Chapter Sixteen

I frowned, rubbing the back of my head at a twinge of sympathetic pain. "Wouldn't he have, you know, noticed something like that?"

"Not necessarily." Jerry closed the folio. "If it knocked him out, which I judge a blow of that severity would do, he might not recall what had happened when he awoke. That kind of contextual amnesia is common with sudden traumatic events, such as car crashes, or, as I understand, childbirth." He chuckled again. "I can't tell you how many of my female patients declare during labor with their second, third, or even fourth child that if they'd remembered how much it hurt, they would have never let their husbands near them again."

"Do you think—" My cell phone beeped in my pocket and I winced. "Sorry. I should have silenced it when we came inside."

He gestured expansively. "Do you see any other patrons whom you're disturbing? Please. Go ahead and take your call." He pushed the folio across the desk to me. "Feel free to look over these articles afterward. I have some puttering to do for our next book club meeting."

He left the Reference desk and disappeared into the stacks as I wrestled my phone out of my pocket. The number was unfamiliar.

"Hello?" I said, keeping my voice low because even though nobody else was here, it was still a freaking library .

"Is this Maz Armani?"

"Maz Amani . Yes."

"Oh. Right." The man on the line chortled. "I made that mistake before, didn't I?"

"Carson?"

"You remembered! Yes, Carson Clemenson. I just wanted to see how you were settling in and if you were ready to escape to someplace a little more civilized yet."

I frowned. "I'm not exactly in the middle of the Gobi desert."

"No, no. Of course not. It's only that Ghost has, shall we say, limited entertainment choices? I promised you a coffee date. Would now be convenient?"

"Now?" Jeez, nothing like giving a guy some advance notice.

"Just coffee. It's the middle of the morning, so a good time for a break, don't you think? There's a Starbucks in Richdale, if you'd like to meet me there in twenty minutes or so."

I was about to refuse, but then I realized Carson, as Avi's cousin, might have insight into his life and relationships that mere friends like Saul and Jerry, or casual workers like Ricky, wouldn't have. I couldn't tell you why I was suddenly so obsessed with Avi's death—okay, yes, I could, and it was the fact that Avi was still living in my house even though he was, well, not living in my house—but I was determined to find out everything I could about him. If I understood him better, even if I couldn't get him to, I don't know, move toward the light or whatever, I could at least negotiate a peaceful cohabitation.

"Actually, Carson, I'd love to meet up, but I've started a new job today and I don't have the time to drive into Richdale. What about Isaksen's here in Ghost?" I'd noticed as I'd passed last night that they had a dozen or so small tables inside. "Do they serve coffee?"

"Yeeesss," Carson drawled. "But Starbucks —"

"If you could meet me at Isaksen's in twenty minutes, I'll have about half an hour to spare."

I could hear his huff of exasperation over the phone. "All right. But only for you." His voice held a flirty edge. "It's not every day an attractive new man comes to town."

Don't pour it on too thick, Carson . I'd seen his clothes. His shoes. His car. And he'd seen mine. We were definitely not on the same style or wealth wavelength. But then I gave myself a mental bitch-slap for making assumptions based on appearances. Maybe Carson was interested in the inner me. Maybe he saw beyond downscale vehicles and low-end fashion choices. I needed to give him a chance, because even if I didn't want to date him, I really wanted to pick his brain.

Not allowing him an opportunity to change his mind, I blurted, "Thanks! I'll see you then!" in far too hearty a tone, and disconnected the call.

I spent the next fifteen minutes reading over the articles in the scrapbook. To tell the truth, they kind of broke my heart. The reporter had interviewed Avi before the party, and he'd been so upbeat and cheerful, excited to show everyone what he and Oren had accomplished, thrilled that Oren was ready to make Ghost his permanent home. He'd interviewed other people too—the couple who owned the B & B that Oren had helped renovate, the brother and sister who ran the bakery. Not Carson, I noted, although he was quoted in the article following Avi's death.

I checked the time. Oops . I needed to meet Carson like now, so I snapped pictures of all the articles with my phone—no flash, of course—and closed the folio carefully. I found Jerry in the fiction section, in front of the Fa - Fi shelf. He was thumbing through Behind Time , Jake Fields' third book, and, in my opinion, his best.

