with their soul. And to fall hopelessly in love. And sometimes, as Lorna and Max would each have told you, sometimes, it happens on the very first date.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Was Lorna actually humming? Finn had never seen her in such a good mood.

  “Well, aren’t you Miss Sunshine? What gives?”

  “It’s just a glorious day, isn’t it? Beautiful day, beautiful sky, and Oyster Cove really is a beautiful town, isn’t it?”

  Finn didn’t get to be as good of a cop as he was without being able to read people.

  “What’s his name?”

  Lorna was surprised but not displeased. “Max. But don’t ask any questions. I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “You aren’t doing any crazy love spells, are you?”

  “No, I think we just like each other in the regular, ordinary, typical, old-fashioned way.”

  “Now, that I can believe. However, I hate to bring your thoughts back to the murder, but this one is still very much unsolved. This next fellow should be interesting—Mr. Jake Partridge.”

  They drove up to a very busy construction site that spanned almost an entire city block. The buildings had a very atmospheric look to them, and Lorna got the sensation of being on a Hollywood back lot and walking through the Wild West section.

  They were greeted by Jake Partridge, a hearty man in his early fifties, and his animated fiancée, Kimberly Gottfried, in her mid-forties. He was a budding real estate mogul, barking orders at dozens of different contractors and looking as if he was king of the hill.

  “This whole thing is going to turn into an entertainment block,” he boasted proudly. “It’s going to become a real destination—two bars, three restaurants, a spa facility, a jewelry shop, and a bank. Now you know how most places in Oyster Cove are really themed around the beach and the sea, real nautical. That’s all well and good. But nothing sells like variety.

  “This is going to be straight up Old West. Straight out of the 1880s boomtown. Very Westworld. Old-timey uniforms and costumes. Antiques. Some old-fashioned drinks sprinkled here and there, just for atmosphere, along with the cutting-edge stuff. I think the tourists are going to love it.

  “And as an added attraction, we have something that none of the other bars and cafés have, and that’s a rooftop patio. All those places right on the Promenade can only build so high. But what we lost in a little proximity to the beach, we got back in height and this really amazing view.”

  Finn was impressed. “You’re doing well. It seems your life was never adversely affected by your portrayal in Stella Kirby’s book.”

  “Ah. Yes. I did hear that she died. Shocking tragedy. But no, I’ve never suffered any ill effects from her silly little book, as you can see.”

  Kimberly chimed in, “We’re actually grateful for it.”

  “Is that right?” Finn asked. “How’s that?”

  “When the book came out, Jake was engaged to this other woman—an absolute prude, if you ask me. And then, he goes off to his bachelor party in Vegas.”

  “Quite a party,” Finn noted. “You paid out over ten thousand dollars for half a dozen, uh, escort ladies to . . . entertain you and your guests.”

  “It was just one last wild fling,” Kimberly explained. “Typical bachelor stuff. But she didn’t see it that way. Good thing the wedding wasn’t planned till after that book came out.”

  Jake nodded agreement. “Good thing is right. It would’ve been a very messy divorce, because she never would have gotten over it. Stella Kirby’s book saved me from a very messy entanglement.”

  “So, because of Stella’s book, Jake and I are together.”

  “And I have the perfect partner to move my business dream forward. I have Stella to thank for that.”

  “We should send her flowers.”

  Finn shook his head. “Those you would have to send to the cemetery.”

  “It’s great that things worked out so well for you,” Lorna said si
ncerely. “I’d love to come back after your shops are open.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” Jake said. “And if this place goes well, and it will, we’re going to expand onto a second block, but that would be New Orleans themed, with French quarter façades and Cajun bands every night. Really spice up this town.”

  Lorna and Finn both gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Not a bit of motive here.

  “I appreciate your time. Good luck with the businesses,” Finn said.

  After they were back in the car, Finn let out a sigh of frustration.

  “Out of Lexi, Ivy, and Jake, Ivy is the only one who wasn’t able to really recover from the book scandals.”

