But there was no need for alarm. It was a truck pulling into the parking lot, one she recognized immediately from all the time she’d spent in it last night.
What was Sawyer Hamilton doing here?
She tried not to watch him as he parked the truck and stepped out, but like it or not, her eyes were drawn to him. He reached back into the truck for something. Sawyer stepped back out with coffee.
“What are you doing here?” She voiced the question that she hadn’t stopped mentally asking since she saw him.
“I figured you’d be here and thought you might have had a rough night.”
She stared, understanding not dawning until he reached out with the coffee cup. That was for her?
“You used to get cappuccinos in high school. I hope that’s still okay.”
“In high school?” She reached for the coffee, feeling like she could use the caffeine to get her out of this fog that seemed to have descended with Sawyer’s presence. This concern for her was the last thing she would have expected from him.
“Thank you,” she said, allowing herself a small smile. “And cappuccinos...yes, that’s still my favorite.” They hadn’t spent time together outside of their classes in high school that she could remember. Ever. So how had he...?
“I saw you order it more than once when you’d study at the bookstore.”
The old bookstore had been the only place to get coffee in Treasure Point all those years ago, and the fancy espresso machine had only lasted five years or so before the owners of the bookstore had sold it, since it wasn’t making them much of a profit. At the time, Treasure Point—with the exception of Kelsey—seemed to prefer its coffee plain. It was only recently, when Claire Phillips had returned to town after college, that more people had accepted the idea of “fancy” coffee.
“Well...thanks, then,” she repeated, then shook her head and took a long sip of that cappuccino. She closed her eyes for a second. So good.
Unfortunately, after a second, Kelsey acknowledged she had to open her eyes and get to work.
She turned away from Sawyer and walked toward the front door of the museum. She’d been scheduled to work with Michael Wingate. With him dead... Kelsey wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work anymore. The rules had changed. Would she even be allowed to work today, or was the museum still being treated as a crime scene?
The door of the museum opened just then, and a dark-haired woman stepped out. Gemma O’Dell, the marketing manager for the museum. Kelsey had met with her briefly when she’d first arrived back in town.
“Kelsey, you came.”
“Were you doubting that I would?”
“We weren’t sure with...” she shot a glance at the two police cars parked at the edge of the lot “...with everything that happened yesterday,” she finished. “Matt almost didn’t let me come to work today.” She said the last part with a grin and Kelsey knew she didn’t really mind the overprotectiveness of her husband, Matt O’Dell.
“So, will I be working with you today?”
Gemma shook her head and moved her hand to the baby bump that was quite obvious. “Even though I don’t officially go on maternity leave until the baby comes—”
“You’re due any day?” Kelsey guessed. She didn’t have much experience with babies or childbirth, but she was fairly certain that Gemma’s stomach had no more room for expansion, so she figured it must be close.
Gemma nodded. “Yes, and Matt wants me to do as much work from home as I can these last couple of weeks. Or days. I’m voting days.”
Kelsey laughed. “I’m sure you are.”
“Anyway, especially with the murder, here at the museum is not somewhere he wants me spending a lot of time. Not that there’s any reason to assume there will be more crimes. You shouldn’t be worried.”
Oh, if only Gemma knew.
“I’m not going to let it stop me from doing my job,” Kelsey reassured the other woman.
“Great. I’ll let you get started and I’ll be in my office for about an hour. After that, I’m headed home, but you can call me if you need anything. Do you need any help from me, or do you know where to get started today?”
“You can head to your office,” Kelsey assured her. “I know where to go and what to do.” As exhausted as Gemma looked already, Kelsey was relatively certain she wasn’t going to be bothering her. Gemma was one of the few full-time staff members at the museum, which meant that she was in for a day of answering worried phone calls and dealing with the public response in reaction to the murder. Clearly, she had enough on her plate, and Kelsey wouldn’t add to it.
With a relieved smile, Gemma went back inside, heading toward her office. Kelsey started to enter the building as well, but the manners her mother had drilled into her made her turn around to finish her conversation with Sawyer first.
“Are you coming in?” she asked. “Did you have some business with the museum today?”
“No, I just came by to check on you.”
Kelsey blinked. “You...what?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable but sincere. “I just came by to check on you,” he repeated. “And to make sure you wouldn’t be here by yourself, after those threats last night.”
That was unexpected. But she tried to brush it off. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. She pointed to the cop cars. “I won’t be here alone.”
“Good—that’s good.” He looked awkward, as if he had something to say, but wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Finally, he blurted out, “Let me know if you’re going to be on your own later, okay?”
“Why?”
“So I can come over.”
“But why?” This wasn’t making any sense. “You don’t have to look after me. I’m not your responsibility, and I can take care of myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, taking the wind right out of her sails. “Dealing with threats and attacks isn’t something anyone should have to do on their own. I know the police will do what they can, but they have lots of responsibilities to handle, whereas I’m here in town with time on my hands. I can help. I want to help. Will you let me?”
He looked so hopeful that Kelsey couldn’t bring herself to say no—it would feel like kicking a puppy. An unwanted puppy who seemed to want nothing more than to get underfoot. So, fine, she’d agree to let him help, and then she’d just conveniently forget to contact him later. Problem solved.
Satisfied with her assurance that she’d let him know when she needed him—which would be at a quarter past never—Kelsey went inside and got to work.
She spent the day wandering the museum, estimating the value of some of the antiques that she could identify easily, and researching others to figure out comparisons that would tell her what they might be worth. She’d done the job before, many times, but always with direct supervision. It was a big vote of confidence from her employer that she was being allowed to do this, as well as another job, on her own.
Kelsey was supposed to spend tomorrow in St. Simons at the estate that was her other large project right now. At first, the Treasure Point Historical Society hadn’t been excited at the prospect of her attention being divided, but Kelsey had insisted she could handle