a rundown of what’s new in town, at least tell me what your favorite place is?”
“Oh…I don’t go out that much,” she demurred. “Except for the farmers’ market downtown. It’s open Saturday mornings. But if you’re trying to find some excellent honey, you’ll probably be out of luck.”
“I’m sure my grandfather still has plenty.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“There are a few jars in the cupboard, but I haven’t checked the honey shed yet. I’ve been too busy fixing up the place. I mean, a palace like this doesn’t just happen by accident.”
This time she smiled, if a tad reluctantly. She nodded toward the dock. “Have you gone out in the boat yet?”
I haven’t yet mentioned the boat, but suffice it to say that it was a lot like the house, only in worse condition. Even calling it a boat was somewhat generous, because it looked less like a boat than an outhouse and two vinyl recliners, all bolted to a floating platform. My grandfather built it using discarded oil drums and lumber of varying sizes—along with whatever else he could find—and when he wasn’t checking on the bees, he was always tinkering with it.
“Not yet. I’m not sure the engine even works.”
“I know it was working last summer, because Carl told me. It’s kind of a hard boat to miss and your grandfather loved to take it out. People take photos of it whenever they see it.”
“It is a bit eccentric, isn’t it?”
“It suited him, though.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “It did.”
She sighed and stood. “I really should be going. I’ve got some things to do at home. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Benson.”
Mr. Benson? I had hoped we’d moved beyond that, but I guess not. She started down the steps, reaching the bottom in the same instant my brain finally kicked back into gear.
“You don’t have to walk around the back and side of the house. You can go through to the front door if it’s easier.”
“Thank you, but I’ll just retrace my steps. Have a good evening.”
“You too. And it was nice meeting you, Natalie.”
She raised an eyebrow before turning away; with a couple of quick steps, she vanished from sight. After a few beats, I heard a door slam in the driveway and her vehicle start up. All of which left me contemplating the intriguing Natalie Masterson. That she was beautiful, anyone would notice, but what I found interesting about her was how little she’d told me about herself.
It’s been said that women are the mysterious sex, and even now, my first inclination is to laugh when a guy I’m talking to says he understands what makes women tick. I was flummoxed by the one-sided nature of the conversation. I’d told her a lot about myself but had learned almost nothing about her.
I did, however, have a hunch that I would see her again, if only because I knew just where I might find her.
Chapter 3
In the morning I went for a run, something I hadn’t been consistent about since arriving in town. I would tell myself that I had more important things to do—like spreading mothballs to keep snakes away—but the simple truth is that I don’t always enjoy exercising. I know all the benefits—I’m a doctor, remember?—but unless I was chasing or dribbling a soccer ball, running always seemed kind of silly to me.
But I did it. Six miles at a steady pace; when I finished, I did a hundred push-ups and sit-ups. After a quick shower and a bite to eat, I was ready to face the day. Of course, since I technically had no real responsibilities, I decided on another quick survey of the house to check if anything was missing. Which was something of an impossible task, since I hadn’t known what had been in the house when he’d left town, and I’d already cleaned out the place. In the closet, I spotted the shotgun again and found the shells; there was no other ammunition, which led me to believe there’d been no other weapons. In a box under the bed in the guest room, however, I discovered a wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band, beneath a thick envelope that held various documents and photographs of my grandmother’s—social security card, medical records concerning her epilepsy, things like that. It wasn’t a lot of money—enough for a couple of fancy dinners maybe—but definitely enough to entice someone who might want money for drugs or booze. Had someone been there, it would