we’re still waiting.”
The greeting made him laugh. “Hello, Mom.”
“Did you find our future daughter-in-law today?”
He indulged her. “Should I have?”
“We’d hoped,” she said with a lightness that assured him this was as much a game as a serious discussion.
“Yeah, I know.”
“You say that, but I don’t think you take your father and me seriously.” Her voice carried humor. “You need to get married. We’re waiting for our grandchild.”
Here it comes, Colby mused. Once a week, his mother gave her we-won’t-live-forever lecture.
“We need an heir, Colby.”
It was useless to tell her not to plan a wedding. While she had high hopes, he’d given them up. There was no perfect woman for him. Diana Lynscot had ended his belief in the forever-after daydream, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to bother looking for another woman.
“Colby, are you listening?”
“To every word, Mom.”
Some of the humor left her voice. “What about our other problem? Did you see Tessa today?”
“I talked to her. She’s not interested.”
Disappointment filled her voice. “Oh.”
“Have you ever been in that shop?”
“Of course.”
“It’s unusual,” he said. The store hadn’t been what he’d expected. He’d been envisioning black walls, witches’ spells and vampire lore. Instead he’d seen unicorns and charms for good luck.
“That’s what makes it so interesting,” she said without hesitation. She had such a great capacity for accepting people and anything new.
“She’s unusual,” he said.
“I think she’s lovely. Don’t you?”
A mild description. Tessa Madison was something else. Cool on the surface. Smiling even when provoked. Controlled. He admired that. He’d followed her movement around the store. He liked the way she moved. It was that simple. “Mom, we’ll get answers.”
“I want people to understand what a wonderful person Harriet was. There’s been so much gossip.”
And that hurt her, Colby knew.
“Harriet wasn’t difficult or peevish. She was a strong-minded, independent woman. A woman with many fine qualities. She wasn’t always easy to understand. But she was special and caring around your father and me. You need to let Tessa help,” she said more firmly.
“There are other ways.”
“Colby, don’t be difficult.”
He wasn’t the one being difficult. “I asked her, Mom. She’s really not interested.”
“Sweetheart, please try again. I know she can help. You will, won’t you?”
He thought he’d be wasting time, but offered her another assurance before saying goodbye. When his aunt had died, he’d felt useless. Well, this wasn’t about him. It was about his mother, about her love, her memories of her sister.
He withdrew a business card he’d plucked up at Mystic Treasures and dialed the phone number. “Tessa Madison,” he requested of Marla, Tessa’s employee.
“Tessa isn’t here.”
“This is Colby Holmes.”
An excited edge crept into her voice. “She’s not here. She went to the antiques sale.”
“Thanks.” Colby set down the receiver. He needed to get this problem handled—now. He cursed the situation. The last thing he wanted to do was walk around the town square and look for the Gypsy lady.
Chapter Two
It was so blessed hot even at dusk. Colby scanned the sea of faces as people browsed from table to table, looking at clocks and crystal and antique jewelry. He stopped beside a table displaying Civil War guns. How hard could it be to find someone who looked like her? She was hardly ordinary with all that black hair and that trim little body.
“A good showing, huh, Colby?”
Colby let Tessa’s image drift away and forced himself to face the ex-mayor, a fiftyish, barrel-chested man with a receding hairline and a reputation as a ladies’ man since his divorce five years ago.
“It was a good idea to have this at night instead of the day. Don’t you think?”
Colby knew he was looking for a pat on the back. “I heard you suggested that to Pierce,” he said, referring to the town’s present mayor. “Real smart idea, Henry.”
Henry nodded thanks, then gestured in the direction of the tall, ruddy-faced man whose dark blond hair was threaded with gray. “Stay away from the sheriff,” he said about Dave Reingard. “He’s sure been in a foul mood for days.”
“It’s the heat,” Colby said. “Everyone’s grumpy.” But who could blame Dave? Colby mused. He had a murder to solve and a lot of pressure to do it quickly. Colby noticed that the deputy sheriff, Holt Tanner, stood near Dave. Colby doubted either man had an eye for the old furniture. They’d shown up at the antiques fair because people were tense, needed to see law enforcement was nearby.
“We need to find the killer,” he heard one woman say to her husband.
“We could all be killed in our beds,” an elderly man commented to a friend.
Concern had increased that a killer was lurking. Colby figured nothing would alleviate that worry except the sheriff announcing he’d arrested someone. Warren Parrish ranked at the top of Colby’s suspect list. Visually he followed the middle-aged man’s path as he meandered from one table to the next as if no worries existed in his life. Thin, tall, with gray hair, he puffed on a cigar, and despite the heat wore his trademark light-colored suit.
It took effort not to slug him. Since Parrish had arrived in town and announced that he was Harriet’s estranged husband, he hadn’t shown a second of genuine grief.
“Your mood is dark.”
Colby turned slowly, preparing himself to see Tessa Madison’s gray eyes. How could he have missed her? he thought. She wore a white dress with small pink-and-green flowers. Sleeveless, it brushed her ankles and scooped to a V above the shadow of her breasts, just enough to tempt his imagination. On her feet were white sandals with half a dozen straps. He eyed her pink toenails and the thin ring, a silver band, on one toe. “My mood’s okay.”
“Purple aura,” she teased.
He found himself grinning. “Not green anymore?”
“Oh,
