Page 43 of Building What's Meant to Be

“Yep, she moved down from North Carolina not long ago. She and Cassian had what she affectionately calls a ‘Meet Ugly.’ She crashed into his car, became his housekeeper, got him to dust off his heart...and the rest is a prince and princess happily ever after story. Literally. They live in a castle a few miles away.”

“There’s a castle in Butterbury?”

“Sure is. His grandparents built it. If you haven’t noticed, this town is a special place.”

“Seems like you and your family are close. Your friends too.”

We’re close enough except they don’t know what I really do for a living. “We went through a little rough patch after we moved here from New Hampshire. The grandparents needed some help. It was Mae’s senior year. I’m about ten years older and was happy to help, but I was ready to be out on my own. Had to quit college. That’s what we do for family. Embarrassingly, I resented it for a time. Came to my senses though.”

“Seems like even without schooling, you did okay for yourself.” She eyes the Maybach.

“Yeah. I do alright. Everyone has setbacks and can either figure out a way forward or...not.” The Maybach was part of a prank on a previous case. Liked it so much that I decided to keep it.

Tinsley nods like she’s thinking about the way forward part. I have a feeling the chauffeured life doesn’t quite fit anymore.

“What about your family?” I ask because I’m curious to hear her talk as well as wonder if there’s some connection to Governor Pickering and the case.

“My brother recently reminded me that my father grew up poor. The story goes that at nine, he talked a neighborhood kid into letting him take over his paper route and drove a hard bargain to keep seventy percent of the earnings.”

“Enterprising, entrepreneurial.”

Tinsley nods. “But then when things started looking up, he was sent to an orphanage. There, he made lemonade out of lemons, or more accurately, he organized the other kids to make ornaments out of felt and sold them on the corner. He took on every job he could, eventually putting himself through law school.”

I tap the air, realizing where I’ve heard the last nameHumber. He’s a leading corporate lawyer and word has it he invests well, possibly with thanks to insider trading, but that’s not my case. At least not this time.

Tinsley tells me she recently learned he and her mother met when she was working as a maid at a motel down in Texas.

“Kind of like Bess and Cassian.”

“Though I’m not sure they have a happily ever after. Granted. Mother and Father are still married, but it’s like their lives are a game of chess. Meanwhile, I was living mine like it was Candyland.” Tinsley looks at me like she’s wondering if there’s a middle ground.

“Life doesn’t have to be a game,” I say as if mine isn’t.

“No? But isn’t it a stage?” she asks, referencing Shakespeare.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I say as much to her as to myself. I’m not an actor in the classical sense, but I do play a role. At least for now. But the longer this day gets, the more the lines feel like they blur. I can only let myself flirt until I wrap up this case.

“We should probably clean up. You must be exhausted.”

“I think I’ve bypassed exhaustion and stepped into the Twilight Zone.”

We both get up at the same time and our knees bump. The internal rumble just won’t quit. Not when I’m near her. Warning signals are loud in my mind, especially since I told myself I can only wade into the water with Tinsley. No further. Nothing more. Nonetheless, my gaze drops to her lips and then lifts to her eyes before they shift back again.

I struggle to return to the thread of our conversation. My breath is ragged when I say, “The Twilight Zone? No, Tinsley, this is real.”

“I’m afraid so,” she says nearly as breathless.

As if both sensing where this is going, we shift apart and then start to clean up. However, being elbow to elbow in thekitchenette doesn’t help matters. I go to the car to get her bag and when I return, I find her on her phone. The smile she wore for most of the evening slowly slips off her face.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She tucks her phone into her lap. “Yeah. Totally. Just—” She looks around. “This is just different.”

“Yeah. The night noises take some getting used to. You’ve traded police sirens and honking cars for crickets and frogs. But how about we trade numbers? If you need anything, I’m a phone call away.” I already have hers, but keep that to myself.

After we swap, Tinsley takes a deep breath. I leave her in the doorway of the trailer before getting on the four-wheeler and starting it up.

“The keys are in the car,” I holler, hoping I find her and it here in the morning.

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