The following morning after showering under a lukewarm trickle of water, Jeremy slipped on a pair of jeans, sweater, and brown leather jacket and made his way to Herbs, which seemed to be the most popular breakfast place in town. At the counter, he noticed Mayor Gherkin talking to a couple of men dressed in suits, and Rachel was busy working the tables. Jed was seated on the far side of the room, looking like the back side of a mountain. Tully was sitting at one of the center tables with three other men and, as could be expected, was doing most of the talking. People nodded and waved as Jeremy wound through the tables, and the mayor raised his coffee cup in salute.

 

“Well, good morning, Mr. Marsh,” Mayor Gherkin called out. “Thinking of positive things to write about our town, I hope?”

 

“I’m sure he is,” Rachel chimed in.

 

“Hope you found the cemetery,” Tully drawled. He leaned toward the others at his table. “That there’s the doctor I was telling you about.”

 

Jeremy waved and nodded back, trying to avoid getting corralled into a conversation. He’d never been a morning person, and on top of that, he hadn’t slept well. Ice and death, coupled with nightmares about snakes, could do that to a person. He took a seat in the corner booth, and Rachel moved to the table with

 

efficiency, carrying a pot of coffee with her.

 

“No funeral today?” she teased.

 

“No. I decided to go with a more casual look,” he explained.

 

“Coffee, darlin’?”

 

“Please.”

 

After flipping the cup, she filled it to the brim. “Would you like the special this mornin’? People have been ravin’ about it.”

 

“What is the special?”

 

“A Carolina omelet.”

 

“Sure,” he said, having no idea what was in a Carolina omelet, but with his stomach growling, anything sounded good.

 

“With grits and a biscuit?”

 

“Why not?” he said.

 

“Be back in a few minutes, darlin’.”

 

Jeremy began nursing his coffee while perusing yesterday’s newspaper. All four pages of it, including a big front-page story on a Ms. Judy Roberts, who’d just celebrated her hundredth birthday, a milestone now reached by 1.1 percent of the population. Along with the article was a picture of the staff at the nursing home holding a cupcake with a single lit candle atop it, as Ms. Roberts lay in the bed behind them, looking comatose.

 

He glanced through the window, wondering why he’d even bothered with the local paper. There was a vending machine out front offering USA Today, and he was reaching into his pocket to look for change when a uniformed deputy took a seat directly across the table from him.

 

The man looked both angry and extremely fit; his biceps swelled the seams of his shirt, and he wore mirrored sunglasses that had gone out of style . . . oh, twenty years ago, Jeremy guessed, right after CHiPS went off the air. His hand rested on his holster, right atop a gun. In his mouth was a toothpick, which he moved from one side to the other. He said nothing at all, preferring to simply stare, giving Jeremy plenty of time to

 

study his own reflection.

 

It was, Jeremy had to admit, sort of intimidating.

 

“Can I help you?” Jeremy asked.

 

The toothpick moved from side to side again. Jeremy closed the newspaper, wondering what on earth was going on.

 

“Jeremy Marsh?” the officer intoned.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thought so,” he said.

 

Above the officer’s breast pocket, Jeremy noticed a shiny bar with the name engraved on it. Yet another name tag.

 

“And you must be Sheriff Hopper?”

 

“Deputy Hopper,” he corrected.

 

“Sorry,” Jeremy said. “Have I done something wrong, Officer?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hopper said. “Have you?”

 

“Not that I know of.”

 

Deputy Hopper moved the toothpick again. “You planning to stick around for a while?”

 

“Just for a week or so. I’m here to write an article—”

 

“I know why you’re here,” Hopper interrupted. “I just thought I’d check it out myself. I like to visit with strangers who are planning to hang around for a while.”

 

He put the emphasis on the word “stranger,” making Jeremy feel it was some sort of crime. He wasn’t quite sure that any response would diffuse the hostility, so he fell back on the obvious.

 

“Ah,” he said.

 

“I hear you intend to spend a lot of time at the library.”

 

“Well . . . I guess I might—”

 

“Mmm,” the deputy rumbled, cutting him off again.

 

Jeremy reached for his coffee cup and took a sip, buying time. “I’m sorry, Deputy Hopper, but I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here.”

 

“Mmm,” Hopper said again.

 

“Now, you’re not hassling our guest, are you, Rodney?” the mayor called out from across the room. “He’s a special visitor, here to drum up interest in the local folklore.”

