different pens and, of course, I ghostwrite for a lot of other name authors when I have time in my schedule. But I love writing these history books. I think so much is being destroyed without us ever knowing what our past could tell us.”
I put the card in my pocket and watched him. The man seemed honest enough. “You said someone told you about the Mission Wall. Was it Frank Gleason?”
“No. That guy is as tight with information as Fort Knox. He thinks everything he works on is confidential. But it was someone in his office. I can’t tell you their name because I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
“But it’s a woman?” I took stock of the man in front of me. He probably did really well at signings. He was good-looking and personable.
He rubbed the side of his face with his hand and grimaced. “I’m really not good at keeping secrets. I’d make a terrible spy. But don’t make me tell you. I’d feel horrible if she got fired or something because of the stupid rules.”
I wanted to say that sometimes rules weren’t stupid, and that I didn’t want people coming by the house to find the rumored hidden treasure. Mostly because what treasure there had been, I’d already found. “Look, I appreciate your honesty, but let me be up front too. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want the Mission Wall to be in a travel guide. And I don’t want you in my life anymore. Thanks for asking, but the answer is no.”
As I started to walk away, he called after me. “Keep the card and think about it. You might change your mind.”
I didn’t think that was possible, but I needed to warn Greg that Mike the writer was in town and wanted to interview us for this book. Even though Greg didn’t actually own my house, he’d be shown as the owner or friend of the owner. No, it was better for us to have a united front from the first day of this.
United front. I kind of liked the idea. Emma and I finished our run and headed back to the house to get some things done before dinner. Normal, everyday, couple-type things. I’d like our lives to be boring for a few weeks, or even months. A girl could hope, right?
Chapter 2
Greg grabbed the pile of mail I’d left on the kitchen table and did his own sort. I paid the bills for the house, then he sent me his share every payday. We also had a couples travel account that we put extra money in when it came. Right now, we were saving for an Alaskan cruise. My aunt had made noises about wanting to go with us, but I was hoping to keep it just a couple thing. As soon as she asked Greg, though, I knew it would be a done deal. The man may fight criminals for his day job, but he was no match for my aunt when she wanted something.
“Did you see this letter from the Heritage Society?” He held up the business-sized envelope.
I stopped chopping veggies for a salad and reached out for the envelope. “Let me have it.”
Greg handed it over and I put it up to my head. “I see the following. ‘Dear Ms. Gardner. The commission is significantly behind in our historic site evaluation and processing backlog. Please be sure that we are doing everything possible to complete your evaluation as soon as possible due to funding limitations. We will be in touch again in six months to let you know the status of your application. Feel free to contact us directly with any questions. Yours in magic, Mathilda Parker.’”
“Almost a nice Potter reference, but I don’t believe her last name was Parker. That was Spider-Man.” Greg snatched the letter from the spot on the table where I’d tossed it after my show.
“I don’t know why I even let anyone talk me into this. The decision takes so long.” I went back to chopping the cabbage for the salad.
“Because you’re a good citizen, and if there is proof that the wall in your backyard is part of South Cove’s history, you’d move heaven and earth to save it.” He opened the letter himself. “I hate to say it, but your psychic powers are way off the map.”
“What do you mean?” I didn’t even turn around. It was probably a letter stating the commission was moving or