Whispers at Willow Lake by Mary Manners Page A

asked as she removed the lids from the remaining chafing dishes. Ryder’s gut rumbled at the scrumptious aroma and he fell into line behind Stuart, who continued to pile his plate high with sausage links and toast. “Anything I can help you with?”
    “Stuart was hoping to fish for a while this morning before we go into town to shop a bit.”
    “Do you know a place where we might rent some tackle?” Mr. Lawson asked, not bothering to wait until he got to the dining table before he shoveled the first forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I meant to pack mine, but the wife here moved it all back into the garage before I could load it into the car.”
    “I was not going to drive five hours with the line dangling over my shoulder, honey,” Mrs. Lawson interjected before sinking her teeth into a slice of jelly-slathered toast.
    “It’s no problem.” Ali settled at the table with a cup of coffee as Ryder slipped into a chair beside her, his mouth watering at the full plate before him. “I have some rods and equipment in the boathouse. You’re welcome to use whatever you’d like.”
    “Wonderful. Perfect.” Encouraged, Mr. Lawson added another scoop of eggs to his plate. “We’ll make a day of it.”
    “Half a day.” Mrs. Lawson frowned around her toast. “Remember our compromise, dear.”
    “I’ll run down and get some equipment for you as soon as I’m finished eating,” Ryder offered. He remembered exactly where the fishing gear was stored. “There’s a nice, quiet inlet just a hundred yards downstream, still on Willow Inn property, so you won’t need a license.” He and Ali had spent enough summer days lounging beneath the whispering willows there. He’d taught her how to bait a hook and laughed as she squealed while reeling in her first catch. “I’m happy to show you where, if you’d like.”
    “Sounds perfect.” Mrs. Lawson slapped peach jam on a second slice of honey-wheat as she glanced at Ali. “And, if you have a map of downtown, dear, I’ll plan my shopping trip. Someone told me there’s a bookstore?”
    “That’s right…Posts and Pages. It’s on Magnolia Street, near the center of town.” Ali reached into the pocket of her dress. “Here’s a business card. My friend, Josie Parker, owns it. Tell her I sent you and she’ll offer a generous discount.”
    “Lovely.” Mrs. Lawson took the card. “Thank you, dear.”
     
    ****
     
    Ali tidied the kitchen, glancing down the drive from time to time to watch for Ryder’s truck. He’d left two hours ago—first to gather fishing gear for the Lawsons and then for a trip to town. She wondered what he would bring back.
    The man was full of surprises.
    A rumble up the drive claimed her attention. She peered out the window overlooking the sink to see Sergeant Larder pulling up the drive. Ali wondered about the fact that she already thought of him that way—as a sergeant instead of the man she’d dated with some regularity. A motorcycle gleamed from the back of his truck. Ali assumed it belonged to Ryder. She rushed outside.
    “Good morning, Alison.” John dipped his hat as he climbed from the driver’s seat. “Fine day, isn’t it?”
    “A perfect day.”
    “Saw a couple fishing up at the inlet. Do they have a license?”
    “They don’t need one, John. That’s still my property.”
    “Your property?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You have no intention of selling this place, do you?”
    “No. I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t change it. I told you I love it here.”
    “I don’t see why.” He reached into his pocket, tamped a cigarette from the pack he’d stashed there. “You’re mired in some bad memories here.”
    “Good ones, too.” Ali stepped back as he lit the cigarette and the breeze blew smoke in her direction. She suddenly realized that smoking was just one of his many habits that annoyed her. “More good than bad.”
    “If you say so.” He took a step toward her, the cigarette dangling from his mouth.