 

Deputy Hopper didn’t flinch or turn his gaze away from Jeremy. For whatever reason, he looked downright angry. “Just visiting with him, Mayor.”

 

“Well, let the man enjoy his breakfast,” Gherkin chided, moving toward the table. He waved a hand. “Come on over here, Jeremy. I’ve got a couple of people I’d like you to meet.”

 

Deputy Hopper scowled as Jeremy rose from the table and made his way toward Mayor Gherkin.

 

When he was close, the mayor introduced him to two people; one was the almost emaciated county lawyer, the other a heavyset physician who worked at the local medical clinic. Both seemed to evaluate him in the same way that Deputy Hopper had. Reserving judgment, as they say. Meanwhile, the mayor was going on about how exciting Jeremy’s visit was for the town. Leaning toward the other two, he nodded conspiratorially.

 

“Might even end up on Primetime Live,” he whispered.

 

“Really?” the lawyer said. Jeremy figured the guy could easily pass for a skeleton.

 

Jeremy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, as I was trying to explain to the mayor yesterday—”

 

Mayor Gherkin slapped him on the back, cutting him off.

 

“Very exciting,” Mayor Gherkin added. “Major television exposure.”

 

The others nodded, their faces solemn.

 

“And speaking of the town,” the mayor suddenly added, “I’d like to invite you to a little get-together dinner this evening with a few close friends. Nothing too extravagant, of course, but since you’ll be here for a few days, I’d like to give you the chance to get to know some of the folks around here.”

 

Jeremy held up his hands. “That’s not really necessary . . .”

 

“Nonsense,” Mayor Gherkin said. “It’s the least we can do.

 

And, remember, some of these people I’m inviting have seen those ghosts, and you’ll have the chance to pick their collective brains. Their stories might even give you nightmares.”

 

He raised his eyebrows; the lawyer and the physician waited expectantly. When Jeremy hesitated, it was all the mayor needed to conclude.

 

“Say about seven o’clock?” he said.

 

“Yeah . . . sure. I guess that’s fine,” Jeremy agreed. “Where’s the dinner going to be?”

 

“I’ll let you know a little later. I assume you’ll be at the library, right?”

 

“Probably.”

 

The mayor raised his eyebrows. “So I take it you’ve already met our fine librarian, Miss Lexie?”

 

“I have, yes.”

 

“She’s quite impressive, isn’t she?”

 

There was just a hint of other possibilities in the way he phrased it, something akin to locker-room talk.

 

“She’s been very helpful,” Jeremy said.

 

The lawyer and the physician smiled, but before the conversation went any further, Rachel came slithering by, just a little too close. Holding a plate, she nudged Jeremy.

 

“Come on, darlin’. I’ve got your breakfast right here.”

 

Jeremy glanced at the mayor.

 

“By all means,” Mayor Gherkin said, waving his hands.

 

Jeremy followed her back to the table. Thankfully, Deputy Hopper was gone by then, and Jeremy slid back into his seat. Rachel set the plate in front of him.

 

“You just enjoy that. I told ’em to make it extra special, since you’re visiting from New York City. I absolutely love that place!”

 

“Oh, you’ve been there?”

 

“Well, no. But I’ve always wanted to go. It seems so . . . glamorous and exciting.”

 

“You should go. It’s like nowhere else in the world.”

 

She smiled, looking coy. “Why, Mr. Marsh . . . is that an invitation?”

 

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. Huh?

 

Rachel, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice his expression. “Well, I just might want to take you up on that,” she twittered. “And I’d be glad to show you ’round the cemetery, any night you’d like to go. I’m usually finished here by three o’clock.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeremy mumbled.

 

Over the next twenty minutes, as Jeremy ate, Rachel came by a dozen times, refilling his coffee cup a quarter inch each time, smiling at him unrelentingly.

 

Jeremy made his way to his car, recovering from what was sup

 

posed to have been a leisurely breakfast.

 

Deputy Hopper. Mayor Gherkin. Tully. Rachel. Jed.

 

Small-town USA was way too much to deal with before coffee.

 

Tomorrow he’d just grab a cup of coffee somewhere else. He wasn’t sure eating at Herbs was worth it, even if the food was great. And, he had to admit, it was even better than he’d thought it would be. As Doris had said yesterday, it tasted fresh, like the ingredients had been gathered from the farm that morning.

