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ChapterTwenty-Seven
“Admit it. You don’t remember.” Alana spread her hands across the dock, her body still in the sailboat as she peered up at this iconic sailor-type, the once-great football player, Jeremy Farley.
Jeremy was exasperated, his cheeks slightly sunburnt and his smile enormous. “Okay! Alana. I admit that I don’t remember exactly what we did on our very first date when we were, what, fifteen years old. Sue me.”
Jeremy’s hand dropped down. Alana gripped it, allowing herself to be helped back to dry land. She dipped against him, her hips falling onto his thigh and her lips so terribly close to his that she ached. She was slightly tipsy from their three-hour sailing ride across the Nantucket Sound, windswept and caked with salt. Her heart brimmed with a happiness she’d hardly known in years.
“So, tell me,” Jeremy murmured lovingly. “Tell me what our first date was.”
Suddenly, Alana burst into laughter, rollicking with it.
“Oh my gosh! You don’t remember!” Jeremy accused.
“So what? Sue me,” Alana shot back, giggling madly.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, his smile a constant as he tied up the boat and gathered the picnic basket. “You are ridiculous, you know that? Even twenty-seven years apart couldn’t change that.”
It had been a miraculous first date. Alana and Jeremy walked arm-in-arm down the dock toward swarms of tourists along the boardwalk, chatting amicably about nothing in particular. It was one of those blissful summer days that demanded no intellect, nothing but sweet delight and laughter.
As they rounded the corner toward The Copperfield House, Jeremy confessed that Sarah had given him Alana’s number nearly a week ago, a time that had been particularly panicky for him. “I had no idea if you’d say yes,” he explained.
Alana’s smile widened. “She didn’t mention it when I got coffee with her the other day.”
“I’m sure she was dying to tell you,” Jeremy said. “She caught me stalking you on the internet.”
Alana howled. “Having a teenage daughter must be rough. Sarah, in particular. She can see all the way through you.”
“Tell me about it.”
All the way down the road at The Copperfield House, Julia’s SUV was parked in its familiar spot once again. Alana’s heart lifted with excitement as she explained that Julia had been in Chicago for the previous nine days, tying up loose ends, renting out her place, and creating a strategy for the release of Bernard’s next “bestseller.”
“Bestseller, huh?” Jeremy asked.
“That’s our hope,” Alana said, furrowing her brow. “He certainly deserves it.”
“You really think he didn’t take all that money?” Jeremy asked, cocking his head. His eyes glowed with genuine curiosity.
Alana shrugged. “We honestly don’t know. We’ve been looking into it. And, well. We have a potential suspect.”
“Are you going to share those juicy details with me?” Jeremy asked.
“Who knows? Let’s see how the next date goes,” Alana teased.
When they reached the lush green grass of the front yard of The Copperfield House, Jeremy gripped Alana’s hand knowingly. His lips brushed across her cheek, as though he had to physically stop himself from kissing her madly. Alana was weak at the knees from the intensity of their connection.
“Hey!” A voice rang out from the front porch.
Alana whipped around, feeling foolish, like a teenage girl who’d just been caught kissing. “Julia!” She tugged on Jeremy’s hand and guided him up the front steps, where Julia wore a confused and curious smile, her keys jangling in her hands.
“Jeremy, hello!” Julia greeted him. “Thank you again for getting those files over to us.”
Jeremy palmed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed at his behavior. “Don’t mention it. I just hope they can be of help.”
Alana’s heart brimmed. “That reminds me,” she murmured. “I have to show you something.”
Jeremy and Julia yelped in unison, “What is it?”
But Alana just shook her head. “This is Copperfield matters only, Jeremy Farley.” To Julia, she continued, “I have been dying to call you to show you what I found.”
