A Christmas to Die For. Marta Perry
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“Not that I remember.” He turned from a contemplation of the cobwebby ice box to focus on her. “You spoke of break-ins. Was anything stolen?”
“I don’t know. My grandmother might remember. Or Emma Zook, since they’re such close neighbors. She’s our housekeeper.”
“The Amish woman who was in the kitchen this morning? According to the lawyer who handled my grandfather’s will, the Zooks leased some of the farmland from his estate. I need to get that straightened out before I put the place on the market. I should talk to them. And to your grandmother.”
Something about his intent look made her uneasy. “I doubt that she knows anything about their leases.”
“According to my mother, Fredrick Unger offered to buy the property. That would make me think your family had an interest.”
There was something—an edgy, almost antagonistic tone to his voice, that set her back up instantly. What was he driving at?
“I’m sure my grandfather’s only interest would have been to keep a valuable farm from falling to pieces. Since he died nearly five years ago, I don’t imagine you’ll ever know.”
“Your grandmother—”
“My grandmother was never involved in his business interests.” And she wasn’t going to allow him to badger her with questions. “I can’t see that it matters, since your mother obviously didn’t want to sell. Maybe what you need to do is talk to the attorney.”
Her own tone was as sharp as his had been. She wasn’t sure where the sudden tension had come from, but it was there between them. She could feel it, fierce and insistent.
Tyler’s frown darkened, but before he could speak, there was a noisy creak from the living room.
“Hello? Anybody here?”
“Be right there,” she called. She’d never been quite so pleased to hear Phillip Longstreet’s voice. She didn’t know where Tyler had been going with his questions and his attitude, and she didn’t think she wanted to.
Tyler didn’t miss the relief on Rachel’s face at the interruption. The speed with which she went into the living room was another giveaway. She might not know what drove him, but she’d picked up on something.
Or else he’d been careless, pushing too hard in his drive to get this situation resolved.
He followed her and found her greeting the newcomer with some surprise. “Phillip. What are you doing here?”
The man raised his eyebrows as she evaded his attempt to hug her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He held out his hand to Tyler. “Phillip Longstreet. You may have noticed Longstreet Antiques on Main Street in the village.”
He was in his late forties or early fifties at a guess, but he wore his age well—fit-looking, with fair hair that showed signs of gray at the temples and shrewd hazel eyes behind the latest style in glasses.
“This is Tyler Dunn.” She glanced at him, and he thought he read a warning in her eyes.
“Nice to meet you. Were you looking for Ms. Hampton?”
“It’s always pleasant to see Rachel, but no, I wanted to meet the new owner.” Longstreet shrugged, smiling. “I like to get in before the other dealers when I can.”
“How did you know?” Rachel sounded exasperated. “If we had a party line, Phillip, I’d suspect you of eavesdropping.”
“I have to be far more creative than that to stay ahead of the competition. If you want to keep secrets, don’t come to a village. Emma’s son, Levi, delivered the news along with my eggs this morning.”
It was an insight into how this place worked. “Are you interested in the contents of the house, Mr. Longstreet?”
A local dealer might be the best choice before putting the house on the market, but Longstreet was obviously trolling for antiques, probably hoping to get an offer in on anything of value before his competition did. Or possibly before Tyler realized what he had.
“Phil, please. I’d like to look around.” Longstreet’s gaze was already scoping out the few pieces left in the living room. “Sometimes there are attractive pieces in these old farmhouses, although more often it’s a waste of time.”
“I’m afraid your time was definitely wasted this afternoon.” He gestured toward the door. “I’m not ready to make a decision about selling anything yet.”
“If I could just take a look around, I might be able to give you an idea of values.” Longstreet craned his neck toward the dining room.
Tyler swung the door open and stepped out onto the porch, so that the man had no choice but to follow. “I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to make a decision. Thank you for stopping by.”
“Yes, well, thanks for your time.” Longstreet stepped gingerly over the broken step. “Rachel, I’ll see you at the meeting tonight.”
Rachel, coming out behind him, bent to snap a leash onto the dog’s collar. “Fine.”
Tyler waited until Longstreet had backed out of the driveway to turn to her. “Is that one of the reputable dealers your grandmother might recommend?”
“Grams probably would suggest him. His uncle was an old crony of my grandfather.”
“But…?”
Her nose crinkled. “Phil’s nice enough, in his way. It’s just that every time he comes to the inn, I get the feeling he’s putting a price on the furniture.”
“I’m not bad at showing people the door, if you’d like some help.”
“I run an inn, remember?” She smiled, her earlier antagonism apparently gone. “The idea is to get people in, not send them away. Are you a bouncer in your real life?”
“Architect. Showing people the way out is just a sideline.”
She looked interested. “Do you work on your own?”
He shook his head. “I’m with a partner in Baltimore, primarily designing churches and public buildings. Luckily I’m between projects right now, so I can take some time off to deal with this.” Which brought him back to the problem at hand. “Well, if your grandmother recommends Longstreet, I’ll still be sure to get offers from more than one dealer.”
“That should keep him in line. He’s probably easier to cope with when he wants to buy something from you. I’m on the Christmas in Churchville committee with him, and he can be a real pain there.”
He pulled the door shut and turned the key in the lock.
“Are you sure you’re finished? You didn’t look around upstairs.”