Jeremy slept poorly on his last night at Greenleaf. He and Alvin had finished up filming—as the train passed, Riker’s Hill only faintly registered the reflected light—and after viewing the film, both he and Alvin had decided it was good enough to prove Jeremy’s theory, unless they were willing to arrange for better equipment.

Still, on their way back to Greenleaf, Jeremy’s mind was barely on the mystery or even the drive. Instead, he began to once again replay the last few days in his head. He remembered the first time he’d seen Lexie in the cemetery, and their spirited exchange in the library. He thought of their lunch on Riker’s Hill and their visit to the boardwalk, recalled his amazement at the extraordinary party in his honor, and how he’d felt when he first glimpsed the lights in the cemetery. But most of all, he remembered those moments when he first began to realize that he was falling in love with her.

Was it really possible for so much to have happened in only a couple of days? By the time he’d reached Greenleaf and entered his room, he was trying to pinpoint the exact moment when everything started going wrong. He wasn’t quite sure, but it seemed to him now that she’d been trying to run away from her feelings, not simply from him. So when had she begun to realize that she had feelings for him? At the party, like him? At the cemetery? Earlier that afternoon?

He had no idea as to the answer. All he knew was that he loved her and that he couldn’t imagine never seeing her again.

The hours passed slowly; with his flight leaving from Raleigh at noon, he would be leaving Greenleaf shortly. He rose before six, finished packing his things, and loaded them in his car. After making sure that he saw Alvin’s light shining from his own room, he made his way through the chilly morning air to the office.

Jed, as he expected, scowled. His hair was even more unkempt than usual and his clothing wrinkled, so Jeremy figured he must have risen only a few minutes earlier. Jeremy set the key on his desk.

“Quite a place you have here,” Jeremy said. “I’ll make sure to recommend it to my friends.”

If possible, Jed’s expression grew even meaner, but Jeremy merely smiled ingratiatingly in return. On his way back to the room, he saw headlights bouncing in the fog as a car slowly made its way up the gravel drive. For an instant, he thought it was Lexie, and he felt a surge in his chest; when the car finally came into view, his hopes sank just as quickly.

Mayor Gherkin, bundled in a heavy jacket and scarf, emerged from the car. Showing none of the energy he had at their previous meetings, he groped his way toward Jeremy in the darkness.

“Packing up, I suppose,” he called out.

“I just finished.”

“Jed didn’t slap you with the bill, did he?”

“No,” Jeremy said. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. Like I said, it was the least we could do for you. I just hope you enjoyed your stay in our fine town.”

Jeremy nodded, noting the worry on the mayor’s face. “Yeah,” he said, “I did.”

For the first time since Jeremy had met him, Gherkin seemed at a loss for words. As the silence grew uncomfortable, he retucked

the scarf into his jacket. “Well, I just wanted to drop by to tell you that the folks around here sure enjoyed meeting you. I know I’m speaking for the town here, but you’ve made quite an impression.” Jeremy put his hands in his pockets. “Why the ruse?” he asked.

Gherkin sighed. “About adding the cemetery to the tour?”

“No. I mean about the fact that your father recorded the answer in his diary and that you hid the answer from me.”

A sad expression crossed Gherkin’s features. “You’re absolutely right,” he said after a moment. His voice was hesitant. “My daddy did solve that mystery, but I suppose he was meant to.” He met Jeremy’s eyes. “Do you know why he became so interested in the history of our town?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“In World War II, my daddy was serving in the army with a man named Lloyd Shaumberg. He was a lieutenant, my daddy was a grunt. People these days don’t seem to realize that during the war, it wasn’t just soldiers out there on the front lines. Most of the people serving were just regular folks: bakers, butchers, mechanics. Shaumberg was a historian. At least that’s how my daddy referred to him. Actually, he was just a history teacher at a high school in Delaware, but my daddy swore there was no finer officer in the army. He used to keep his men entertained by telling stories from the past, stories that hardly anybody knew, and it kept my daddy from being so scared about what was happening. Anyway, after the push up the boot in Italy, Shaumberg and my dad and the rest of the platoon were encircled by the Germans. Shaumberg told the men to retreat while he tried to provide cover for them. ‘I don’t have a choice,’ he said. It was a suicide mission—everyone knew it, but that’s who Shaumberg was.” Gherkin paused. “Anyway, my daddy lived and Shaumberg died, and after my daddy came home from the war, he said that he’d become a historian, too, as a way to honor his friend.”

When Gherkin didn’t continue, Jeremy looked at him curiously. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Gherkin replied, “as I see it, I didn’t have much of a choice, either. Every town needs something to call its own, something to remind folks that their home is special. In New York, you don’t have to worry about that. There’s Broadway and Wall Street and the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. But down here, after all the business closings, I looked around and realized that all we had was a legend. And legends . . . well, they’re just relics from the past, and a town needs more than that to survive. That’s all I was trying to do, searching for a way to keep this town alive, and then you came along.”

Jeremy glanced away, thinking about the boarded storefronts he’d seen when he first arrived, remembering Lexie’s comment about the closing of the textile mill and phosphorous mine.

“So you came by this morning to give me your side of the story?”

“No,” Gherkin said. “I came by to let you know all this was my idea. It wasn’t the town council’s, it wasn’t the folks’ who live here. Maybe I was wrong to do what I did. Maybe you don’t agree with it. But I did what I thought was right for this place and the people who live here. And all I ask is that when you do your story you keep in mind that............