Chapter 3

3

F inley looked around the crowded table as Emerson passed out slices of the chocolate cake she'd baked.

"Please tell me that's your famous buttercream frosting with caramel sauce," Dax said, dragging his finger through the top of his piece of cake and slipping his finger into his mouth.

"From the satisfied look on your face, I'd say you guessed right," Braden said, taking a bite of the dessert and sighing. "You never make a bad cake, Emerson."

Emerson's brows shot up haughtily. "Well, I am the exclusive baker for Weddings with Hart."

"Best hire I ever made," Harper said, then glanced to Finley. "Or maybe I should say it's a tie. Your photos take the cake, Finley."

Everyone laughed, and Finley was glad she had forced herself to come to dinner tonight. This would be the last time they were able to walk down a few doors to eat dinner with Braden and Harper. The couple, who had wed in October, had recently purchased their first house. It was just outside of Lost Creek and about seven minutes from the winery, where Braden was the head winemaker.

"When is moving day?" she asked.

"For which one of us?" Ivy said.

"You're moving, too?" Emerson asked.

Ivy nodded. "Dax and I are pretty cramped in his apartment. While it's convenient for him to trot downstairs to Java Junction and me to walk across the square to my art studio, we need more space."

"For now, Ivy and I are moving into Braden and Harper's rental," Dax shared. "We'll sublet it through April. Hopefully, we'll have found a place of our own by then."

"Moving day for us is Sunday," Harper said. "We thought it would make sense for us to totally be out of the house, and then Ivy and Dax will move in on Monday."

"Thank goodness your rental is furnished," Ivy said. "It'll be easy to move into your old place and hopefully give us time to find something of our own."

"You'll need to sweet talk Finley into helping you when you do find a house. She's helped us furnish our new place," Harper said, smiling at her friend. "You've made things really easy. You have a great eye and flair for what works in a room. Maybe you should ditch teaching and go into interior design work."

She wanted to share with her friends what her future plans held, but she wasn't ready to open up about leaving teaching just yet. Finley still wanted to give it some thought, making certain she was making the right career move. It would be important to also talk things over with her parents and let them know before word got out. She did owe it to Mary to let her know as soon as possible so that the principal could hire Finley's replacement.

"It's what makes you a great photographer," Ivy said. "You have a way of seamlessly blending art with emotion in every picture you take."

Blushing, she said, "That's high praise coming from the painter who has a big, fancy art show coming up in New York."

Ivy waved her away. "That's not anytime soon. Fortunately, Clive Crutchfield is not pushing for me to race through canvases. I don't mind working at a steady pace, but I'm relieved that my exhibition won't be until September."

"Do you need any help moving?" Finley asked.

"No," Harper said. "I think we've got everything under control. You've already placed so much furniture in the new house as it is. I want to give it a few weeks, and then maybe we can go into San Antonio again to work on completing the rest of the house."

Finley had a suspicion that in a few months, the couple would need to look for nursery furniture. She knew her friends were already trying for a baby.

"I'm happy to accompany you anytime. Especially if we stop by Mi Tierra," she said, referring to the famous bakery.

"I'm assuming you have an event scheduled for tomorrow night," Dax said, his dessert plate now empty.

"Yes. Not a wedding but a fiftieth anniversary party for a couple. Their kids and grandkids have been really involved in the planning. They're not using any catering. Everyone is bringing favorite family recipes from over the last several decades. One of the grandsons has a band, so they'll be playing. Another is a photographer, which means Finley is off the hook for the evening."

Dax looked to Emerson and her. "Then will either of you be able to make it to Java Junction tomorrow night and keep Ivy company since I'm performing?"

"I can't," Emerson said. "I'm actually going to a wedding in Austin tomorrow afternoon. A friend from the bakery I used to work at in college is getting married. After the reception, several of us are going to hang out. Have dinner. I'll wait and come back Sunday morning."

"I can go," Finley said. "You know I love your music, Dax. Besides, I could probably take a few new pictures of you performing and let Ivy update the website some."

"You're just hoping I'll comp your drinks if you're working," he teased. "Hey, I invited someone new to stop by tomorrow night."

"Oh, that's right," Ivy said. "You'll never guess who came into Java Junction? Holden Scott."

Finley perked up. " Capitol Crimes Holden Scott?" she asked, immediately recognizing the name.

