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A man stood at the front of the trolley holding a PA mic. He was wearing a black conductor hat and bow tie, a white button-down shirt, and red suspenders.
“Hello, folks. Welcome to Firefly Island Trolley Tours. My name is Stewart, and it is my honor and privilege to be your guide today. First up, do we have any out-of-towners?”
Davina and Ernie both lifted their hands in the air, along with at least a dozen other passengers. Lydia, Phil, and I all kept our hands at our sides. None of us liked being the center of attention.
In the front row, there was an elderly couple from Toronto. Behind them were three rows of women who were part of a book club from Dallas. A family of six from Seattle was in front of us. Once everyone whose hands were in the air shared where they were from, the trolley pulled away from the curb, and Stewart began his spiel.
“Firefly Island is an idyllic small southern town with a breathtaking coastline and this charming trolley system, which served as the only island transportation for the first ten years. Aswe tour the town, you’ll notice a web of picturesque canals and bike paths, enjoyed by locals and tourists alike. Firefly Island is also renowned for its deep-sea fishing and its beaches that light up nightly with lightning bugs. Today you will see our world-famous downtown area, which includes both historic and arts districts. Also along the tour is the tallest Ferris wheel in the East, located on Firefly Pier. But first up, I’m sure most of you are here for Abernathy Manor. This estate is regularly on “The Top Ten Most Haunted Places in The U.S.” list and has been featured on several paranormal investigation and reality shows.”
As the tour continued, I tried to pay attention to what Stewart was saying, but ever since he’d mentioned the lightning bugs on the beach, I couldn’t stop thinking about my boat ride and what happened after the boat ride.
That night had been so special, so perfect, and if I had left yesterday, as planned, it would have always been those things. Now…now I didn’t know what was going to happen. There was a very good chance that the memory of my ‘perfect night’ was going to be tarnished.
Harlan had left so abruptly when I ran into him last night at Southern Comfort, and I hadn’t seen him all day today. Well, except for when I spied on him from the upstairs bathroom window while he was running his classes this morning. But other than that, nothing.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to do…he didn’t owe me anything. We weren’t dating. He didn’t even have my phone number. Still, I’d hoped that he might show up at my aunt’s house or maybe get my number from someone and text me.
But then what? What if he had come over? I didn’t want my aunt to know anything had happened between us. I didn’t wantanyoneto know. When I went inside the bar last night, Zoe and Nadia gave me the third degree about what was going on between us. I told them nothing, because that was the truth.
Nothing was going on. Nothing could go on. We were practically strangers. We lived on opposite coasts. We wanted opposite things in life.
Those were the facts. My head knew that. My heart and hormones were not convinced.
20
HARLAN
I steppedout of the shower and automatically glanced out the window to the Moore farmhouse. I’d never paid much attention to the comings and goings of our neighbor, but now I couldn’t go more than twenty minutes without satisfying the urge to look and see what was going on.
Last time I’d checked, Miss Rhonda was outside tinkering in her vegetable garden, wearing a pair of jean overalls and a wide-brim hat. Earlier today, I’d caught the briefest glimpse of Daphne when a group of people arrived in a blacked-out SUV. I assumed it must be her crew from California. She’d greeted them all with a bright smile and huge hugs.
I’d heard from Caroline Shaw that a production crew was staying at the boarding house, but Mrs. B explained that they were going to set up a “home base” at the Moore farmhouse. Apparently, Miss Rhonda had insisted, and from what I gathered, much to the chagrin of Mrs. B.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down. Speaking of Ms. Shaw, she was sending me a message reminding me of my commitment this evening.
Right.As much as I was not looking forward to this evening, I was ready to get it over with. I quickly dried my hair and got dressed. I grabbed Dini from the bed and headed down the back staircase. I found Grandad sitting at the kitchen table.
“You need anything before I take off Grandad?” I asked, as I set Dini down in her favorite nook to catch the last rays of the setting sun through the west-facing window.
Grandad lifted his head from the latest Louis L’Amour book he’d checked out from the library earlier today. I’d dropped him off there after my classes this morning but picked him up three hours later at Beasley Boarding House. When I drove up, he and Mrs. B were on the porch in rocking chairs.
He’d been spending a lot of time at the boarding house the past few months. He’d never spentanytime there before Meemaw passed. Every time I asked him about it, he’d mumble something about working on projects there.
Mrs. B and Meemaw had been friends. There was a group of four women who played mahjong once a week at the boarding house, and whenever one of them couldn’t make it, they called Meemaw to come in as a substitute.
“Where are you headin’ off to dressed so smart, Beauty-locks?”
I glanced down at myself. I was wearing black slacks and a long-sleeved gray button-down shirt. It wasn’t as formal as what I’d worn to the gala, but it still made me feel uncomfortable. I’d be much happier in jeans and a T-shirt or sweats. “I have to go have dinner with the woman who bid on me in the auction.”
“Did ya ever find out who she was?”
“Just her name, but I don’t know her.”
“Well, whoever she is, she’s got deep pockets.”
Even though he hadn’t voiced it, I knew that Grandad thought spending 5K on a night with me was about 5K too much. And I agreed with him.
“Can you take me over to the boardin’ house tomorrow? I need to check on a pipe that’s makin’ some noise and givin’ Vera some trouble.”
