Page 68 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Especially after the kiss in the car, she realized, which had been awake this time, for the love of mercy, instead of asleep.

By the time Brec and Miss Lilly came down for dinner, Molly was two Singapore Slings in and feeling a whole lot more relaxed thanks to the fresh mango, pineapple, and lime juice flooding her system with their anxiety-reducing benefits.

“So, how’s the birthday girl doing?” Miss Lilly asked, a sleepy smile on her face while Brec followed her down the steps. “Did you enjoy yourself with Sloan?”

“I did.” Pressing the off button on the TV remote, Molly bounded up from the sofa to gather Miss Lilly in a tight hug, squeezing her with all her might. “First you fix me pumpkin pancakes and bacon for breakfast, then give me the latest Lauren Daigle CD and my favorite candy—”

“Had to badger Catfish for ideas,” Miss Lilly confessed with a proud smile, “so Brec picked the CD and dark-chocolate almonds up for me, but the pancakes were all mine.” A twinkle lit her eyes as she leaned close, voice low as if sharing a secret. “Chase said they’re one of your favorites.”

“Oh, they are!” She hooked her arm through Miss Lilly’s to usher her into the kitchen, where Brec was carving a golden-brown turkey—her dinner request for her birthday. “Although I will admit my favorites list has expanded considerably since Brec’s come to stay.”

His gaze collided with hers as he slid her a shuttered smile. “Naturally,” he said, popping a piece of turkey in his mouth. “Here.” He tossed one to her and then to Miss Lilly, all but beaming when they both moaned with pleasure. “Although how turkey and dressing qualifies as one’s favorite meal in the whole world, is something I will never understand.”

By the time she’d consumed Brec’s bourbon and brown sugar turkey and homemade dressing, complete with the best sweet potato casserole she’d ever tasted, balsamic asparagus to die for, and cranberries in a champagne reduction, Molly couldn’t move. All she could do was slant back with eyes closed and head resting against her chair, a contented smile on her lips. And the top button of her jeans discreetly undone. “Honestly, Brec if your spirituality was as gourmet as your meals, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you, Princess,” he said with a wry smile, not passing up the opportunity to tweak her neck while carrying dirty dishes to the sink. “But I don’t remember asking.”

True. Cheeks warm, Molly jumped up to help carry dishes.

“No, ma’am.” Brec immediately took them from her hands and arched a brow. “You sit your little birthday bottom right down again, missy, while I clear the table.”

Chuckling, Miss Lilly bounced up just as Molly sat back down. “He gets a mite bossy when he cooks, that’s for darn sure.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Brec stopped Miss Lilly in her tracks with a wag of his finger, delivering the same evil eye. “You, too, missy, because this is my dinner start to finish, understood?”

Miss Lilly shook her head and plopped right back down in her chair with a chuckle. “See? Bossy.”

Brec paused as he removed the last of the dirty dishes, gaze flicking from Miss Lilly to Molly and back. “Might I mention, ladies, that the temperature is dropping fast, both outside and in. So I suggest you show a little gratitude if you want to warm things up with my signature peppermint white hot chocolate, a frothy delight that would make Starbucks weep.”

That wiped the smile off Molly’s face quick enough—and Miss Lilly’s—although the twinkle in their eyes remained. “Thank-you-Chef McGill,” they said in schoolroom unison.

“Much better,” he said with a smirk, disappearing into the kitchen while Miss Lilly and Molly chatted about her date with Sloan, finishing up just as Brec placed mugs of peppermint white-chocolate cocoa before them, mounded high with whipped cream that sparkled with a mysterious sugar-pink swirl.

“Oh, yum!” Molly took a sip, unable to contain a moan. “Wowza, Beck, this could seal the deal if you were a church-going boy.”

“Still haven’t asked, Princess,” he said with a lazy smile, slowly rolling a spoonful of whipped cream in his mouth while he licked it clean.

“Speaking of asking …” Setting her cup of hot white chocolate down, Miss Lilly patted whipped cream off her mouth. “Did you ask Sloan how the investigation is going?”

