Page 46 of Seaside Cowboy's Marriage of Convenience

“Sorry, I deleted the video. I didn’t think it was going to be important.” The hostess sighed, her gaze apologetic.

“Totally understandable. But is it possible it was backed up on a cloud somewhere?”

Mme. Lavigne’s grip around her cardigan tightened. “No, I didn’t back it up. Like I said, I didn’t think it was important.”

Rachel leaned forward. “If you took the video with your phone, would you mind if we looked at it? I wouldn’t go into personal files, I promise.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see the point. Besides, I wouldn’t like strangers searching through my phone. Would you?”

“No, I guess I wouldn’t.” Kennedy softened her voice and deflected, sensing tension. She needed to proceed with caution. “What prompted you to create the video? Are you a fan of the festival?”

“When my niece and her children were visiting from France, I took them to the festival.”

Austin perked up. “Could your niece have a copy of the video?”

“No.” The answer came fast. Too fast?

Either way, even if the niece had a copy, she’d probably deleted it, as well. But it wouldn’t hurt to double-check. Kennedy shifted forward, opening her hands in supplication. “May I have a contact phone number for your niece, please?”

The woman’s pale lips pursed. “I don’t see why. I doubt she can help you, anyway.” She dipped her head and picked at a loose thread on her cardigan.

Many years ago, Uncle had taught Kennedy that, while people learned to control their facial expressions, they sometimes forgot about their hand gestures. Those could give them away. Based on Mme. Lavigne’s hands, she was nervous. Why? Just because strangers were in her house?

Well, they could get the contact info some other way. “It was nice of you to invite your niece and her children.”

Mme. Lavigne’s twitchy fingers stilled when Kennedy didn’t push the issue. “It’s not a big deal. Her boys are a riot, but I enjoy spending time with the family.”

“Do you visit them often?” Austin gave her his signature grin that could melt hearts without him noticing it. “I grew up with a bunch of brothers. We were a riot, as well.”

Mme. Lavigne turned to him. “I do. There’s also a restaurant in the town near theirs where I like to go for lunch.”

Austin blinked. “You drive to France for lunch?”

“It’s only an hour and fifteen minutes away. Sometimes for breakfast.” Mme. Lavigne shrugged her bony shoulders. “They have nice croissants.”

Kennedy hid a smile. Back in their country, they could drive for hours—even a day—and still be in the same state. Here, one could be in a different country in slightly over an hour. Maybe less in some places?

It would be great to travel through Europe with Austin and take their time without any special agenda. Browse museums with timeless treasures, admire ancient architecture, visit splendid gardens where people in love had met many centuries before them, leave a coin in a fountain so they’d come back... And yes, eat delicious croissants in a cozy French café, breathe in coffee aroma and fragrant flowers, and intertwine their hands.

A real honeymoon. A real love.

Longing stirred her, but that longing was only an hour drive from desperation. The more she wanted something, the more the chances were she’d lose it. When she’d acquired new properties, her uncle had taught her that the important thing was being able to walk away. And she already couldn’t imagine walking away from Austin.

But she wasn’t here to dream of the things she couldn’t have. And she’d already lost someone irreplaceable. So she turned her phone to Mme. Lavigne to display the drawings with Zoey’s portrait. “Does this woman look familiar to you?”

Recognition flashed in the lady’s eyes, but she shook her head. “No. Never seen her before.”

Kennedy exchanged glances with Austin. He’d noticed it, too. Kennedy infused her voice with warmth she stopped feeling. “Once again, thank you so much for agreeing to talk to us.” She placed her business card on the antique table. “Please call me if you remember anything else. Or if you see this woman.”

“Of course.” Mme. Lavigne got up, relief slackening the wrinkles on her weathered face. Their time was up.

As they walked away from the cottage, Rachel said, “Someone told her to delete the video. Then to call her niece and tell her to do the same.”

“Yup. And that gives me hope we’re on the right track.” Kennedy paused and slowed her pace. “Or am I chasing a mirage?”

“Whatever it is, we need answers.” Austin wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Her insides warmed, and she leaned into him while they strolled the cobblestone street. She liked the sound of “we,” the feeling of proximity, and the supportive gesture.

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