Page 43 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

He shook his head, a thoughtful expression covering his face. “Nope. The memory’s not what it used to be.”

“Ha!” I said. “You act like you’re eighty-three instead of fifty-three. But I was hoping I could count on more than just your memories. Is there any way you kept any old church directories?”

He grimaced. “Cathy hated me keepin’ those things. Called me a pack rat and insisted I throw them out.”

“That’s okay. I figured it was a long shot,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Who said I actually threw them out?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You have them?”

“Back to when I was a kid. My dad saved them too. Said you never knew when you might need someone’s address.”

I was thrilled. The older ones would likely do more good than when Luke and his brother were kids.

“I’ll dig them out tonight and you can pick them up tomorrow,” he said.

I crinkled my nose. “I was kind of hoping I could see them now.”

His eyes narrowed as he lifted his gaze to mine. “What’s the hurry?”

“I’m kind of working on something,” I said with a shrug.

“A detective case?” he asked in surprise, then frowned. “I know Luke doesn’t make much, so you’ll have to work until the babies are born, but you could at least find something more befittin’ a lady.”

I snorted. “Well, this job just might be the nest egg that provides the down payment on a house big enough for those possible future babies, so don’t you go begrudging it. Otherwise, we might hold off on having babies until we have room for them.”

He looked torn. He was eager for us to have grandchildren, especially since Luke’s brother wasn’t even dating anyone.

I gave him a bright smile, and he laughed.

“You fight dirty, Summer Baumgardner.”

It felt good having someone call me by the name I’d been born with and not one my mother had fabricated for my career.

“And don’t you forget it,” I said. “If you just tell me where those directories are, I can go pull them myself.”

Shaking his head, he got to his feet. “I’ve got so much stuff, you’ll never find it.” He picked up a rag and wiped some of the grease off his hand. “I used to keep it all in the attic, but I’ve moved it out to the shed.”

We walked around the house to the backyard, toward the rectangular wooden shed. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock, then swung the door open, revealing shelves on both sides covered in filing boxes.

My mouth dropped open. “What is all this stuff?”

He shrugged as he walked inside and turned on a battery-operated light. “Odds and ends I’ve collected over the years.”

I followed him inside, reading the sides of the boxes.

Sweet Briar Newspapers from 1983 to 1999 (big headlines)

Sweet Briar City Council Minutes 2000-2012

Sweet Briar Photos 1995 to 2005

Sweet Briar Photos 2006 to 2016

I turned to him in surprise. “Chip, you’re a historian.”

His face scrunched up as he reached for a box. “What? Nah. Never been to college.”

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