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Morning walkers scurried out of the way, turning as she flew by them, utterly out of control.
I turned again, a pedestrian who’d just been about to step off the sidewalk jumping out of the way. I raised my hand and waved, giving old Mr. Dornbusch an apologetic smile. He raised his cane and angrily waved it in the air as I sped by.
Rory did a half turn, whirling around a mother pushing her baby, Rory lifting her arm so that her handful of leashes didn’t get caught on the stroller. Nice save. I let out a laugh, my heart pumping with the adrenaline of a chase. And damn if I wasn’t having fun even while my annoyance jumped three more levels. She was literally running from me now. No one ran from me. Women ran to me. A few of them had literally launched themselves in my direction a time or two.
And this confusing little fraud was leaping over park benches to get away from me. I pushed on the gas, turning another corner, well on my way to heading her off at the only exit that wasn’t fenced in. I would park at the end of the path she was currently sprinting along with her barking bevy of pups and—“Holy shit!”
My body jerked as something punched me in the face, the sound of crunching metal ripping through my ears followed by the sound of gushing water. I blinked, attempting to figure out what the hell just happened as I batted at the balloon obscuring my vision.
No, not a balloon. My airbag. Oh shit, I’d hit something. I’d crashed. I pushed at the airbag again, now deflating and making it easier to see and then opened my car door, stepped out, and was almost instantly taken down by a forceful spray of water.
“What the fuck?” I choked, using my hands to try to shield myself from the spray I could now see was coming from the fire hydrant I’d crashed into.
I fought my way out of the spray, coming to stand next to my smoking car still hitched on the red hydrant, breathing hard and soaked to the bone.
“Gage? Are you okay?” Heath McGonigal—owner of a local lunch spot by the lake—asked, his mouth agape. A group of joggers and early birds had stopped to see what was going on, and at the back of the small crowd, I saw Rory, her eyes glued to me as she struggled to get the overexcited dogs under control.
Her mouth hung open, as she stared at me with…concern. She startled as I met her wide-eyed gaze and began to turn.
Oh, no, you don’t.
Behind me, I heard a car door slam and turned to see Travis Hale exiting his police vehicle. I let out a breath, turning back to Rory who was walking hurriedly away, shooting looks back over her shoulder as though she expected me to follow. Which I absolutely would have, had the chief of police of Pelion not shown up.
“Gage? What the hell happened?” he asked as he came up beside me.
I ran a hand over my wet hair. “I hit a fire hydrant.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” He glanced next to us where the arc of water was hitting the ground and creating a growing puddle. “I didn’t think an early morning meeting with the Calliope Police Chief would result in anything interesting, but here we are,” he said, looking me over. “The fire department is on their way to shut that off. Have you been drinking?”
I turned toward him. “It’s seven thirty in the morning.”
He let out a short grunt, his gaze moving over my face as lines appeared between his brows. “I’m just trying to figure out how you hit a fire hydrant that’s inside the park.”
I looked back, noticing that I’d veered off the road and driven into the park as I’d tracked Rory and her out of control canine posse.
Shit. I was lucky I’d hit a fire hydrant and not a person. I let out a long sigh and ran my hand over the bare bit of scruff on my jaw. What was happening to me? “I got distracted. I’ll pay for the fire hydrant and whatever services are necessary to fix it, of course.”
Travis leaned forward and peered at me as though something was written on my face that he was trying to read. I looked away just as the roar of a large truck sounded behind us.
The fire department was here, along with a Calliope police officer. I looked to the place where Rory had just been walking away with the dogs, but they’d already turned out of sight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rory
The distant sound of violin music filtered into the library where Faith and I sat, waiting not so patiently for Mrs. Edna Ramsbottom.
Rory Ramsbottom, I repeated in my mind.
Hmm. That would be…somewhat unfortunate.
But regardless, if my search ended here, at the Ramsbottom Estate, I’d be grateful to have solved the mystery of my origin story.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Mrs. Ramsbottom said as she swept gracefully into the room. I’d heard it joked somewhere that women of a certain upper echelon learned to walk with books piled on their heads for poise and I was beginning to believe it was true. Each woman we’d met with so far had such stellar posture. That sort of thing had to be practiced. Certainly the spine didn’t do that naturally? Speaking of which…I straightened and brought my shoulders back, and then crossed my legs at the ankles as I smiled politely at Mrs. Ramsbottom. “My grandson’s violin lesson is today as you can hear, and he wanted me to listen to the piece he’s been practicing.” She took a seat across from us in a matching high-backed red velvet chair and smoothed her pleated skirt.
“No apology necessary,” Faith said. “We’ve been enjoying this gorgeous room. It’s a marvel.” I nodded in agreement as I glanced around at the orderly shelves of books that reached to the ceiling. It really was a dream. As we’d waited, I’d taken the opportunity to look more closely at a few of the titles and saw that there was a whole section devoted to Shakespeare. The Casteels of former generations would have been in heaven. I myself didn’t currently have a lot of reading time, but if I were rich and had no need to work doubles and overtime and weekends and holidays, forget the tennis club or bridge with the ladies, I’d spend all my time reading and playing with my dogs. I let out a soft wistful sigh, bringing myself back to reality where I was not a lady who lunched but rather…well, a lady who served others their lunch from a decades-old griddle in a tavern on the docks.
For now.
