For a moment, neither of them seemed able to move, until Lexie drew a long breath and glanced away. Still shaken, she raised her bottle slightly.

“I think I need another one of these,” she said with a tentative smile. “Would you like one?”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “I already got one. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. I should check on the sauce, too.”

Lexie headed for the kitchen on unsteady legs, and she stopped before the stove. The wooden spoon had left a smudge of tomato sauce on the counter after she had picked it up to stir, and she put it in the same spot when she was finished. Then, opening the refrigerator, she took out another beer and set it on the counter, along with the olives. She tried to open the jar, but because her hands were trembling, she couldn’t get the grip she needed.

“Need a hand with that?” Jeremy asked.

She looked up, surprised. She hadn’t heard him come in, and wondered if her feelings were as obvious as they felt.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said.

Jeremy took the olives from her. She watched the sinewy muscles of his forearms as he twisted the cap off. Then, eyeing her beer, he opened that as well and handed it to her.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, nor did he seem to want to say anything more. In the stillness of the room, she watched him lean against the counter. The overhead light was on, but without the fading light of dusk streaming through the windows, it seemed softer than it had when they started cooking.

Lexie took a mouthful of beer, savoring the taste, savoring everything about the evening: the way she looked and felt and the way he’d stared at her. She was close enough to reach out and touch Jeremy and for a fleeting moment almost did, but instead, she turned away and went to the cupboard.

She took out some olive oil and balsamic vinegar and put some of each in a small bowl, along with salt and pepper.

“Everything smells delicious,” he said.

Finished with the dressing, she reached for the olives and put them into another small bowl. “We still have an hour before dinner,” she said. Talking seemed to keep her steadier. “Since I didn’t plan on having company, these will have to do for an appetizer. If it was summer, I’d say we could wait on the porch outside, but I tried that earlier and it’s freezing. And I should warn you that the chairs in the kitchen aren’t too comfortable.”

“Which means?”

“Would you like to go sit in the living room again?”

He led the way, paused at the easy chair to pick up Doris’s book, then watched as Lexie took a seat on the couch. She put the olives on the coffee table, then shifted slightly trying to get comfortable. When he took a seat beside her, he could smell the sweet, floral scent of the shampoo she’d used. From the kitchen, he heard the faintest strains of the radio.

“I see you have Doris’s notebook,” she said.

He nodded. “She let me borrow it.”

“And?”

“I just had a chance to look over the first few pages. But it has a lot more detail than I thought it would.”

“Now do you believe that she predicted the sex of all those babies?”

“No,” he said. “Like I said, she might have recorded only the ones she was right about.”

Lexie smiled. “And the different way the entries look? Sometimes pens, sometimes pencils, sometimes it looks like she was in a rush, sometimes she took her time.”

“I’m not saying the book doesn’t look convincing,” he said. “I’m just saying that she can’t predict the sex of babies by holding someone’s hand.”

“Because you say so.”

“No. Because it’s impossible.”

“Don’t you mean statistically improbable?”

“No,” he said, “impossible.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Skeptic. But how’s your story going?”

Jeremy began picking at the label of his beer with his thumb. “Good,” he said. “If I can, I’d still like to finish looking through some of the diaries at the library, though. Maybe find something to spice up the story.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now all I have to do is prove it. Hopefully, the weather will cooperate.”

“It will,” she said. “It’s supposed to be foggy all weekend. I heard it on the radio earlier.”

“Good,” he said. “But the bad part is that the solution isn’t nearly as much fun as the legend.”

“Was it worth coming down, then?”

He nodded. “Without a doubt,” he said, his voice quiet. “I wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world.”

Hearing his tone, she knew exactly what he meant, and she turned toward him. Propping her chin on her hand, she put a leg on the couch, liking how intimate it felt, how desirable he made her feel.

“So what is it?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell me the answer?”

The lamplight behind her gave her the faintest halo, and her eyes glowed violet beneath dark lashes.

“I’d rather show you,” he said.

She smiled. “Since I’m bringing you back, anyway, you mean. Right?”

“Right.”

“And you want to go back . . . ?”

“Tomorrow, if we can.” He shook his head, trying to regain control of his feelings, not wanting to ruin this, not wanting to push too hard, but wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms. “I’ve got to meet Alvin. He’s a friend of mine—a cameraman from New York. He’s coming to get some professional footage.”

“He’s coming to Boone Creek?”

“Actually, he’s probably arriving in town as we speak.”

“Right now? Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Probably,” he admitted.

She thought about what he’d said, touched by the effort he had made to come today.

“Okay,” she said. “There’s an early ferry we can catch. We can be back in town around ten.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“And you’re going to film tomorrow night?”