 

Still, tomorrow would be coffee elsewhere. And not from Tully’s gas station, either, assuming he even had coffee. He didn’t want to get stuck in a conversation when he had other things to do.

 

He paused in midstep, amazed. Good Lord, he thought, I’m already thinking like a local.

 

He shook his head and retrieved his keys from his pocket as he walked toward the car. At least breakfast was over. Checking his watch, he saw that it was coming up on nine o’clock. Good.

 

Lexie found herself glancing out the window of her office the exact moment Jeremy Marsh pulled into the library parking lot.

 

Jeremy Marsh. Who’d continued to creep into her thoughts, even though she was trying to work. And just look at him now.

 

Trying to dress more casually to blend with folks around here, she supposed. And somehow he’d almost pulled it off.

 

But enough of that. She had work to do. Her office was lined with bookcases crammed from top to bottom: books piled every which way, vertical and horizontal. A steel-gray filing cabinet stood in the corner, and her desk and chair were typically functional. There was little in the office that was decorative, simply for lack of space, and paperwork was piled everywhere: in corners, beneath the window, on the extra chair perched in a corner. Large stacks were also present on her desk, which held everything she considered urgent.

 

The budget was due at the end of the month, and she had a stack of publishers’ catalogs to go through before placing her weekly order. Add to the list finding a speaker for the Friends of the Library luncheon in April and getting everything set for the Historic Homes Tour—of which the library was part, since at one point it was a historic home—and she barely had enough time to breathe. She had two full-time employees, but she’d learned that things worked best if she didn’t delegate. The employees were fine for recommending recent titles and helping students find what they were looking for, but the last time she’d let one of them decide what books to order, she’d ended up with six different titles about orchids, since that happened to be the employee’s favorite flower. Earlier, after taking a seat in front of her computer, she’d tried to lay out a plan for organizing her schedule, but she hadn’t gotten anywhere. No matter how hard she’d tried to squelch it, her mind kept wandering back to Jeremy Marsh. She didn’t want to think about him, but Doris had said just enough to pique her curiosity.

 

He’s not what you imagine him to be.

 

What was that supposed to mean? Last night, when she’d pressed, Doris had clammed up, as if she hadn’t said anything in the first place. She didn’t mention Lexie’s love life again, or Jeremy Marsh, either. Instead, they circled the topic: what happened at work, what was going on with people they knew, how the Historic Homes Tour was shaping up for the weekend. Doris was the chair of the Historical Society, and the tour was one of the big events of the year, not that it took a lot of planning. For the most part, the same dozen homes were chosen every year, in addition to four churches and the library. As her grandmother rambled on, Lexie kept thinking about her pronouncement.

 

He’s not what you imagine him to be.

 

And what might that be? A big-city type? A ladies’ man? Someone in search of a quick fling? Someone who would make fun of the town the moment he left? Someone out for a story and willing to find one any way he could, even if it ended up hurting someone in the process?

 

And why on earth did she even care? He was here for a few days, and then he’d be gone and everything would return to normal again. Thank goodness.

 

Oh, she’d already heard the gossip this morning. At the bakery, where she’d stopped in for a muffin, she’d heard a couple of women talking about him. How he was going to make the town famous, how things might get a little better around here business-wise. The moment they saw her, they peppered her with questions about him and offered their own opinions as to whether he’d find the source of the mysterious lights.

 

Some people here, after all, actually believed they were caused by ghosts. But others clearly didn’t. Mayor Gherkin, for instance. No, he had a different angle, one that regarded Jeremy’s investigation as a wager of sorts. If Jeremy Marsh couldn’t find the cause, it would be good for the town’s economy, and that’s what the mayor was betting on. After all, Mayor Gherkin knew something that only a few others knew.

 

People had been studying the mystery for years. Not just the students from Duke. Aside from the local historian—who seemed to have fathomed a plausible explanation, in Lexie’s opinion—at least two other outside groups or individuals had investigated the claim in the past without success. Mayor Gherkin had actually invited the students from Duke to pay the cemetery a visit, in the hope that they wouldn’t figure it out, either. And sure enough, tourist traffic had been picking up ever since.

 

She supposed she could have mentioned that to Mr. Marsh yesterday. But since he hadn’t asked, she hadn’t offered. She was too busy trying to ward off his advances and make it clear she wasn’t interested in him. Oh, he’d tried to be charming . . . well, okay, he was sort of charming in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that she had no intention of letting her emotions get the better of her. She’d even been sort of relieved when he left last night.