  “Is there no one else?”

  “There’s WS and RS, the woman who didn’t know that her husband was cheating on her for twenty years and still didn’t know after he died. But the lady at the book club was right—WS would have to be a really old lady. Not a very likely candidate.

  “There’s plenty of other folks in the book, and no one comes out really clean, but we’ve already looked into the most damaging stories. Feels like there’s something missing. Something important that I didn’t understand how important it was. Memorial service is next Saturday, by the way.”

  “I feel strange going there, not being a relative, or friend, or even a fan.”

  “I know it sounds cold, but that service is an important part of the investigation. Going to mingle, going to listen, going just to pay attention.”

  “I can do that.” Lorna glanced at her phone. “Sorry, I have to take off.”

  “I see. Max?”

  “No, Lexi. If we’re going for full disclosure again. She’s becoming a good friend, and she invited me to this thing. Anyway, I’ll see you later.”

  This “thing” that Lexi had invited Lorna to was described to her as an organic skincare and makeup presentation that one of Lexi’s friends was selling. Why not? Buy a few things to help out the friend of a friend.

  Lexi’s apartment suited her to a T. Filled with rich burgundy and rose furniture and curtains, it was shabby chic meets bordello. Her friends looked as if they had been over to visit a hundred times. Chloe was a short, blondish woman in her late thirties who looked as if she had been a grunge/metal fan in a previous life. Lorna made a note to herself to ask Chloe if she’s ever been to Burning Man. Jules, also late thirties, was a New Agey African-American woman, with short spiky hair and a Native American choker, who worked as a clothing designer.

  “I’m pleased to meet you both. Which one of you sells the organic products?” Lorna asked.

  The three women all grinned mischievously.

  “We all brought products for you—books, films, instructions, manuals, lotions, toys, everything you need to take your life to the next level.”

  Uh, oh. Surely, she couldn’t be referring to . . . “Lexi? Lexi! You didn’t–you didn’t–you didn’t . . .”

  “Stop stammering, girl,” Chloe scolded. “No one should go through life without proper sex ed instruction. Now, Jules here has taken classes in Tantric sex and in erotic massage.”

  Jules smirked. “Continuing education is a beautiful thing. Lorna, by the time I’m done with you, the men will howl, the men will beg, and you’ll have your pick of them.”

  “And while Lexi and I don’t have certificates to put on the wall like Jules here—and I still can’t believe you actually put them up, framed, on the wall of your shop—”

  “Gotta lose the shame, Chloe. Gotta lose the shame.”

  “Oh, no shame. I’m going to show Lorna more tricks up my sleeve than David Blaine. You’re going to thank me, Lorna. Because these are the trade secrets that give me the edge over the other gals in town. I don’t share them with just anyone.”

  By this time, Lexi was pulling out erotic videos and Kama Sutra picture books. Jules had paraphernalia of her own. “Don’t worry. We’re going to send you home with a nice gift basket.”

  Lexi couldn’t fail to notice that Lorna’s jaw was hanging open. And she had turned three different shades of pink, and her mind was clearly spinning in a mortified daze of thoughts. But she hadn’t run for the door yet—that was encouraging.

  But . . . oh, no, was she hyperventilating? Oh, well. She just had to embrace of the necessity of this intervention. After all, what are good friends for?

  Talk about a secret being out! Lorna had always assumed that she would feel much like Ivy Morgan on having her private life exposed—humiliated beyond belief, and certain that everyone would be laughing at her. But these women weren’t poking fun at her. They were just incredibly gung-ho about filling in the gaps of her knowledge.

  Lexi winked at her. “The men of Oyster Cove will thank us.”

  Lorna shook her head. “I don’t care about the men of Oyster Cove. I only care about one man. One guy.”

  The women all leaned forward in surprise.

  “You got a guy?” Jules asked. “Why didn’t you say so? How far have things gotten?”

  Lorna waved a hand over all of the teaching materials and paraphernalia. “Not this far.”