"Hey, Jerry. Thanks so much for opening up for me and sharing all the information about Avi."

He smiled warmly at me. "My pleasure."

I flicked a finger at the book. "Book club making its way through Jake's work?"

"What?" He chuckled and shelved the book. "No. Just nostalgic, I guess."

"Yeah. His last book wasn't really up to his usual standard, was it? Hope the next one's better."

His eyebrows shot up. "His next—"

"Sorry, I've got to run. Thanks again, and I'll definitely be coming by during regular hours." I grinned and ran my finger along a row of book spines. "I love the company."

I hurried out the door and down the street. Luckily, Isaksen's was only half a block away, so I was still a couple of minutes early. I didn't see Carson's shiny car at the curb, and when I walked into the bakery to the cheerful accompaniment of tinkling bells, I didn't spot him inside either.

Instead, Taryn stood at the register, leaning over the counter as she smiled up at a tall, red-haired woman in a sleeveless T-shirt that exposed some serious arm definition, her pale skin liberally sprinkled with freckles. An Asian man with his long black hair caught up in a ponytail backed through a swinging door, a tray of glistening miniature fruit tarts in his hands.

His smile was nearly as bright as the lights in the display case where he deftly unloaded the pastries. "Welcome to Isaksen's. You must be Maz."

I blinked. "Um, yes?"

Taryn looked over at me and burst out laughing. "The look on your face. Don't worry. I told them both about you. Jae-Seong isn't psychic."

He gave her a glare of mock outrage. "How dare you! I'll have you know I aced my History of Tarot test precisely because I could read Professor DeHaven's mind."

"Yeah," drawled the red-haired woman. "Couldn't be because you stayed up half the night studying before the final."

He sighed dramatically. "Nobody appreciates my talents."

" I appreciate them," Taryn said. "And Maz will too when you make him one of your signature Vietnamese coffees." She turned to face me. "Maz, these two goofballs are Haley and Jae-Seong Isaksen. They own the bakery."

"Took over from our parents," Haley said. "Who are now off traveling and enjoying their retirement."

"And we," Jae-Seong said, "enjoy them not looking over our shoulder and micromanaging everything from the decor to the sourdough starter."

Taryn patted her ample hip. "I owe much of my padding to their work, especially since they never charge me for anything and it's hard to resist a poppyseed scone or giant cinnamon roll when it's free."

"We owe your pop more than free baked goods for life," Jae-Seong said. "If it weren't for him, our folks would never have found us and made us a family."

Taryn grinned. "He is good, isn't he?" She smiled at Haley. "Will I see you for dinner tonight?"

"Definitely." Haley leaned over the counter and planted a kiss on Taryn's lips, lingering just long enough that their relationship was not in the least in question. "Jae-Seong's doing the bread prep tonight, so I'm free."

"Excellent." Taryn pointed at Jae-Seong. "Remember. Vietnamese coffee for Maz." She lifted her nose in the air. "You can put it on my tab."

Jae-Seong laughed and tossed a blue and white striped napkin at her, which she snatched out of the air. "Get out of here, woman. You're distracting my sister."

She laughed and faced me. "Maz, I'm glad I ran into you. The delivery company will be dropping off Oren's effects tomorrow sometime between eight and noon. Will that be convenient?"

I screwed up my face. "I'm not sure? I've just started at the Manor and I already bugged out on your dad this morning to check on something in the library."

"Don't worry. He'll understand." She dug her phone out of her purse. "How about this? I'll have them text you when they're ten minutes out. If you're just at the Manor, you can be there to meet them, no problem." She winked. "Dad's not as much of a cruel task master as he looks."

"Are you kidding? He's like a cross between a tall, shaped-up Santa and everybody's favorite uncle. I find it hard to believe he's ever said a cross word in his life."

She chuckled and patted my arm. "Trust me. He uttered plenty of cross words when I was a teenager. Dad and Pop both did, because I dearly loved to test boundaries. Still do, in fact." She fluttered her fingers at Jae-Seong, blew a kiss at Haley and headed for the door just as Carson stepped inside. "Morning, Carson. Slumming?"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Always a pleasure, Taryn." He held the door for her, giving her a little bow as she sailed past.