Later that night, Alvin and Jeremy set up the cameras near the boardwalk on the Pamlico River. In the distance, the sounds of music drifted from Meyer’s tobacco barn as the dance got under way. The rest of the shops downtown had closed up for the night; even Lookilu had been abandoned. Bundled in their jackets, they seemed to be alone.

“And then what?” Alvin asked.

“That’s it,” Jeremy said. “She left.”

“You didn’t follow her?”

“She didn’t want me to,” he said.

“How do you know?”

Jeremy rubbed his eyes, replaying the argument for the umpteenth time. The last few hours had passed in a haze. He vaguely remembered heading back to the rare-book room before putting the stack of diaries on the shelf and locking the door behind him. On the drive back, he’d brooded over what she’d said, his feelings of anger and betrayal mingling with those of sadness and regret. He spent the next four hours lying on the bed at Greenleaf, trying to figure out how he could have handled it better. He shouldn’t have stormed into her office the way he had. Had he really been so angry about the diary? About the thought that he’d been duped? Or was it simply that he was angry at Lexie and, like her, looking for any excuse to start an argument?

He wasn’t sure, and Alvin didn’t have any answers, either, after he’d related the day’s events. All Jeremy knew was that he was exhausted, and despite the fact he had to film, he was fighting the urge to go to Lexie’s house and see if he could mend things. Assuming she was even there. For all he knew, she was at the dance with everyone else.

Jeremy sighed, his thoughts going back to their final moment in the library. “I could see it in the way she looked at me,” he said.

“So it’s over?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, “it’s over.”

In the darkness, Alvin shook his head and turned away. How his friend had become so attached in such a short period of time was beyond him. She hadn’t been that charming, and she didn’t fit the deferential image he’d had of southern women.

But whatever. This was a fling, Alvin knew, and he had little doubt that Jeremy would get over it as soon as he boarded the flight back home.

Jeremy always got over everyone.

At the dance, Mayor Gherkin sat alone at a table in the corner, his hand on his chin.

He’d hoped that Jeremy would swing by, preferably with Lexie, but as soon as he’d arrived, he heard the chatter from the library volunteers about the argument in the library. According to those folks, it had been a big one, and had something to do with one of the diaries and some sort of scam.

Thinking about it now, he decided he shouldn’t have donated his father’s journal to the library, but at the time, it hadn’t seemed all that important, and it was a fairly accurate record of the town’s history. The library was the obvious place to donate it. But who could have guessed what would happen in the next fifteen years? Who knew the textile mill would be closed or the mine abandoned? Who knew that hundreds of people would find themselves out of work? Who knew that a number of young families would leave and never return? Who knew the town would end up fighting a battle of survival?

Maybe he shouldn’t have added the cemetery to the tour. Maybe he shouldn’t have publicized ghosts when he knew they were simply the lights from the night shift at the paper mill. But the simple fact was that the town needed something to build on, something to get people to visit, something to make them spend a couple of days in town so they could experience how wonderful this place was. With enough people passing through, maybe they could eventually become a retirement mecca like Oriental or Washington or New Bern. It was, he thought, the town’s only hope. Retirees wanted hospitable places to eat and bank, they wanted places to shop. It wouldn’t happen right away, but it was the only plan he had, and it had to start somewhere. Thanks to the addition of the cemetery and its mysterious lights, they’d sold a few hundred extra tickets to the tour, and Jeremy’s presence had offered them the opportunity to get the word out nationally.

Oh, he’d always figured that Jeremy was smart enough to figure it out on his own. That part didn’t bother him. So what if Jeremy exposed the truth on national television? Or even in his column? People around the country would still hear about Boone Creek, and some might seek it out. Any publicity was better than no publicity. Unless, of course, he used the word “scam.”

It was such a nasty-sounding word, and not in keeping with what was happening. Sure, he knew what the lights were, but hardly anyone else did, and what was the harm, anyway? The simple fact was that there was a legend, there were lights, and some people did believe that they were ghosts. Others simply played along, thinking it made the town seem different and special. People needed that now, more than ever.

Jeremy Marsh with fond memories of the town would understand that. Jeremy Marsh without them might not. And right now Mayor Gherkin wasn’t sure which impression Jeremy would be leaving with tomorrow.

“The mayor looks sort of worried, don’t you think?” Rodney remarked.

Rachel looked over, feeling rather proud that they’d been standing together most of the night. Even the fact that he sometimes glanced toward the door and seemed to scan the crowd for Lexie did nothing to diminish the feeling, for the simple reason that he seemed happy to be with her as well.

“Sort of. But he always looks that way.”

“No,” Rodney said, “it’s not the same. He’s got something serious on his mind.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rodney thought about it. Like the mayor—like everyone else, it seemed—he’d heard about the argument at the library, but unlike most of them, he figured he had a pretty good handle on what was going on. He was able to put the bits and pieces together, especially after seeing the mayor’s expression. The mayor, he suddenly knew, was worried about the way Jeremy was going to present their little mystery to the world.

As for the argument, he’d tried to warn Lexie it was coming. It had been inevitable. She was just about the most hardheaded woman he’d ever met, someone who always stood her ground. She could be volatile, and Jeremy had finally gotten a taste of it. Though Rodney wished she wouldn’t have put herself through the wringer again, he was relieved to know the affair was just about over.

“No,” Rodney said, “there’s not much I can tell him. It’s out of his hands now.”

Rachel furrowed her brow. “What’s out of his hands?”

“Nothing.” He waived the subject off with a smile. “It’s not important.”

Rachel studied him for a moment before shrugging. They stood together as one song ended and the band began a new one. As more people took to the dance floor, Rachel began tapping her foot to the beat.

Rodney didn’t seem to notice the dancers, preoccupied as he was. He wanted to talk to Lexie. On his way here, he’d driven past her house and seen her lights on and the car in the driveway. Earlier, he’d also received a report from another deputy, noting that City Boy and his cartoon character friend were setting up their camera on the boardwalk. Which meant that the argument had yet to be resolved.

If Lexie’s lights were still on after the dance had ended, he supposed he could drop by on his way home, like he’d done the night after Mr. Renaissance had left. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be entirely surprised to see him. He figured she’d probably stare at him for a moment before opening the door. She’d brew some decaf, and just like the last time, he’d sit on the couch and listen for hours as she berated herself for being so foolish.

He nodded to himself. He knew her better than he knew himself.

Even so, he wasn’t ready to do that just yet. For one thing, she needed a bit more time alone so she could sort things out. And he had to admit he was a little tired of being viewed as the big-brother type, and he wasn’t sure he was in the mood to listen to her. He was feeling pretty good, after all, and right now he wasn’t anxious to end the evening on a downer.

Besides, the band wasn’t half-bad. It was a lot better than the one they’d had last year. From the corner of his eye, he watched Rachel swaying in time to the music, pleased that she’d sought him out for company, just as she had the other night at the party. She had always been easy to be around, but the strange thing was that lately, every time he saw her, she seemed just a bit prettier than he remembered. No doubt it was just his imagination, but he couldn’t help thinking that she looked especially nice tonight.

Rachel noticed him watching her and grinned in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said, “I like this song.”

Rodney cleared his throat. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“I’m not much of a dancer, though—”

“I’d love to,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand.

Following her to the floor, he decided then and there that he’d figure out what............