Runaway Wolfes of Manhattan Three - Helen Hardt Page 0,18

Lucas were chuckling.

“Not for the meek,” Lucas said.

I was certain my throat was on fire.

12

Matteo

I couldn’t help a raucous laugh. “We warned you!”

Riley coughed and sputtered as she downed her water. Mrs. Carson hurriedly brought her a new glass, which she downed as well.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mrs. C said.

“It’s…okay,” Riley choked out.

“It’ll pass,” Matt said. “Then you’ll realize how good it is.”

“It’s already good. Delicious, actually. Just really”—she coughed—“hot.”

“That’s the best part.” I smiled. “Mrs. C has it down to a science. Some food is just hot and you can’t actually taste the flavor. With Mrs. C’s you can.”

She nodded and took another drink of water.

“It’s best to start slowly,” Mrs. C said. “I should have given you a mixture of the mild and hot.”

“It’s okay.” Riley’s voice was raspy. “It really is delicious.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Carson winked. “I hope Mattie will bring you over again while you’re here. When do you leave?”

“In six days,” Riley said.

“Such a brief stay. That’s not near enough time to get the full Sumter Falls experience. I wish you could stay longer.”

“I have to get back to work,” Riley said.

Back to work? This was summer. If Riley was a high school business ed teacher…

As I suspected all along.

Riley Mansfield was hiding things.

And I intended to find out what they were.

“I can’t thank you boys enough,” Mrs. C said to Luke and me.

“Anything for you,” Luke said.

“Ditto.” I downed the last of my beer and then looked to Riley. “If you’ve recovered, I’ll take you back to the cabin.”

She nodded. “I’m good. Thank you for the lunch, Mrs. Carson.”

“Thank you for helping the boys, dear.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She wasn’t lying. Riley had truly enjoyed pounding those nails. Talk about getting your frustrations out. Now I just had to figure out who she’d been pounding.

We walked outside to my truck.

An idea struck.

I had a little shop in town for my silversmithing. Normally I opened only by appointment, but during the summer, I hired a high school kid to man the store for me. In a small town there just wasn’t a lot of demand for silver, but tourists loved it and I did a great business during the summer. Most of the items I crafted for sale were Native American designs, as those sold the best. But I also created my own designs.

Smithing was my passion, though it wasn’t my main source of income. I did odd jobs, and my rental brought in a nice cushion as well. I’d grown accustomed to living basically. Walden by Henry David Thoreau had become my bible. I tried to spend as much time as I could outdoors and not get bogged down by the small stuff. I had a place to sleep, food in my belly, and a love of life.

My shop was ultimately me.

And I wanted to show it to Riley.

I pulled into the alley behind my little shop.

“I thought you were taking me back to the cabin,” Riley said.

“I am, but we’re making a detour. I want to show you something.”

“Okay.”

We got out of the truck and went into the shop via the back door. The kid I’d hired for the summer, Blue—yes, that was actually her name—sat behind the counter texting on her phone. She blew a huge pink bubble and let it pop over her lips.

“Afternoon, Blue. How’s business today?”

“Hi, Matt. Not bad. Slow now, but people are still having lunch. I sold two pendants, four pairs of earrings, and a bolo tie this morning.”

Earrings were always my biggest seller. “Nice. This is Riley.”

“Hey.” Blue cracked her gum.

“Hi,” Riley said.

“This is my shop,” I told her.

She widened her eyes. “Your shop?”

“Did I not tell you I work with silver?”

“You did. I guess I just never realized you actually sold it.” Riley swept her hand over the glass encasing the finer jewelry. “This is beautiful work, Matt.”

“I’m glad you like it. Pick one. Anything, and it’s yours.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Sure you can.”

She zeroed in on a heart pendant with a pink sapphire accent on either side. “You made this?”

“Guilty.”

“I can’t believe it. That’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen at Tiffany’s.”

Tiffany’s? How many business ed teachers were familiar with the fine jewelry at Tiffany’s?

Riley Mansfield, what the hell are you hiding?

“It’s yours,” I said.

“How much is it?”

None of my finer pieces had price tags. Well, they did, but I made sure they weren’t visible in the display case. That way, a person had to ask, and Blue would get it out and look at the price