Alix started to say it could be, but changed her mind. “I think my mother spent one month a year here with Aunt Addy, prying the whole Kingsley family history out of her. Then Mom spent the next eleven months writing the stories into best-sellers. That’s what I really think.”
Jared looked like he was about to answer that, but then he opened the truck door and got out.
Alix thought, He knows a great deal more about this than he’s telling.
“Come on,” Jared said. “We need to get the old truck.”
Alix had lots of questions for him but she had an idea that right now he wouldn’t answer them. “It couldn’t be older than your truck.”
He gave a little smile. “It’s even older than me.”
“A true antique,” Alix said as she hurried forward to walk beside him.
She’d thought he would laugh at her joke but instead he gave her a look that said he’d like to show her how old he was. Truthfully, his look was a bit intimidating, but she remembered what the woman in the liquor store said, that she wasn’t to let Jared bully her. Alix pulled herself up straighter and met his look with one that said “Bring it on. I can handle it.”
She had the great satisfaction of seeing him smile a bit before he turned his head away. She followed his long strides across the gravel to the garage.
When they got there, he lifted the lid to an alarm box and punched in numbers, and the door began to go up.
Alix was looking at the house. “He may be your friend, but you didn’t design this house.”
“I did one in Arizona for him.”
“The Harwood house?” Her breath caught in her throat.
“That’s it.”
“Oh,” Alix said, blinking up at him. “That’s one of my favorites. That house seems to rise out of the desert, to be part of it.”
“It should. I still have scars on my back from where I ran into a cactus. Damned things! Worse than being hit with a tuna rig.”
She followed him into the garage. “So you spent time there studying the land? How long did you stay? Did you have any trouble getting the owner to agree to that slanted roof? Usually the roofs there are flat, but yours—” She stopped because Jared was glaring at her.
“We are on the island,” he said.
“But we just spent days designing houses together and—” When he kept staring at her, Alix couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, you win. No more work. I’m supposed to think about Valentina and the ghost who keeps tossing things around my room—when he’s not kissing me, that is—and then there’s Izzy’s wedding that I’m to arrange. That I’m not a professional researcher and I?
??m certainly not a wedding planner doesn’t seem to make any difference to anyone.”
“Everybody has great confidence in you. What do you think of the truck? If you can quit complaining long enough to look at it, that is.”
He was right in that she hadn’t even glanced at it. It was old, with big round fenders, whitewall tires, and a large front grille. It was probably from the thirties and in pristine condition, with bright blue paint that was so shiny it looked wet. “Nice.” She ran her hand over a fender. “And you’re going to drive it in the parade?” She wanted to ask who would be riding with him.
“Yes, I’m going to drive,” he said as he looked at her through the truck windows. “Toby and Lexie will help you with the wedding plans. And I can help you with Granddad’s papers. If you want to work on them, that is. Aunt Addy’s will says that you don’t have to.”
She couldn’t help the little charge that went through her at the thought of continuing to work together. An idea hit her. “I know that what happened to Captain Caleb and Valentina was a great tragedy, but it was a very long time ago. What difference does it make now?”
Jared looked away and seemed to be having trouble coming up with an answer.
“Is it the soap?” she asked.
“The soap?”
“If you could prove ownership of the recipe, would that mean you still own the company?” Her eyes widened. “Or do you still own Kingsley Soap?”
Jared smiled. “Aunt Addy’s brother, Five, sold the company, recipe and all, then he spent every penny of it.” He raised the hood of the truck and looked under it.
Alix stood beside him. The engine was as clean as the outside of the vehicle, but she wasn’t looking at it. Wasn’t one of her mother’s books about a likable scoundrel who wasted the family fortune? She brought her mind back to the present. “So why does anyone want to know what happened to Valentina?”