  Lexi waggled a finger in Lorna’s face. “Lorna, don’t you dare turn down our help.”

  Lorna let out a long breath. “I really like this guy. I really do want to get close to him, and not be so . . . clueless. So, I guess I’m going to let you help me.”

  The other three women cheered as if their team’s MVP had just scored a touchdown. Hopefully, she soon would.

  *****

  Lorna couldn’t help but want to get a peek to see how things were going at the library. As she stepped out of her car, she saw that Raymond’s car had arrived just moments earlier. He and Vicki were holding hands and giggling and sprinting giddily toward the library entrance. It could not have been more obvious that they had just spent the night together. And she had never seen either one of them filled with such energy and life.

  The library was no longer feeling like a gloomy crime scene. The local boutiques and department stores may have experienced a little bonanza—all the librarians were noticeably dressing a lot more fashionably. In the employee restroom, Lorna was surprised to see several women attending to their makeup, side-by-side, and swapping beauty tips.

  From the open cubicles, she was hearing the most astounding conversations.

  “Okay, maybe it’s not technically a nude beach. But they’re petitioning for it to be a nudist beach, and why not? Oyster Cove needs to loosen up. Maybe a little group of us needs to head out there to show our support.”

  “If the three of us go, I think it will be showing off our lack of support,” one middle-aged employee responded and was greeted with great hilarity.

  Passing the upstairs reference desk, a young man offered Lorna headphones and an MP3 player. “Dance party in the back. Be sure to check it out,” he recommended cheerfully.

  Dance party? This was a library, not a nightclub, and despite the buzz of all the flirtatious socializing, it was still a relatively quiet library. What on earth constitutes a dance party under those circumstances?

  She headed to the back of the library to see if, perhaps, the party was a figment of the young man’s imagination. It was not.

  In a clear area in front of the back shelves, there were about six tables for people to work on. But today, they weren’t working. They were dancing! On the tables! And on the floor. And in the aisles. Everyone had their headphones on and was moving and gyrating to the rhythm that was blasting in their ears but silent beyond them.

  They were grooving to the music of their choice and enjoying the general festive celebration and the sheer joyous rule breaking of loud music in the library. Whose crazy idea was this? And was that . . . was that Miles dancing on the table? His new friend Harriet was keeping pace with him. They say that there’s someone for everyone. But who knew that was going to include Miles?

  Okay. Her spell was certainly having some unforeseen consequences. But nothing too wild. Nothing too insane. Things hadn’t g
otten completely out of control, had they?

  As Lorna passed the utility closet on her way to the water fountain, she could hear some muffled laughter within. Oh, no. Perhaps she had spoken too soon. With great trepidation, she opened the door—to find her friend Melody engaged in a very heavy make out session with . . . with Dr. Svenson!

  She shut the door on them quickly. This most certainly qualified as things getting out of control. But no one had to tell her that there was no putting this genie back in the bottle. What had she done?

  *****

  Every hour of the day, it felt like Lorna was doing or seeing something for the very first time in her life. She was fully aware of how small and constrained her life had been, and she knew it was a bit unbelievable to the outside world.

  “You’ve never played pool before?” Max asked. “Okay, that’s a little bit hard to imagine. I don’t play great, but that doesn’t keep me from doing it over and over again. There are pool tables in every bar. Weren’t you curious?”

  “I guess I’m not much of a barfly,” Lorna demurred. Which is to say that I’ve never been in a bar in my life.

  But she was enjoying herself. The drink was very tasty, even though the bartender poked fun at her for ordering a mocktail. “Sure, it’s on the menu, but no one ever orders it. It’s for grannies.”

  And no, she’d never played pool. It was sort of an embarrassing game to learn in public, because every beginner was so embarrassingly bad at it. But as Max leaned gently over her, showing her how to line up the shot and explaining where to hold her elbow and how hard to hit the cue ball, she quickly saw the appeal of it as a date game.

  “So, the symmetry of it, the geometry of figuring out where the ball’s going to ricochet—that’s the important thing to figure out, I guess.”