Page 80 of Pepper, the Biker & the Vanishing Body

Amy chuckled. “You do, when you want to.”

“Tell me what can help conquer Winifred.”

“Not what, who.”

There wasn’ta woman or a man who didn’t glance at Ian and Beau as we made our way through the crowd of people waiting for the Waters’ preview to open, though it was more so Ian who caught the eye. He walked and held himself as I could only imagine a noble would. I wondered if they taught noble bearing at prestige schools or if it automatically came with the title. Ian, Beau as well, wore suits and ties that had to have been tailored made for them since they showcased their fit bodies.

I was grateful Amy convinced me to take extra care with my appearance and wear a dress. She went through my closet and chose a sage green dress that hugged my waist and flowed around my hips. I don’t believe I ever wore it, and it was probably Amy who forced me to buy it. I was surprised how good it looked on me. Amy made me look even better with a touch of gold earrings, light purple heels, and a short-waisted, deeper purple jacket. I didn’t care much about impressing others, but I admit, I liked the way Ian’s eyes widened with surprise and pleasure when he caught sight of me.

The preview didn’t open for another thirty minutes but Ian didn’t wait. He guided me through the crowd with his hand to the small of my back. That sounded like a passage from a romance novel. It’s all Amy’s fault that I have myself living scenes in romance novels. Okay, so I admit his faint touch did tingle my insides a bit. I shook my head at my foolish thoughts.

“Something wrong, Pep?” Ian asked.

“I’m no heroine,” I said.

He smiled and winked at me. “In my eyes you are the strongest of heroines.”

“You are such a romantic.”

“You make it easy.”

I chuckled. “I doubt that very much.”

We reached the steps where a large man stood guard, stopping anyone from going past him.

“Good morning,” Ian said with a firm expression at the man. “We represent the Willow Lake Historical Society and we’re here to retrieve documents that Mr. Waters absconded with from the historical society. We have documentation to prove who we are as Ms. Dickens requested.”

“One moment,” he said and another man standing by the door switched places with him while he entered the house.

It was a far larger house than I expected to see since Waters lived alone having divorced his wife over twenty years ago. She returned home to her native England and remarried. They had no children and Waters remained single, insisting he preferred it that way, at least that was what Edna had shared with Amy. Though from what Amy found, she believed Waters was a self-centered man who cared only for himself and his hobbies, collecting and treasure hunting.

The man who had been standing guard reappeared and gave a nod to the fellow at the bottom of the stairs. He moved aside and Ian and I proceeded up the stairs, Amy and Beau following behind us and the man hurrying to block people from following.

Winifred Dickens was nothing like I imagined her. Though short and thin, she wore a pantsuit that shouted all business with a stark white blouse beneath buttoned all the way to the neck where a broach sat clasped. Her raging red, untamable curly hair appeared in sharp contrast to her business attire, and she wore what looked like a perpetual frown which probably was the reason for the wrinkles on her face.

That frown suddenly changed when she caught sight of Ian. She could not hide her shock, and her cheeks flamed red almost matching her hair color.

“You’re Ian Macgregor,” she said, her hand going to rest at her chest.

“Guilty,” Ian said with a smile and reached his hand out to her.

I was relieved when she took it and held it tightly since the woman looked like she might collapse.

“I have all the books where you’re on the cover.” A sudden smile lit her face. “Would you consider signing a couple and perhaps I could get a picture or two with you? The women in my book group are not going to believe I met you.”

“I would be only too glad to sign your books and to take pictures with you. We could see to that while my friends from the Willow Lake Historical Society review the documents in question. We have the papers showing?—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Winifred said, waving away any concern. “I trust you.”

Amy took out an envelope from her large purse and held it out to Winifred. “Our documentation for your records.” She smiled. “And I have all the books Ian’s on the covers of as well.”

Winifred released Ian’s hand and took the envelope. “You’re a romance aficionado?”

“Amy is the queen of romance aficionados,” I said proudly.

“We must talk,” Winifred said eagerly, then sighed. “Though I fear there will be no time for that today. You must leave me your number. I love meeting and talking with fellow romance enthusiasts.”

While Amy and Winifred saw to adding each other’s numbers to their phones, Ian leaned down and whispered, “Romance does bring people together.”

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