 

And then Doris made that ridiculous comment, which essentially meant that she thought Lexie should get to know him better. But what really burned her was that she knew Doris wouldn’t have said anything unless she was certain. For whatever reason, she saw something special in Jeremy.

 

Sometimes she hated Doris’s premonitions.

 

Of course, she didn’t have to listen to Doris. After all, she’d already done the “visiting stranger” thing, and she wasn’t about to go down that road again. Despite her resolution, she had to admit that the whole thing left her feeling a little off-balance. As she pondered it, she heard her office door open with a squeak.

 

“Good morning,” Jeremy said, poking his head in. “I thought I saw a light on in here.”

 

Swiveling in her chair, she noticed he’d draped his jacket over his shoulder.

 

“Hey there.” She nodded politely. “I was just trying to get caught up on some work.”

 

He held up his jacket. “Do you have a place I can put this? There’s not much room at the desk in the rare-book room.”

 

“Here, I’ll take it. The coat hanger’s behind the door.”

 

Entering the office, he handed Lexie the jacket. She hung it next to hers on the rack behind the door. Jeremy looked around the office.

 

“So this is mission control, huh? Where it all happens?”

 

“This is it,” she confirmed. “It’s not too roomy, but it’s enough to get the job done.”

 

“I like your filing system,” he said, gesturing at the piles of paperwork on the desk. “I’ve got one just like it at home.”

 

A smile escaped her lips as he took a step toward her desk and peeked out the window.

 

“Nice view, too. Why, you can see all the way to the next house. And the parking lot, too.”

 

“Well, you seem to be in a spunky mood this morning.”

 

“How can I not be? I slept in a freezing room filled with dead animals. Or rather, barely slept at all. I kept hearing all these strange noises coming from the woods.”

 

“I wondered how you’d like Greenleaf. I hear it’s rustic.”

 

“The word ‘rustic’ doesn’t quite do the place justice. And then this morning. Half the town was at breakfast.”

 

“I take it you went to Herbs,” she remarked.

 

“I did,” he said. “I noticed you weren’t there.”

 

“No. It’s too busy. I like a little quiet time to start the day.”

 

“You should have warned me.”

 

She smiled. “You should have asked.”

 

He laughed, and Lexie motioned toward the door with her hand.

 

Walking to the rare-book room with him, she sensed he was in a good mood despite his exhaustion, but it still wasn’t enough to make her trust him.

 

“Would you happen to know a Deputy Hopper?” he asked.

 

She looked over in surprise. “Rodney?”

 

“I think that was his name. What’s his deal, anyway? He seemed a little perturbed by my presence here in town.”

 

“Oh, he’s harmless.”

 

“He didn’t seem harmless.”

 

She shrugged. “He probably heard that you’d be spending time at the library. He’s kind of protective when it comes to things like that. He’s been sweet on me for years.”

 

“Put in a good word for me, will you?”

 

“I suppose I could do that.”

 

Half expecting another witty comeback, he raised his eyebrow in pleasant surprise.

 

“Thanks,” he said.

 

“No problem. Just don’t do anything to make me take it back.”

 

They continued in silence to the rare-book room. She led the way inside, flicking on the light.

 

“I’ve been thinking about your project, and there’s something you should probably know.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

She told him about the two previous investigations into the cemetery before adding, “If you give me a few minutes, I can dig them up for you.”

 

“I’d appreciate that,” he said. “But why didn’t you mention them yesterday?”

 

She smiled without answering.

 

“Let me guess,” he said. “Because I didn’t ask?”

 

“I’m only a librarian, not a mind reader.”

 

“Like your grandmother? Oh, wait, she’s a diviner, right?”

 

“Actually, she is. And she can tell the sex of babies before they’re born, too.”

 

“So I’ve heard,” Jeremy said.

 

Her eyes flashed. “It’s true, Jeremy. Whether or not you want to believe it, she can do those things.”

 

He grinned at her. “Did you just call me Jeremy?”

 

“Yes. But don’t make a big deal out of it. You did ask me to, remember?”

 

“I remember,” he said, “Lexie.”

 

“Don’t push it,” she said, but even as she spoke, Jeremy noticed that she held his gaze just a little longer than usual, and he liked that.

 

He liked that a lot.