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“VIP…very important person.” He grinned. “That’s you, at least to me.”
“More likely it’s a product number or style code.” I chuckled, then thumped my head with my hand. “Wait a minute. Instead of a number, what if these digits were a date? And what if VIP was someone’s initials?” I traced the heart again. “You said valentine…”
“Yeah, so?”
“It can’t be…can it?” I recalled the library research. “Didn’t Mateo remarry a woman named Valentina Perez?” I caught his gaze. “And wasn’t her middle name Isabella?”
“Now that you mention it, I think so. Why?”
“VIP…What if this were Valentina Isabella Perez’s wedding veil?”
“That’s a leap.” His brow arched.
“Instead of 01141899…” I smoothed the lace to make the needlework more legible. “What if this reads 01-14-1899?”
“We know Mateo deeded this property to Marianna in January 1899 and remarried Valentina that same month.” His eyes widened. “Are you thinking what I am?”
“If VIP were Valentina’s initials, along with the date of their wedding, this veil might shed light on why Mateo made Marianna the beneficiary…”
“Guilt?” Half grinning and half grimacing, he shrugged. “The idea’s tantalizing, but it’s pure conjecture.”
“You’re right. My imagination’s running away with me.” I laughed as I glanced about the cabin. “Maybe it’s these old walls. They’ve seen so much, it’s easy to read more into things here than exists.”
Staring at the room’s white plaster with dark wood trim, he tilted his head at a philosophical angle. “If these walls are this cabin’s ‘bones,’ could these echoes of the past be its ‘soul’?”
****
After a candlelight dinner, I pulled a pen and paper from the desk. “Let’s start our guest list.”
“But first, a toast.” He topped off our glasses.
I raised mine. “What to?”
“To these four walls once again witnessing love.” He glanced about the cabin before gazing into my eyes. “Our love and Mateo and Marianna’s.”
As we clinked glasses, the lights flickered, and the wind howled through the chimney.
The front door banged open, and a gust of wind overturned the candles, setting fire to the paper.
“What the…?” I grabbed a damp dishtowel to smother the flames as Teddy cringed in the corner, barking.
Luke tried to shut the door, but gale-force winds pushed him back. Not until he threw his weight against the door could he finally latch and lock it. “That was no ordinary draft.”
“Was it Marianna’s doing?” I searched his face.
“Maybe Mateo’s?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so…”
“Then who or what?”
“I wonder…” Lifting my head, I sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
He inhaled and wrinkled his nose. “Mildew or mold.”
“I noticed it when the saleslady shook out the veil, then again when I showed you earlier.” The embroidered heart came to mind. “No…it couldn’t be, could it?”
“What are you thinking?”