He nodded. “I left a note telling Alvin to go to the cemetery tonight, but we have to film elsewhere, too. And tomorrow’s going to be a full day, anyway. There are some loose ends I have to tie up.”

“What about the barn dance? I thought we had a deal that if you solved the mystery, I’d dance with you.”

Jeremy lowered his head. “If I can make it, I will. Believe me. There’s nothing I want more.”

Silence filled the room.

“When are you going back to New York?” she finally asked.

“Saturday,” he said. “I have to be in New York for a meeting next week.”

Her heart sank at his words. Though she already knew it was coming, it still ached to hear him say it. “Back to the exciting life, huh?”

He shook his head. “My life in New York isn’t all that glamorous. For the most part, it’s about work. I spend most of my time either researching or writing, and those are solitary endeavors. Actually, it can get pretty lonely at times.”

She raised a brow. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you, because I’m not buying it.”

He glanced at her. “What if I mentioned my creepy neighbors? Would you feel sorry for me then?”

“No.”

He laughed. “I don’t live in New York for the excitement, no matter what you might think. I live there because my family’s there, because I’m comfortable there. Because it’s home to me. Just like Boone Creek is home to you.”

“I take it your family is close.”

“Yeah,” he said, “we are. We get together almost every weekend at my mom and dad’s in Queens for these great big dinners. My dad had a heart attack a few years back and it’s tough on him, but he loves those weekends. It’s always a real zoo: a bunch of kids running around, Mom cooking in the kitchen, my brothers and their wives standing around in the backyard. Of course, they all live nearby, so they’re over there even more often than I am.”

She took another drink, trying to picture the scene. “Sounds nice.”

“It is. But it’s hard sometimes.”

She looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

He was quiet as he rotated the bottle in his hands. “Sometimes I don’t, either,” he said.

Perhaps it was the way he said it that kept her from saying anything; in the silence, she watched him closely, waiting for him to continue.

“Did you ever have a dream?” he asked. “Something you wanted so badly and just when you think you’re about to reach out and grab it, something else takes it away?”

“Everyone has dreams that don’t come true,” she answered, her voice guarded.

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me,” she said.

“There’s something you don’t know about me,” he said, turning to face her again. “Actually, it’s something I’ve never told anyone.”

At his words, she felt her shoulders tense. “You’re married,” she said, leaning back.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then you’re seeing someone in New York and it’s serious.”

“No, that’s not it, either.”

When he said no more, she thought she saw a shadow of doubt cross his face.

“It’s okay,” she offered. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”

He shook his head and forced a smile. “You were close the first time,” he said. “I was married. And divorced.”

Expecting far worse, she almost laughed aloud in relief, but his somber expression restrained her.

“Her name was Maria. We were fire and ice at first, and no one could understand what we saw in each other. But once you got past the surface, we shared the same values and beliefs about all the big things in life. Including our desire for children. She wanted four, I wanted five.” He hesitated when he saw her expression. “I know that’s a lot of kids these days, but it was something we were both used to. Like me, she’d come from a large family.” He paused. “We didn’t know there was a problem right away, but after six months, she still wasn’t pregnant, and we went in for some routine tests. She turned out to be fine, but for whatever reason, it turned out that I wasn’t. No reason given, no answer possible. Just one of those things that sometimes happen to people. When she found out, she decided she didn’t want to stay in the marriage anymore. And now . . . I mean, I love my family, I love spending time with them, but when I’m there, I’m always reminded of the family that I’ll never be able to have. I know that sounds strange, but I guess you’d have to be me to understand how much I wanted kids.”

When he finished, Lexie simply stared at him, trying to make sense of what he’d just told her. “Your wife left you because you found out that you couldn’t have kids?” she asked.

“Not right away. But in the end, yes.”

“And there was nothing the doctors could do?”

“No.” He seemed almost embarrassed. “I mean, they didn’t say it was utterly impossible for me to have a child, but they made it clear that it would most likely never happen. And that was enough for her.”

“What about adoption? Or finding a donor? Or . . .”

Jeremy shook his head. “I know it’s easy to think she was heartless, but it wasn’t like that,” he said. “You had to know her to fully understand. She grew up thinking that she’d be a mother. After all, her sisters were all becoming mothers, and she would have been a mother, too, if it wasn’t for me.” He glanced up toward the ceiling. “For a long time, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think I was defective, but I was. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but after that, I just felt like less of a man. Like I wasn’t worthy enough for anyone.”

He shrugged, his voice growing more matter-of-fact as he went on. “Yeah, we could have adopted; yeah, we could have found a donor. I suggested all of that. But her heart wa............