"Yes, the author himself," Dax confirmed. "He's a really decent guy."

"Why was he in Lost Creek?" asked Harper. "Researching a new book?"

"He told me he was writing the screenplay for his latest bestseller," Dax told the group. "Actually, he seemed pretty nervous about it. Said he's never written a screenplay before. He's originally from Austin. I guess he wanted to come back to the Hill Country to work. Maybe soak up the atmosphere of the place and be inspired as he writes."

"Dax asked Holden to stop by tomorrow night. He said he would," Ivy added. "He's bringing the director who did his first movie and his wife."

"I'm definitely in," Finley declared. "I loved everything about Capitol Crimes , both the book and the movie. I haven't had time to read his latest one yet, though."

"Because my wife keeps you busy photographing weddings," Braden said, slipping an arm around Harper's shoulders and kissing her.

"Here they go again," Emerson said, laughing. "All right, people. I've got to go home and get some sleep. It's almost ten o'clock and this week at school wore me out. Foolish or not, I promised Ethel I'd pull a shift until noon at The Bake House tomorrow since she's going to Houston for a few days."

Emerson had worked a second, weekend job at the town's bakery until recently, when she'd decided to work for Weddings with Hart. Her roommate often left school and went to the event center, where Harper had put in a gourmet kitchen for Emerson to use in order to bake cakes for scheduled events on the premises.

"We should go home and pack," Harper said.

"Yeah. Pack," Braden replied, giving his wife a hungry look, which had them all laughing again.

"We're actually the newlyweds," Dax pointed out. "We've only been married a little over two months to your three months."

Ivy wrapped her arms about her husband's neck. "Then let's go home and do some packing of our own," she purred.

"Okay, the new code word for having hot sex is packing," Finley joked. "Not that I've done any packing in quite a while."

"I like it," Emerson said. "Packing. Okay, I'm leaving the cake here. Dax, you and Braden can fight over it."

She and Emerson slipped into their jackets and walked home.

"I'm beat," her friend said. "And I'll have to be at the bakery by three tomorrow morning. Goodnight." Emerson headed to her bedroom.

Finley was too restless to sleep, though. She found her Kindle and called up Capitol Crimes , re-reading the prologue. The book was a true thriller, and she had raced through it the first time.

Curious, she went to Amazon and searched for Holden Scott's latest novel and bought it, downloading it to her Kindle and opening it up. Once she began reading, she couldn't stop. It was very different in style and content from Scott's first effort, but it was gripping, nonetheless. It was obvious to her, having lived in the Hill Country her entire life, that the author knew the area well and the people who lived here.

When she reached the last page, she gasped aloud. The reveal of the killer totally blindsided her. Finley closed her Kindle, sitting in shock.

"Are you still up?" a voice asked, startling her.

She saw it was Emerson, her hair swept back in a high ponytail, wearing her a shirt with The Bake House scrolled above the pocket.

"Yes," she said. "I started reading the new Holden Scott book. I couldn't stop. It's that good. I just finished it."

"Go to bed, Fin," her roommate encouraged. "I'll see you when I get home on Sunday."

She locked the door behind Emerson and washed the makeup from her face and brushed and flossed. Putting her cell on the charger, she fell into bed. At first, she kept seeing images of the people in Scott's murder mystery, ones she'd created in her head as she'd read.

Then she woke up. Her bedroom was filled with light. Finley realized she'd actually gotten some sleep.

Picking up her cell, she saw it was just past eight-thirty, the latest she'd slept in months. Then again, she hadn't gone to bed until a quarter to three. Though she should feel tired, she never needed more than five or six hours of sleep. She made herself a cup of tea and then jumped in the shower. By the time she got out, her tea had steeped and was the perfect temperature. As she drank it, she put on light makeup and did her hair before dressing in jeans and a sweater.

Josh's game would be starting soon. She decided to head to the city soccer fields and watch a few minutes before running her errands. It took several minutes to find a parking place, but once she did, it only took her five minutes to reach the field the Dragons were playing on.

Spying Josh's parents, she climbed into the bleachers and sat with them a few minutes. She knew the couple well since they served as room parents and helped her in planning parties, as well as chaperoning field trips.

