Page 57 of Making New Plans

I leaned closer and whispered, “You look beautiful, Chloe. So beautiful there won’t be any room left in my mind for whatever torment your parents have planned.”

Red lips parting, her sweet breath warmed my lips. Her eyes blinked open, and her eyebrows crinkled as if she didn’t believe me. Or that she hadn’t heard me correctly.

But then, in a throaty voice, she said, “I love that color on you. It makes your eyes glow. And I love your eyes.”

And I loved nervous Chloe who babbled everything that came to mind. I smiled, tucking the thought away before she could ask for it.

A harsh buzzing erupted between us, and she groaned, stepping away from me. “That’s my ride-or-die alarm. We need to leave now if we’re going to be on time.”

Trying to shift back to business mode, I nodded. “Sure. Should I drive?”

“Yes, please. I left my car with Sarah this morning because she’s carting in some decorations for the Sugar Shack tonight.”

I nodded again and led her out to my car. After we climbed in, she directed me to a large, brick-facade mansion in a neighborhood east of the town square. I could’ve found the house without her pointing to it, however, since the main archway had HIGGINS in big brass letters nailed to it.

Clearly, her family planned on never leaving Tangled River. Or even this house. How long could you be mayor? And how much did it pay? Because even though the rest of the houses in the neighborhood were neat and tidy, the Higgins house was by far the biggest. But even I had to admit that it was beautiful. The whole red brick and white column thing had always looked very stately to me. Not necessarily my taste, but I could appreciate it. Like one could respect a robustly beautiful grandmother.

I gave Chloe a hand out of the car, more to hold her hand than anything. I thought she’d let go as we walked to the front door, but instead, she clenched my hand. Like she had at the concert. But I quickly shook off the memory.

Even though spring hadn’t taken root yet, the landscaping was trimmed back with a severe hand. A spicy-smelling pine wreath circled their brass knocker. Because, of course, they’d have a brass knocker.

Chloe’s hand had gotten clammy, but I held it secure in my own anyway. She drew in a deep breath and ignored the knocker, going for the doorbell instead. A bright, pleasant chime echoed in the house.

These people really were all about the appearances.

At the last second, Chloe whipped her hand out of mine with a muttered apology. I wanted to tell her it was fine, that she could hold any part of me she wanted, but then her mother opened the door. She looked like a sugarplum nightmare in a purple dress with gold buttons. The woman had a serious fetish for that color. No feathers tonight? Oh wait, feathered barrette in her hair. Superb.

“Chloe, Hunter, good evening. And you’re…” She glanced at her dainty wristwatch. “Right on time. Good. Come in.”

We obeyed, and she shut the door behind us. She waited with the same odd smile while we put our jackets and Chloe’s purse on the coat rack in the entryway. Then she turned and floated down the lushly carpeted hallway. All I could think as we followed her was that she would probably have an aneurysm if she could see the house I grew up in.

I noted that none of the black-and-white photographs that adorned the hallway featured Chloe—only old, stuffy people. Deceased relatives, maybe? Or previous mayors? Perhaps treasured murder victims who’d unwittingly stepped foot in this silent house?

Mrs. Higgins led us into a similarly decorated dining room dominated by a long wooden table shiny enough to reflect the crystal chandelier above it. Large vases bursting with flowers added further opulence as well as a heavy floral scent bordering on funereal.

Upon stepping into the dining room, Chloe stopped so abruptly, I almost crashed into her. She was staring at an unfamiliar man sitting at her father’s right hand.

“I didn’t know there would be other guests here,” she said, her voice brittle.

I reached out to place a comforting hand on the small of her back then thought better of it and tucked my hand deep in my pocket.

Mrs. Higgins seated herself on her husband’s left and aimed a preening smile at Chloe. “I said there would be guests.” She gestured to the man who looked to be about our age with a delicate trickle of sweat running from his receding hairline down his pale temple. “Chloe, Hunter, this is Samuel Wahlbeck, a friend of the family. Samuel, this is my daughter, Chloe, and a recently returned Tangled River resident, Hunter Erickson.”

Samuel stood as we walked over to the table and held out his hand to Chloe then me. His hand felt like a cold, dead fish, and I barely resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my pants after I let go of it.

Mrs. Higgins directed Chloe to the seat next to her, which left me sitting next to sweaty Samuel. I sincerely hoped he was wearing deodorant.

Mr. Higgins hadn’t cracked an expression the entire time, merely staring blandly off into the distance. A defense mechanism, I assumed. It didn’t take a genius to see that Mrs. Higgins was the puppet master around here.

At least the view was enchanting. I sent Chloe a small smile across the table, and she aimed an even smaller one back, her narrowed eyes darting to Samuel. I guessed we were thinking the same thing—that Samuel was here for a nefarious purpose. But I was quite at my leisure for the game to be revealed.

Mrs. Higgins waited for a maid to bring out the first course before throwing the first punch over our crisp Caesar salads.

“So, Hunter, how much longer are you in town for?”

I ground my teeth while pinching my lips into a smile. “About two more weeks. Unless something changes, of course.” I poured every ounce of my willpower into keeping my eyes away from Chloe.

Mrs. Higgins’s smug smile dropped like a dead fly. “Oh, what could change? Another strange stipulation, perhaps?”

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