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I told him the night before how I’d read about her staying with her uncle as well as how she met Seth. My pulse ticks in my wrist with his question. It’s nice not being alone in my grandmother’s mystery. “Yes. She said that she was going to find Seth and ask him why her aunt warned her about him.”

He glances over at me. “And did she?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t in that entry.”

“You didn’t keep reading?” His lips part in a grin, and I recall how well they molded with mine the night before.

Shaking my head, I concentrate on the road in front of us. “No, I’m pacing myself. Otherwise, I’d be done by now. I’m enjoying this too much to have it done and over with so quickly.”

He pulls into a parking space at the school, his chest humming with a quiet chuckle.

My ticking pulse picks up speed. “You think I’m ridiculous.”

“No, really, I don’t.” His hands fall from the wheel and he peers at me.

I press my lips together, my eyes locking on his mouth. “Thanks, Logan.”

“I’ll pick you up at three,” he says, leaving me with a promise.

Twenty-One

“You okay, honey?” Rachel interrupts my scattered thoughts. That’s what I’m calling my all-encompassing Logan thoughts.

“Oh!” I blink, taking in the woman and her bright pink pug sweater. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“You sure? Your face is the prettiest shade of guilt I’ve seen in a long ol’ time.” A smile freezes on Rachel’s face as she waits for the latest buzz. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a few little rumors I’ve been hearing about a certain somebody’s sexy-pants next-door neighbor⁠—?”

My breath hitches. “Rachel!”

She sits on the edge of my desk. I’ve been here two days, and I already have more adornments on this desk than Amelia had after years. I’m using her mug to hold my newly sharpened pencils. I took one of her old empty frames and placed a wallet-sized picture of my family inside. Needing a little more color, I took a couple teacup knickknacks from her bedroom and placed them at the head of my desk. They aren’t exactly my thing, but they brighten up the space, and they make me think of Amelia. Rachel’s thigh brushes the edge of Amelia’s decorative teacup, waiting for me to give her something juicy. I don’t.

“Right, that’s right…” she hums. “There’s nothing to tell. Nothing at all. Because you have a boyfriend.”

“Oh—” I gulp with the word. “Well, yes, I did.” I can’t quite meet her eyes.

I’m not even looking at her, and I can see in my periphery Rachel’s penciled brows raising to the tippety-top of her head. “Did? You did have a boyfriend. As in, you don’t anymore?”

I clench my jaw, a hissing breath slipping through my teeth. “I sort of broke up with him.”

Rachel nudges my shoulder with her fingers. “Dish, girl!”

“Excuse me?”

“Dish! What happened?” Rachel hops from her perch. Her hips swing side to side—she is so eager. “Your grandmother and I never kept secrets from each other; now don’t you start.”

Does that mean Rachel knew about Seth? About the box under the floor? Or did Amelia fool everyone in Rendezvous?

“What happened with Benny?”

“Benjamin,” I correct, and yet I feel this strange obligation to Rachel. Like I can’t deny her anything. “We had a fight. Benjamin came to Rendezvous, but he brought a realtor with him.”

Rachel gasps, slumping into the chair across from my desk, scooting it closer until her knees touch mine.

I huff, grateful for her reaction. I’m not crazy—it is that bad. “I’m not ready to sell,” I say. “It was the last straw.”

“It could have been the one and only straw!” Rachel’s face has turned cherry red. “That’s more awful than spoiled prune juice.”

Her validation only encourages me. “Extremely spoiled prune juice!” My roommate Lynn would say the same thing—well, maybe not exactly the same thing. No one says anything like Rachel.