Josh leaped into the air as the soccer ball was kicked toward the goal by the opposing team. He blocked it, and a cheer went up from their side of the bleachers. Immediately, the boy looked into the stands and waved at his parents and her.

"He'll be thrilled you saw that save," the mom said. "Don't feel like you have to stay longer, Finley. I know you have a lot going on."

She decided to slip out and run a few errands before her afternoon photo shoot, stopping at the dry cleaners, filling her tank with gas, and picking up a few groceries. By then, it was noon, so she ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before grabbing her camera equipment and heading to Sylvia Torres' house. They had gone to high school together, though Sylvia was a year behind Finley. Sylvia had recently had a baby girl and wanted newborn portraits taken.

Finley knocked on the door instead of ringing the doorbell. She'd learned early not to make that mistake and have a crying baby.

Sylvia answered, Jessica in her arms. "Come in."

"Oh, she's precious. We're going to get some great pictures, Sylvia. Let me set these things down. I have a few more props."

Soon, Finley was photographing the sleeping Jessica, focusing on tiny toes and her sleepy grin. She placed the baby inside one of the baskets she used, draping material over her. Then she pulled out one of her Flokati rugs and created a dip, setting the baby inside it.

"We'll do a womb pose, then get her with her hand under her chin."

After several more shots, she said, "Okay, Mom. Time for you. Hold her. Look down at her. Good. Now smile at her. Nice. Kiss her forehead."

Sylvia had placed a headband with a bow around the baby's head, but for a different look, Finley replaced it with another one and then totally left it off.

"Dad's turn," she said brightly, walking him through various poses.

"Oh, I love that one," Sylvia said, tearing up, as her husband held the baby, cradling Jessica's head in one hand, smiling down at her with love.

"Let's get a few family shots," Finley suggested.

By now, Jessica was stirring, so Finley worked fast. Sleeping babies made for better pictures than hungry babies who woke up fussy. Sure enough, after rolling off several shots, a few with Jessica's eyes open, the baby began to cry.

"I think I got everything I needed," she told the parents. "I'll put together several poses and packages and email them to you."

"Thank you so much, Finley," Sylvia said, still weepy. "Jessica is already changing so much. We've only been home from the hospital two weeks, and she's already gained a pound and has different expressions."

"That's why it's smart to capture what she looks like now." Finley smiled. "Congrats to you both. I know you'll be terrific parents."

It didn't take long for her to pull the best pictures of the baby. Newborn shoots were some of her favorites to work. She took a break, though, heating up some leftover spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. She went back to sorting photographs, keeping her eye on the clock because she needed to leave soon for Java Junction.

Finley loved the musical nights held there. Tonight would be a great one since Dax would be performing. He only did so about once a month, giving other singers and musicians in the area a chance to have time to shine.

She decided even though it was cold, she would walk the three blocks to the square. It wasn't windy, and she actually preferred cold weather over hot. Entering the coffeehouse, she saw it was already three-quarters full.

"Finley!"

Ivy was waving at her, seated at her usual table in the center of the room. As she drew near, Finley saw another couple seated with her. The man was handsome, with warm brown eyes and a mustache. The woman was gorgeous, wearing a purple, form-fitting sweater and lots of bangles on one arm.

They both rose as she arrived, Ivy saying, "This is my friend I told you about. Finley Farrow, meet Wolf and Ana Ramirez."

"I'm pleased to meet you," she said, offering both her hand. "I loved Renegade . And Capitol Crimes , too."

Wolf looked pleased. "Thank you for the compliment, Finley. Ivy says you're a teacher and photographer."

They sat and she said, "Yes, I juggle both."

"I've created my own production company and have a cinematographer I work with," Wolf said. "But I've always used the photographer of whichever studio I'm working with for stills. Maybe you could show me some of your work and I could see if your talents might be suited to the film industry."

"Finley has a gift," a voice said. "You'll love her unique perspective, Wolf."

She turned, gazing up at the tall man with the low, rumbling voice who stood next to her. He had dark hair and moss green eyes which drew her in. The wire-framed glasses he wore only emphasized their unusual color. He was lean but looked strong and looked vaguely familiar.

He also took her breath away.

Setting down the tray of drinks he carried, he pulled out the chair next to her and held out a hand. Finley took it, her heart racing.

"I'm Holden Scott," he said. "I've been wanting to meet you—because your photographs spoke to my soul."