Page 10 of A Christmas Mystery

When they all stare up at me, I ask, “Does anyone still have their yearbooks from high school?”

They look at me blankly, evidently taken by surprise by the abrupt question.

“I do,” Theo says. “Did you want to borrow them?”

Of course it would be him. I try to keep a pleasant expression as I turn my eyes to him. “I would if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” He stands up, reaching down to grab his old leather laptop bag from the floor.

“Oh, you don’t have to get them now! I can grab them some other—”

“I was done here. I can grab ’em for you now.” His coffee cup is indeed empty, and he’s already standing up. “See y’all later.”

The others appear amused—either by my sudden request or Theo’s abrupt departure. I smile and wave at them as I steel my spirit to have a polite conversation with this man.

“I’m just a couple blocks away from here,” he says as we leave the coffee shop. “I can go get them if you want to wait here.”

“I can walk with you,” I say with a perfectly civil smile. “That way you won’t have to come all the way back.”

He nods and starts down the sidewalk. He’s not smiling or looking at me or attempting to make conversation as we walk. I fall into step with him, having to take longer strides than normal to keep up.

After a few minutes, I’m annoyed. He could slow down or say something or crack a smile or something.

Yes, he’s doing me a favor, but still.

“What do you need the yearbooks for?” he asks without segue when we turn onto a street off the downtown blocks that has newish town houses and apartments.

“I’m just looking for someone.”

“Who?”

I don’t answer. Not only because he’s so presumptuous in demanding I tell him but also because I’m kind of self-conscious about admitting I have a secret pen pal.

What if he misinterprets my interest and thinks I’m betraying Chris?

He turns his head to peer at me sharply.

I keep my expression blank.

“You were on the chess team in high school, weren’t you?”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“Do you remember someone in it who likedCount of Monte Cristo?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“You heard me, I think.”

“Why would—”

“It’s just a question.”

He’s still frowning, but thoughtfully now. Like he’s searching his memory. “No one comes to mind.”

“Okay.”

“You’re looking for someone on the chess team?”

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