“Lead the way.”
As they headed down the brick walkway toward Gibson Street, Sydney couldn’t help but smile. “Those Milhaus sisters are a couple of characters,” she said to Russ. “Imagine, living in that great big house your whole life, never marrying, never going out on your own.”
“I don’t think either of them could bear to leave that house. Their great-grandfather built it and it’s been in the family ever since.”
The Periwinkle wasn’t the only Victorian on Gibson Street. The wide avenue was lined with grand homes, all of them painted in vibrant colors and many of them with signs out front indicating they were also bed-and-breakfasts.
Russ pointed out some of the more historically notable homes and who lived there now.
“It seems strange to me,” Sydney said, “knowing so much about your neighbors. I barely know the names of the people who live right next door to me in New York.”
“One reason I would never live in a big city,” Russ said.
“So you’re here to stay?”
“You couldn’t pry me away from this town. I go to Austin or San Antonio out of sheer necessity sometimes, but other than that, everything I need is right here.”
Sydney nodded in reply. Russ did seem to belong here, despite the fact he didn’t talk with the native twang most of the other residents had.
“Did you go away to college?”
“Nope. I took some classes at the Boone County Community College, but I figured I didn’t need a degree to do what I wanted to do, so I never got around to graduating.”
“So you’ve always worked at the general store, doing the wilderness-outfitter stuff?”
“Worked at the store since I was fifteen. I started out just renting a couple of canoes and serving as a guide, and it grew from there. I bought the store from Bert about six years ago so he could spend his retirement fishing. But he can’t stay away from the place—I think he gets a kick out of telling me how to do things.”
Sydney couldn’t imagine living that kind of life. It was so different from everything she knew. Yet part of her found it appealing. Her life was so hectic, so overscheduled. The closest she ever got to the wilderness was sitting on a park bench and feeding the crumbs of her cream-cheese bagel to the pigeons.
The Boone County Courthouse sat in the center of a small town square. Constructed of limestone, it was three stories tall, with a clock tower as a fourth level. Sydney consulted her slim gold watch. “The clock keeps good time.”
As if on cue, the clock chimed the hour. It was one, and Sydney hadn’t had lunch. But she was used to skipping meals. She was usually just too busy to eat.
“I’m turned around,” Sydney confessed. “Where’s Main Street?”
“The north side of the square. The general store is on Main about three blocks east. Sure you don’t want some lunch before you get to work?”
There were several cute little restaurants with colorful awnings lining the square. Somewhere, someone was grilling meat and it smelled like heaven.
“Maybe something quick,” she said.
“How about a sausage on a stick? Best German sausage you’ll ever eat.”
“Okay.”
Russ led them to a little German deli, where he ordered two sausages to go. They took them to a bench on the square and sat. Sydney was glad Russ had brought lots of napkins. But despite the mess, she found it quite pleasant, sitting with the sun warming her face, sharing conversation with her host. He’d certainly thawed out. He hadn’t scowled at her once since he’d arrived at the B and B. Maybe his initial coolness was just a small-towner’s natural caution with strangers from the city.
She again wondered why he was going to the trouble of helping her out. Surely he wasn’t this accommodating to every stranger who arrived in Linhart.
It had to be the money. In her experience, money was the prime motivating factor in most people’s lives. Well, that and sex. And Russ…hmm. Was it possible he found her attractive? He’d certainly been watching her attentively. She’d made it clear she was leaving in a couple of days, but maybe he thought she would be up for some easy, no-strings sex. Living in a small town, it was probably impossible to have any kind of sexual liaison with another local, at least not without long-lasting repercussions.
Not that she ran around having casual sex right and left, but she did like the anonymity of the city. She certainly never ran into any of her ex-boyfriends—the city was just too damn big.
Well, just because she was from the city didn’t mean she was easy. If Russ had a quick roll in the hay in mind, he would be disappointed. Not that the idea was without merit. And not that she’d mind the flirtation while she was here.
“Linhart is really a very nice town,” she said.
“You sound surprised.”
“It’s a lot prettier than some of the other towns I’ve seen, that’s all.” Not that she’d seen all that many. She’d been to her father’s hometown south of Austin only once, but that was more than enough. Talk about depressing.
Sydney finished her sausage and her bottled water, cleaned her hands with a moist towelette and reapplied her lipstick. Russ watched this process with undisguised interest—and perhaps a little amusement.
He threw their trash away in a nearby litter bin. “Ready?”
She nodded, feeling the first curls of temptation in the pit of her stomach. She could hook up with Russ. What harm would it do? She’d had virtually no social life since her mother died; even most of her girlfriends had quit calling because they’d become tired of her turning down their invitations to dinner, movies and parties.
Though she spent a lot of time with her father, she was lonely. She and Russ were both consenting adults.
He raised one eyebrow in a look that told her he was reading her thoughts. And that was enough to bring her back to her senses. She had work to do, a last chance to save her father from himself. Besides, she really wasn’t the kind of woman who slept with strangers. As soon as she got back home, she would call some of her friends and initiate a few outings, maybe have dinner with the downstairs neighbor who’d invited her out a couple of times. Otherwise she would have to get a cat and start going by “Miss Sydney.”
Chapter Three
Russ couldn’t believe the mess the county records were in. There’d been a flood a few years ago and volunteers had carried the files out of the basement willy-nilly in boxes and stacks so they wouldn’t be destroyed. They’d returned the records to the basement after the flood, but nobody had bothered unpacking the boxes or refiling the records.
Gil Saunders, the county records clerk and a good friend, had shown Russ and Sydney to the basement. “Sometimes I can find things, if you know exactly what you’re looking for,” Gil told Sydney. “I’ve got some high-school kids lined up to help me get this mess organized, but they won’t start till next month.”
“I wish I could tell you exactly what I’m looking for. But I’m not sure. I just need to browse.”
“Have at it, then.”
When Sydney had gone to the ladies’ room, Russ had taken Gil aside and explained to him that it was important Sydney never locate any records having to do with him or his mother.
Gil, a real friend, didn’t even ask why. He quickly gathered up the few things he could lay his hands on—Russ’s mom’s business license and the deed to her little house—then took them to his office and hid them in a drawer. Unfortunately, that was all he could do. He couldn’t guarantee Sydney wouldn’t come across something in the old records, but the chances of her finding what she was looking