Page 91 of Old Flames

“That’s complicated.”

“Want to know the guy’s name?” he asked. “Leonardo or Leopold or some shit.”

Jules jerked away from him. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“And the servant girl? Do you know her name?”

“Nope,” he repeated. “But according to Amaris, the shame of losing out to a lowly servant might’ve driven Aurora over the edge.”

“You mean a Black girl,” Jules said. Unless the servant was a governess imported from Europe, it was more likely a Black girl imported from Africa or the Caribbean.

Leo went still. Why else would Aurora react so violently? The girl’s race should have disqualified her from the romance Olympics. Her sole function would have been to serve and make do with whatever scraps were thrown her way. To lose out to such a rival would have been inconceivable. Aurora’s humiliation would have been complete.

“Could this be his message to Aurora, apologizing for being messy?” Jules asked. “Maybe he’s aware that she’s been trapped in this house, wandering these halls, and he wants her to know that he’s waiting on the other side.”

“That’s one theory,” Leo said. “I’d like to have more information on the servant girl. I’m not willing to discount his feelings for her. That’s likely the mistake Aurora made.”

Jules lost her fingers in his thick hair as she considered their options. “We need more information.”

“Emily once mentioned that she researched all the romantic ghost stories,” Leo said.

“This one would fall in that category,” Jules said. “Want to stop by the bookstore and ask?”

“Sure.” Leo snapped the notebook shut. “We keep this to ourselves.”

“Of course,” Jules said. “Who’d believe us?”

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“May I, please?” he asked, before gathering the T-shirt at the hem and slipping it over her head.

Jules twisted in his lap and offered herself to the free exploration of his hands and his tongue. He coaxed an answer, a blanket “yes” to anything and everything he wanted.

31

Emily spotted them before the bell above the bookshop door chimed. She rushed over, weighed down by the stack of books cradled in her arms. “What are you two still doing here?” she asked. “I thought for sure you’d leave the minute the conference was over.”

“Someone has to pick up where Hemingway left off,” Leo deadpanned.

“Oh, please do!” Emily implored them. “I hope you both stay, get a villa, and fill it with artist friends. Start a salon. That would be iconic.”

Why does that sound so enticing? Leo wondered. For months, he’d been feeling directionless. Apparently, he only needed an idealistic twenty-two-year-old to point the way.

July was already moving the conversation forward. “I’m hoping you could help us with some research. We’re interested in the history of our inn, The Aurora. With so many ghost stories swirling about, we wondered what you knew.”

“I’m not surprised you have questions,” Emily said. “The ghost tours gloss over that property because there are so many more salacious stories to tell. Tomb robbers, pirates, polygamists, and all that. But The Aurora has its own twisted history, and it’s fascinating. There are several versions of that one story. It all depends on whom you ask.”

“You’re busy,” July said. “Could we meet later to discuss it?”

“My lunch break is coming up in half an hour. If you’d like, I’ll meet you at The Pink Pelican at the corner. We’ll go through my notes.”

“See you there,” Leo said.

The eatery was a popular lunch spot. While they waited for a table, an older couple approached. Husband and wife wore baseball caps boasting their newly retired status. Leo recognized them as fellow guests at The Aurora. He’d seen them lounging about. When he mentioned it, they set him straight.