“Oh, wow. That is…extensive.” Who needed so many people researching a home built in the 1930s? “Is it a big team?”
“Just four, but they are highly dedicated to the craft. We want to preserve as much history as possible.”
Dane moved in behind me, pretending to inspect the shrubs around the home’s large porch. He really didn’t find the sixty-year-old woman, who had to weigh less than a hundred pounds, a threat. Did he?
Four dedicated researchers seemed like a pretty sizeable group to me, but I wasn’t in the field. How many did other places employ?
An idea hit me as I searched for my next question. “Do they hire often? I’d love to get into research on a professional level.”
I didn’t want to work here, but maybe William did. He already had the research part down, and he was a local historian. Giving walking tours three nights a week and running a local blog couldn’t have paid many bills.
“No, I’m sorry. We don’t have any openings right now. They rarely become available and are highly competitive. We had a spot earlier this year, but it’s been filled.”
How much could I push and get away with?
“I used to read a blog by a local here who mentioned the home often. It’s possible he’s on the team now. What was his name? Do you remember, sweetheart?”
“Delaney,” Dane said using his watch-yourself voice.
I laughed. “Well, do you? I can’t remember. Was it Will something? Bill?”
The woman’s eyes lit up with excitement before clouding over. “I’m sorry to say that poor Will passed away. He would have been a wonderful addition to our team. William was here often.”
“He had the job?”
“Well…” She thought for a minute. “I’m not sure, but he was definitely in the running.”
Hmm. Why post he had big news from Boone Hall if he didn’t get the job?
I gave her quick thanks and let Dane lead me into the gift shop on the property.
“You understand what this means. Right?” I asked when we were in a small corner away from everyone else.
He shook his head. “No, and the more I think about it, the more I really don’t want to.”
8
Our Uber turned onto one of the major streets in the tourist area of Charleston. I didn’t remember the name, though we’d passed by it many times before. We were getting close to our place.
“The person who got the job at Boone after William’s death is top of the suspect list,” I said as Dane tracked our car on the Uber map.
His head bobbed in agreement. “Absolutely, babe.”
“Huh?”
He turned his attention to me. “What?”
“What did you just call me?” And why was my chest tight about it?
Dane thought for a moment and shrugged. “Did I call you something?”
“Babe. You called me babe.” He didn’t realize it? What did that mean?
His eyes widened. “Oh, sorry.”
Were we so comfortable with one another that he just casually called me babe now? Did I like it?
Kind of.