“I did …” Molly said slowly as she set her own mug down, the subject stealing some of the joy of the evening. “He said he’s interviewed Pete and Pastor Dave several times and Alan once when he was in for his reunion last week, each separately.”

“And?” Brec swiped at a smidge of whipped cream with his tongue, distracting Molly considerably.

She cleared her throat and looked away, taking an abrupt swig of her water. “All three confirmed the belt belonged to Greg, which is why photos corroborating their story are so important.” Her gaze flicked to Brec in a silent message, hoping he would volunteer to sort through his own family’s photo albums. But his eyes just diverted to his mug, staring aimlessly at the remaining swirls of cream on top.

Drawing in a deep breath, she offered Miss Lilly a faint smile. “The good news, if there’s any at all in this awful situation, is that all three confirmed Greg had fallen in with a rough crowd in college, which shifts the suspicion away from the Lads. Apparently this crowd dabbled in drugs—”

Miss Lilly gasped. “Oh, no!”

Commiserating with a look of sympathy for the woman who had nurtured all of these boys, Molly continued. “Yes, so they all seem to think it was related to that somehow. Which means if true,” she said, hoping to lessen the sting, “then the Lads wouldn’t be suspect anymore.”

“Oh, glory be, let it be so,” Miss Lilly whispered with a hand to her chest, unable to fathom, Molly knew, that any of “her boys” could be involved in anything like this.

Brow puckered, Brec angled back in his chair with a fold of arms, legs stretched under the table. “So, how does that square with Roy’s death?”

Molly’s heavy sigh lingered in the air. “Well, Sloan’s investigation also revealed that both Roy and Pete had shady dealings going on with loan sharks in the past that could be Mafia-related, so Pete suspects Roy got in over his head with gambling after his wife died and needed fast money. He also claims that once in a drunken stupor, Roy mentioned how he wished he could get his hands on Uncle Hal’s collection since Aunt Lilly sure didn’t need it. So Pete thinks he may have been responsible for the break-ins, either directly or hiring some kid to do it.”

“Roy would never try and hurt me,” Miss Lilly piped up with a thrust of her chin, “or hire anybody to toss me in the drink.”

Molly’s gaze softened as she reached to give the old woman’s shoulder a quick rub. “I don’t think so either, Miss Lilly, which is why I’m prone to stick with our original scenario of you sleepwalking during a nightmare.”

“Humph. Sure felt real enough,” she muttered as she took another taste of her hot chocolate.

“It certainly can feel that way.” Commiserating with a sympathetic smile, Molly continued, her sobriety settling in once again. “So when Roy couldn’t pay up?”—she fought off a cold chill with another taste of hot chocolate—“Pete thinks the Mafia murdered him and set fire to him and his house to cover up any involvement.”

Miss Lilly shivered. “As awful as that sounds, I’m mighty relieved to hear the Lads may be in the clear, and I know Muriel will be too. Especially given Alan’s and Greg’s history.”

“What history?” Molly said with a scrunch of brows.

Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, Miss Lilly set it back down and leaned in with arms on the table and hands circling her mug. “Well, I didn’t know this, but apparently there was a squabble of sorts between Greg and Alan after graduation over Marla, Alan’s girlfriend at the time. You see, Marla and Greg were good friends all through high school, and Muriel seems to think they might have been more than friends if Greg and his family weren’t poor as church mice. But they were, so Marla dated Alan instead, who was from one of the wealthiest families in Savannah. But when Alan and his family went on a grand voyage most of the summer after college graduation, apparently Marla and Greg got pretty close as volunteers at Camp Hope, a summer camp for ill and handicapped orphans.”

Twirling her mug, Miss Lilly glanced up with a pointed gaze. “Too close, according to Muriel because she overhead Marla and Alan arguing about it over the phone before he left for college, almost like Marla wanted to break it off. So when Greg just up and disappeared that fall, Marla was devastated, which is when Alan came to the rescue, of course, getting her through a pretty rough patch.”

Molly’s gaze connected with Brec’s and instantly she saw the same question in his eyes that she felt in her gut. And the same question that now haunted her mind.

To Marla’s rescue?

Or to his own?