at Bay House?” he finally said.
“That’s right.”
“I’m Terry Lindstrom.” Not boasting, but smug.
She wanted to say, “So?” Not a good idea. “Claire Levander.”
“Staying long?”
“About a week.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement behind the screen door. Wild Rose was watching.
Lindstrom slouched, both he and the gleaming auto looking out of place outside the Buck Stop. “If you want to escape the Whitakers to have a good time, give me a call.”
Hmph. Claire started her car. “Thank you, but I’m looking forward to staying in with the Whitakers. I hear they’re big on Scrabble.” She drove away with her head high, hoping that would be the last of Terry Lindstrom. Wild Rose was probably quite capable of dealing with his sullen attitude, although it was hard to imagine why the man would be slumming at the dilapidated store.
Claire cruised slowly along the road. There was no reason she couldn’t find her purse—or Noah—on her own. It couldn’t be that difficult. If she had to, she’d prowl through the underbrush until she found the path into the woods.
Minutes later, that’s what she’d come to. Either the trees had grown leafier since last night or she was hopelessly unobservant, but she wasn’t able to distinguish the right location until she’d parked and walked along the roadside. Eventually she discovered the log she’d run into, spotting the fresh yellow gash in the trunk through a gap of broken branches. From there, she was able to retrace her steps—more like a panicked zigzag if she remembered correctly—until she stumbled onto the overgrown trail.
Still no purse. She waded through the grass, looking for it, then stopped, setting her hands on her hips as she squinted into the woods. What now? If Noah had picked up the purse, he obviously hadn’t brought it to Wild Rose’s store. And she wasn’t sure, but hadn’t he made a comment about not owning a car? Or was that her assumption, because of his remote living quarters and simple lifestyle? She wasn’t accustomed to men who took nighttime strolls through the forest with a bear cub at their heels. It didn’t fit that such an anachronism would own a car.
What would it hurt to take a short walk into the woods, as long as she stuck to the trail, such as it was? Possibly she’d been getting her leg pulled, and Noah’s house was just beyond the trees, fully furnished, with all conveniences and a four-wheel-drive SUV parked in the garage.
Claire started off. She relaxed by degrees, slowing her stride to enjoy the twitter of birds in the sun-flecked trees. It was so pleasant, in fact, she walked farther than she’d intended, not ready to stop.
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